Aspen didn’t fill me with platitudes without meaning or give me unrealistic hope my mom’s cancer would magically disappear. She shared and cried with me. It was what I needed at the time. If our friendship wasn’t cemented before, it was then.
After my cell phone died and I lacked the strength or concern to give a shit about finding a charger, she called on the house phone to talk to me every three days like clockwork. She always asked about my mom, but for the most part our conversations were light without talk of Trey or other heavy subjects. I haven’t asked how she found my parent's unlisted home number, and frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.
“Of course we’d both come. Amanda would be here too, but we couldn’t both get time off work on such short notice.”
My head scans the room. “Did Finn come with you?”
Aspen pats my knee. “No, all the guys stayed in San Francisco,” she answers my unasked question about Trey, “but Finn sends his sympathies.”
Before I stopped answering my phone Trey called a few times. Okay a dozen or so, but I couldn’t listen to any of the voicemails or text messages. I had bigger issues to deal with than one cheating fuckwad.
“Can we help you at all? How long until you have to be back to California?” Marissa asks.
My father’s left the room to greet people as they make their way into our house, so I don’t whisper the secret I’ve kept him from discovering. "I don’t have to go back. I was fired.”
Aspen gasps at my admission. “Why?”
I sigh and lean back into the couch more, “Technically, for the no show on the day I flew here. I left messages, but when I was finally able to talk to my office manager, he demanded I fly back to San Francisco to fill out the paperwork and then wait two weeks for approval,” I snort as I remember his words. “That wasn’t going to happen so I gave him a few choice words and hung up.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s possible I could’ve gotten a job back at the New York office, but my colorful language has probably ruined that."
Marissa stands from her place on the couch and paces for a moment in front of us. “Isn’t that illegal? We have rights in this country and you have a situation here.” Her arms fly up and span the living room area.
Losing my job is nothing compared to the loss of my mom, but I sniffle back some tears before they form. “I could sue I guess, maybe, but honestly I’m just too tired to care. I’ll fly back to San Francisco, pack up my apartment, and then come here for a while.” I don’t mention the mounds of debt I’m already facing or that I can't afford to get my stuff back to New York. I’ll have to tell my dad eventually and add even more stress on his already heavy shoulders.
Aspen jumps off the couch at my words and begins to pace next to Marissa. “You can’t leave the city. You belong in San Francisco.”
“Pen’s right.”
I refuse to admit leaving the city now feels a bit like defeat, but I don’t see another way. “Guys, I can’t pay the rent on my apartment." Again, not even going to mention the fact I’m now also two months behind on rent and they’ve already sent me a first notice of eviction.
Marissa stops and Aspen almost runs into her back. “You can live with me.” Her face lights up with the idea and she steps toward my place on the couch.
I throw my hands out in front of me. “No. I can’t do that.”
“Yeah. She can’t live with you, Marissa. You’re all the way out in Oakland. Your commute is one step above a daily march of death."
Marissa tilts her head at Aspen and purses her lips. “It’s true,” Aspen continues. “Amanda complains about her drive in every morning.”
Marissa sighs in defeat and Aspen keeps talking. “Plus, if you’re going to be job searching, you want to be in the city so you’re closer to companies there. Stay with me," Aspen sits on the couch beside me again, but there is a bounce in her posture this time. Her hands steeple together. “It’s perfect! I’m always with Finn anyway so you’ll have the place to yourself for the most part. The couch is a pull out. There are a few rules you’ll have to agree to, but it will work.”
Marissa scoffs. “Yeah a few rules,” but she doesn’t elaborate.
“Aspen.” I look for someone else in the living room to jump to my defense, but it’s just the three of us.
“At least give it a shot, Simone. Don’t give up yet. Let your friends help you.” Her words and puppy dog eyes are a plea I'm not sure I’ll be able to resist.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The neon green cup with the cat in the center sits on the edge of my kitchen counter. Right below it on the floor, my trash can waits. It will take one quick flick of my hand to send the cheap souvenir container over into the bin. Then it’s a simple tie job before I walk the bag to the trash and throw away a piece of Trey. I should do it.
I lean with my back against the opposite counter and stare at the cup with narrow eyes. My lips pucker as I visualize the cup falling off the edge with a small clink as it hits the glass container of spoiled mayo. Cleaning out my fridge was not a top priority before I jumped on a plane almost two months ago. All I need to do is reach across the space and tap the cup in. I can do it.
A sigh escapes my lips and I grab the cup and toss it on the top of my kitchen packing box. I’m weak. What am I going to do about it? Plus, the kitchen box wasn’t even close to full, so one more item won’t hurt it. Besides a few favorite mugs and the cat cup, everything else in the kitchen was included in the rent. Most of the furniture too. One of the perks of the place. It made my move in easy and now it will make my leaving easy as well. Like I was never even here.
“Simone,” Amanda’s soft voice floats to where I stand in the kitchen, “do you have more boxes?”
I walk to my bedroom where the short-haired blonde woman’s eyes flicker over the pile of shoes laid out on my bedroom floor. I sigh at the sight as well. It’s a day for sighing.
“I’d get rid of some, but I purged before I left New York.”
Amanda’s eyes fly back to the tower of shoes in the middle and she grimaces. “This is your post purged pile?”
I shrug when she looks back at me. “I like shoes.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she steps closer to the pile and sits down in front of it, “but I think we’re going to need more boxes. Maybe I should call Pen to bring some with her.”
“Maybe I should ship them home now.” I lean on the doorframe and try to decide which pairs I can stand to lose for a few months.
Amanda stands up. “Hey you promised us you’d give it at least a month before you go home. Plus, I hooked you up with the interview. You’re practically back on your feet already."
A small laugh escapes at her enthusiasm. No one knows how bad it is, and while I appreciate Amanda’s help at getting me a job, part time waitressing isn’t going to come close to what I was making before.
“It’s not so much I agreed to give it a month as Aspen didn’t give me a choice.”
We walk to the kitchen right as the buzzer breaks the quiet of the room. I push the button on the little keypad to allow them access after Marissa shouts through the speaker they’ve arrived with the cavalry. I’m a little nervous who she's included in the group. The last person I want to see today is Trey.
The apartment door opens and a stack of boxes is thrown into the open space. Marissa’s long brown hair is up in a ponytail high on her head. Amanda and I both laugh at the sight as she clears the doorway.
“Are you filming an eighties video later today, Mar?” Amanda asks with a hand over her mouth.
Marissa stops in the entryway blocking the others behind her. “What? This is the style now.”
She’s shoved forward and Aspen in jeans and a thick fleece jacket walks in behind her. “Yeah, the style for harlots.” She pulls on her friend's hair and walks past throwing a package of tape on top of the stack of boxes.
“Did you just call me a streetwalker?” Marissa asks with both hands on her hips.
> Not missing a beat, Aspen turns to her with her head cocked at an exaggerated side angle. “Yeah.”
Marissa turns her body to the open door. “Finn, your woman just called me a whore.”
Finn laughs as he enters the room and quickly puts his hands in the air in a “not going to touch that” gesture.
“Don’t be upset, Marissa,” Aspen sounds insincere. “It will make a good handle if you decide to take up BDSM.”
“Uh, no thanks. I mean some handcuffs okay, maybe, but I couldn’t do all the whips and chains.”
“Okay!” Finn barks from where he retreated in the living room. “Easy, ladies, Jake and I have virgin ears.”
The large driver I met before steps into my apartment and closes the door behind him. He stops and surveys the room before shaking his head. “I do not even want to know.” He’s dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt but is as imposing as when I last saw him in a suit.
“What boxes are done, Simone? Jake and I will load the car and we’ll take some to Aspen’s.” Finn’s not-so-subtle attempt to change the topic doesn’t fool anyone.
I point to the small stack of boxes in the living room. “I don’t have much. The place came furnished. So it’s clothes and personal knickknacks."
Jake walks to the stack and picks up two before he leaves out the door again. Finn watches him with a skeptical face. But after trying to stack two boxes on top of each other, he eventually gives up and carries one box with both hands.
Aspen pats him on the butt as he walks by and he stops to smile at her shrugging when she eyes his single box. “Don’t want to overdo it.”
“That’s right, baby. You don’t need to show off to the room of girls. You’re confident.” Aspen leans over and kisses him on the cheek.
Finn chuckles at her comment, but his face turns red for a moment before he walks out the door shaking his head.
*
“My God, woman, you have a ton of shoes.” Finn huffs as he places the heavy box on the Aspen’s bedroom floor. "I’m glad I still have the key to the penthouse so we could use the elevator.”
What is it with everyone and their need to comment on my shoes? “Yeah, sorry. I’ll have to get rid of some. I don’t want to take up Aspen's space.”
Finn leans over the box and rips the top open. “Are you kidding? This is great.” He picks up the box and dumps it on the floor. Shoes fall on top of each other and roll to the side. “Hurry throw some of Aspen’s clothes from the closet in here before she comes in.”
He hands me the box, but I don’t move. As he reaches to open another, he looks up to see me in my same position. His eyes widen and he jerks his head toward the small walk-in closet.
“I’m serious. Go. Put some shoes in there or clothes. Just throw it in.” He opens another box and dumps it on top of the shoes from the last.
“Um, Finn…” I trail off not sure what I want to ask him. He’s been so nice today, but this behavior is a little unexpected.
With another empty box, he walks into Aspen’s closet and begins to pull shirts off her plastic hangers dropping them unceremoniously into the box. “I’ve been trying to get Aspen to move more stuff to my house for months. This is the perfect opportunity and I am not going to miss out on it. Now, throw some shoes in there.”
He points to the pile of shoes at the back of Aspen’s closet, and this time I move to follow his orders while laughing. I have no idea what she’ll think of this, but I can’t refuse Finn when he’s so enthusiastic about it.
Once both boxes are full, Finn works to close the flaps again, his lips stretched to his ears. He’ll give himself away the minute Aspen walks in the door, but I can’t help but smile with him. His excitement is a bit infectious and I understand why Aspen fell so hard for his sweet playful personality.
Finn reaches down and picks up one of the boxes containing a good portion of Aspen’s closet before he turns back to me. “I want you to know, Simone, I’d offer to help you more than just moving some boxes, but I get the feeling you’d tell me no.”
I grab the box Finn left behind. “You’d be right, but thanks for the offer.” It might seem stupid to some, but if I’m going to do this, I need to conquer the city on my own.
He laughs. “That’s what I thought. You remind me of Aspen.” Finn starts toward the door but stops, looking back to me again. "Once Trey gets his head out of his ass, I’m going to enjoy watching you make him earn it.”
My eyes roll completely of their own volition. “I have no intentions of doing anything with Trey ever again.”
He responds with a loud chuckle as he walks out of the bedroom, but nothing else.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose both my pinkie toes after today. Regardless of how comfortable your shoes look, they all hurt after six hours on your feet. I'm not sure what’s worse — only having eight toes after I finish my first shift at Bonnie’s Café or the possibility I may have to buy a pair of those ugly lunch lady shoes.
I limp behind the black counter with my empty coffee pot in hand and start the task of making a fresh batch. In order to keep some weight off my aching feet, I switch from foot to foot to find a small amount of relief.
“You need more support in your arches,” Jamie, my trainer and coworker for this shift, tosses my way when he comes to stand beside me at the coffee pot.
Jamie throws the white towel he used to clean off the tables in the sink to our right and leans a hip on the counter, turning his body to face mine. His upper arm muscles bulge stretching his official black Bonnie’s polos shirt at the hem of the short sleeve. It takes me a minute to pry my eyes away. Muscles do that to a girl. When my eyes roam up to meet his deep blue ones, he smiles at my assessment of him.
I look to my feet. “Is it that obvious?”
He laughs for a moment before answering, “No, you’re doing a good job of hiding it. I just know the signs.”
My eyes slide to his own footwear and I smile at his hiking boots with the laces tucked into the top. They remind me of Trey’s and I wonder if it’s the normal shoe wear in a city where everywhere seems uphill.
“Hey, you can laugh, but they work.” he wiggles his foot in front of us. “Besides, I thought you had experience.”
My eyes float to the ceiling while I lie. “Yeah, in college, but it was a few years ago. I’ve forgotten how hard it can be.” Okay, technically it's not a lie. I did waitress in college. I pulled an entire four-hour shift at our local pizza joint before I threw down my apron and quit after I spilled a third tray of food on me. Here’s hoping this second attempt is a bit smoother.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it again.” Jamie pats me on the back as he turns and retreats to the kitchen.
While waitressing at Bonnie’s Café pays significantly less than my past job, more than eighty thousand less, I need the money. It turns out quitting a high paying job and leaving town for a few months negatively affects your credit score. Not only do I owe Aspen $500 a month for rent, which I’ll probably have to force her to take, but I also owe over $12,000 to my previous apartment.
The biggest secret I’ve kept while living the high life in New York? I did it pay check to pay check. The company paid for me to move to San Francisco, but I used the small amount of savings I had as a security deposit and first month’s rent. Now I owe them for October and November's rent, late fees, and early termination fees for breaking my lease. Basically, I’m screwed. And not in a good way.
The kitchen door swings open and Jamie exits carrying a tray with two sandwich platters. “Think you can handle getting these to table six?” He slides the tray on the counter between us.
“No problem.” I pick the two round white plates up in my smooth attempt to avoid using the big black tray and head out to the main floor.
Table six sits along the back wall away from the main area of the small diner. The couple is young, maybe late teens, and they lean in toward one another whispering together. It’s
four o’clock, almost quitting time, not that I’ve been counting down or anything, so I assume these two came here from school. The girl giggles at something her companion has said and I sigh at the cuteness. I miss young love.
The bell over the front door rings as someone new enters the diner.
“Go ahead and seat yourself and one of us will be right there.” Jamie’s voice booms between the four walls, but I don’t turn to look.
My replacement should be here any minute and hopefully they’ll be ready to take this table because my feet cannot handle one minute past four.
“If you two need anything else, just let me know.” I smile at the couple as I place their plates on the table. It’s a lie. If they need anything else, they best ask someone else. Like anyone else.
They don’t address me, which takes away some of their cuteness factor. What happened to manners? I turn back toward the kitchen repeating, “Twelve thousand dollars. Twelve thousand dollars,” to remind myself of why this job is my financial life saver.
I stop at the counter as Jamie closes the cake case and stands. “Ben and Lori aren’t here yet. Can you grab the new couple? They’re at table one by the window." Jamie points to the front window and I sigh.
“Sure.” I hope this doesn’t mean I have to stay until they’re done eating.
“Thanks.” He bends behind the counter again, but pushes back up quickly. “Hey, do you need a ride home? I’d hate to have you walk on those feet.”
I blush at his question and immediately look to the floor. Oh my God, it’s not high school. I shouldn’t react to this kind of shit. If only he wasn’t so young. There is no way Jamie’s over twenty-two. I have nothing against younger men, but I’d like to reach cougar status before I test the waters.
Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2) Page 11