by Lila Younger
Copyright
© 2016 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter 1 | Hailey
Chapter 2 | Hailey
Chapter 3 | Mark
Chapter 4 | Hailey
Chapter 5 | Hailey
Chapter 6 | Mark
Chapter 7 | Hailey
Chapter 8 | Mark
Chapter 9 | Hailey
Chapter 10 | Hailey
Epilogue | Hailey
Enjoy the first chapter of my book Boss of Me!
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About Lila Younger
Chapter 1
Hailey
The weekend everything changed for the rest of my life was ordinary. I don’t mean ordinary as in I don’t remember it at all, because I do, but ordinary in the sense that everything was predictable, and if you asked me what I’d be doing come Monday morning, I’d say “class probably”, because I didn’t expect anything else. In fact, I can’t even pinpoint the moment it happened, because I was away at my roommate Jen’s beach cottage for spring break. It wasn’t the Jersey Shore in case you were wondering. There was a lot less orange spray tan and a lot more flash cards, since we were all pre-med and there is never enough time to study. My other roommate Lexi still managed to find a guy on the weekend, but she trails men wherever she goes.
Anyway, the point is, when we are coming home Sunday night, all I am really thinking about is whether or not I have the energy to do a load of laundry before bedtime. Lexi, who won the coin toss and got to sit up in the front, is the first to get inside the little house we rent. I’m stuck in between the luggage in the back, waiting for Jen to dig me out. She’s busy replying to a text, not that I’ve been saying I need to go to the bathroom for the past hour or anything. I’m reaching my hands to try and open the back door myself when Lexi comes back out, worry all over her face.
“Hey guys,” she says uncertainly, “did either of you forget to close a tap or something?”
I look at Jen, who is just as confused as I am. She’s finally out of the car and pulling her suitcase onto the ground, so I scramble out, my legs complaining as I finally stretch them out after five hours.
“No. Of course not,” I say. “Why?”
“Because there’s water dripping down the stairs,” Lexi says.
“Dripping?”
“Like, a lot of dripping. Maybe even more than dripping. Flowing maybe?”
Jen takes off for the house and I follow, my leg cramps and full bladder totally forgotten. The two of us rush in the side door, through the kitchen and dining room to the stairs. Lexi’s right. It’s definitely more than a drip. What the hell is going on? I’m the only one of us wearing flipflops, so I gingerly make my way up the stairs. One thing that I immediately discover: our floors are slanted. Who knew? The way that the upstairs is laid out means that my room and Jen’s have an inch of water already, while Lexi’s is completely dry. Two more steps in and I see the problem. Something busted in the toilet. Immediately I feel grossed out, but there’s nowhere to get my feet out of the water.
“Jen! Call the landlord” I yell down the stairs. “It’s really, really bad. Everything’s underwater.”
It’s almost an hour before our landlord gets a plumber out and shows up himself, and another two before all the extra water is sucked out of the house. The damage is done though. There’s definitely water in the walls, and it’s going to take a while to get fixed. Luckily, I have most of my stuff off the floor, so it’s not like I lost much. Jen on the other hand is a slob, and most of her clothes are soaked. I have no idea if she’s keeping them, but I’m not sure I would. They’ve been soaked in toilet water for who knows how long. We would be able to sleep in our rooms tonight, but we were going to have to get out as soon as possible. Our landlord leaves after that, and we’re way too tired to figure out what to do. My laundry is definitely going to have to wait. There are huge fans everywhere to dry out some of the carpet and the rooms, making it hot and almost impossible to sleep well.
Not that I can. While Jen has family nearby and Lexi has a boyfriend to stay with, I’m pretty much on my own. And our stupid landlord couldn’t care less. There’s probably some clause in our contract that says what happens in the event of a flood or something, but I’m just a dumb college kid. What am I going to do to him? And he’s right. I don’t have time to try to take him to court, or whatever else it’ll take to make him cough up money for a hotel stay (As if. He hasn’t even fixed our wonky front door, which has been broken since we’d moved in a year and a half ago). This late into the year it’s almost impossible to find a place to rent that’s available. And forget about it being affordable. If I had a car it might not be too bad, but as of right now I am out of options.
I wish that I could contact my parents. I left them a few messages, but they have just left on a cruise yesterday, so who knows when they’ll get it. The three of us sit around the living room for a while, texting and trying to figure something out for me, then we head to our rooms one by one. I try to sleep, but of course, my mind keeps going over my options, running from this solution to that, but there really isn’t anything that I can do on such short notice. I don’t even know when I’ll find the time to look for a new place; the last half of the semester is always the busiest.
The sun is peeking over the trees and into my window when my parents call. I feel like a zombie, my head fuzzy from the lack of sleep.
“Hailey,” my dad says, his voice jolly. “We just got your message.”
“You did?” Maybe he didn’t understand it. Why else would he be sounding so happy?
“Took them a while to pass on the message, but we did. Terrible thing. Sent your mother into a spell. But I’ve sorted something out for you. You remember Mark?”
How could I not remember Mark? Mark, my dad’s oldest, and best friend. Mark, of the clear blue eyes and delicious body that my teenage self adored. Mark, who just happened to move to this city four years ago and was the sole reason for my application to my university. That Mark? Oh yeah, I remember him dad. Of course, I said none of that. I couldn’t even admit my crush to my roommates, much less my parents.
“Who? Your friend?” was all I said.
“Yes. That Mark,” he said impatiently. “He lives not too far from you. Says he’s more than happy to offer you a place to stay while your landlord fixes the problems in the house.”
My mouth is suddenly very dry. My heart is also jumping out of my chest. My dad must have gotten his meds mixed up this morning. How could I possibly stay with Mark?
“Dad, did you just tell me to go live with Mark?”
“Well, why not? He’s got a huge place. Ten bedrooms or something like that. And he’s never around half the time. It would be perfect for you. Plus, I’d rest a little easier knowing that Mark is keeping an eye on you. I never really liked the idea of you going off to universi
ty alone.”
“Dad...” I say huffily. I hate having this argument with him.
“I know I know. You’re an independent adult and all that. Doesn’t mean I can’t worry. Anyways, do you have a pen? I’m going to give you his address right now.”
“But wait,” I start to say. “I can’t just show up at his door. I don’t think I’ve seen him in almost five years now.”
“Sure you can. We go way back. He’s already agreed to it. He stuck his key under the potted plant on the left side of the door for you so you can move yourself in today. He’s got some kind of work thing he said. I would do the same if he settled down long enough to have kids. Now come on. Your mother is going to be annoyed if I don’t get back soon.”
I scramble out of bed to my purse and reach for a pen so I can write down Mark’s address. After that, my dad says goodbye and I’m left with my thoughts. A part of me wants to jump up and down with joy because this was what I wanted- to be closer to Mark. The other, more rational part, isn’t so sure. When I moved to the city to begin school, the first thing I did was shoot Mark a text message telling him I was around, and if he had some time to show me the sights. He told me he’d try sometime when he wasn’t so busy, and like a dummy I waited, until I realized that he was just gently letting me down. Which I don’t blame him for. I’m his best friend’s kid. Not exactly someone a man like Mark, a world famous photographer, would be interested in hanging out with. He probably dated models or gorgeous bohemian artists.
After that first rejection, I made a point of just lusting after Mark from afar. There was one time last year when my parents showed up for a surprise visit and I saw him at dinner. He looked good, really good. Whereas my dad had headed straight for a beer gut and a receding hairline, Mark had turned out more handsome if anything, like a good whiskey. His hair was shot through with silver, and he had a few more laugh lines around his eyes, which he wore so well. That, combined with his easygoing smile and intelligent wit made him the all around perfect package. Like George Clooney, but in real life. In my life.
You’d think I’d have taken that chance to really change his mind about me, make him realize that I was an equal or something, but I spent most of that night tongue-tied while he discussed some new hotshot photographer with my dad. Afterwards, I spent ages googling the names they’d talked about, hoping that I’d get another chance to impress, but of course I wouldn’t be that lucky. He was just too busy. But now I’ll have my chance! I jumped out of bed so that I could get to the shower first. If I’m going to be living at his place by the end of the day, I’d better look my best.
**********
The only good thing about the burst in the toilet is that it happened on the weekend, because Monday is an early day for us and we get home by around three. We are all pre-med students. It just works out better that way. We have almost identical schedules, and none of us would be upset about the other person being loud or having people over because frankly, nobody had the time. Lexi’s boyfriend and Jen’s mom shows up as well to help us move all our things.
Of the three of us, Jen has the most since she lived in the same city- she basically brought her entire bedroom from her parent’s house. The landlord called this morning to let us know that the repairs were estimated to take months and we are freed from our lease essentially. That was the worst news possible. There’s no way we’d be able to find a place for all three of us to stay together long term. We all know it too, because all of us are pretty somber. Jen is the first to go, giving the two of us long, tight hugs.
“We’re still going to see each other in class,” I murmur into her ear as she squeezes me.
“I know. But it’s not going to be the same, is it Hailey?”
She gives me a sad smile.
“Give me a call once you get settled in alright?” she makes me promise. I nod.
Even though the three of us are good friends, Jen is more perceptive of the two and she knows something has me going about the move. I only told them the rough details- I was staying with a family friend for a bit while I tried to find a permanent place. But I had a feeling Jen was going to ask me more about it later tonight.
Once Lexi, her boyfriend and I have our stuff packed up in his Civic, we head out. Mark’s place isn’t far, maybe twenty minutes by car, and luckily had a bus a few blocks away that could deliver me to the university. Neighborhood-wise though, it was miles apart from where I now used to live. The houses around the university are older, smaller, and more run down. Mark’s neighborhood was richer, a lot richer, with big old trees, huge lots, and I see more than one gated community as we drive by. Finally we stop in front of a gorgeous brick home. It’s at least two stories, maybe three, and it looked like it had a big yard too. I wonder if I’ll even see Mark half the time in a house this big.
“Hailey! You’re staying here?” Lexi says in awe as she peers out the window. “It looks amazing! Like something out of HGTV.”
“Yeah,” I say, admiring the home too. “Dad says he’s a pretty famous photographer. People pay a lot for his pictures.”
Lexi spins around and stares at me.
“Wait, what do you mean by ‘he’? Are you staying with a man? Alone? You?”
“It’s not like that!” I say defensively, a blush creeping up my cheek.
“Uh huh,” Lexi says skeptically.
“It’s not!” I say again as I slide out of the car and pull my suitcase out.
I quickly shut the door so that I won’t have to try and explain more, but Lexi is making the ‘call me’ sign with her hand, and I know that she’s not going to let me off easy. Damn my fair skin. My embarrassment always shows through. I tried to lie once when I was little, but my mom set me straight, and I’ve given up trying to lie ever since.
Once Lexi’s boyfriend drives around the corner, I turn and take my suitcase up the walk. The lawn is perfectly manicured, and the house is set back far enough from the road to give some privacy. Large trees out front give shade, and the flowerbeds are full of blooms. I go up to the covered porch and spy two huge pots on either side of the doorway. I have to crouch down and push with all my might to get it to budge enough to reveal a key. I push that into the lock, pray that Mark didn’t have some fancy security system, and open the door.
Chapter 2
Hailey
There is a note for me on the entryway table. I drag my suitcase inside, close the door and pick up the note. It’s in Mark’s hand, with neat uppercase letters. A weird little part of me wants to tuck the note in my pocket and keep it somewhere. On it he tells me to pick whichever room I want and to settle in. He’s busy with a meeting, but he will try to be home by dinnertime. That’s perfect, I think. It’ll give me just enough time to fix myself up and explore a little bit.
I have to go carefully up the wide wooden stairs. Everything looks expensive, and the last thing I want to do is scuff up the place as soon as I get here. By the time I reach the landing, I’m cursing myself for bringing so much crap. There are two hallways, one to the left and one to the right. I take the right and open the first door. It’s a guest bedroom. I can tell because there’s absolutely zero personality to it. Everything is in shades of blue, with splashes of white in the picture frames of a beach, duvet, and lamps. To the right side is a small desk and bookcase, and to the left, two doors. One for the closet, and the second to a bathroom. It’s definitely nicer than anything else I’ve lived in so far.
My suitcase gets shoved quickly into the closet, which has places for bags, shoes and more. Coming from two feet of closet space in the rental, this is luxury. I think about unpacking, but I’m way more interested in looking around the rest of the house. I’m not really the kind of person to go snooping (I mean, I don’t even poke through people’s bathrooms when I visit!), but this is Mark’s place, and I definitely want to know more about him. Plus I’m hungry. I had a sandwich for lunch, but with all that moving I did, I worked up an appetite. I switch my hoodie for a drapey, plum top and
freshen up my makeup, then I leave my room to explore.
First of course, is the kitchen, but as I make my way through the house, I realize that either Mark hired a decorator, or he’s got a girlfriend with great taste. Lexi was spot on when she said HGTV. Every room is tastefully done, friendly and cozy, but a little devoid of life. There aren’t any pictures of people or clutter like my roommates and I have all over our old house. The kitchen is big and spacious, like the rest of the house, and even has the bowl of fruit that you’d expect on the island. I pick up an apple and frown. It’s fake? I wonder before putting it back. I turn to the big Viking fridge next, but it’s just as disappointing. Aside from a few condiments, a half gallon of milk and a six pack of beer, it’s empty. I guess that a guy like Mark, who’s always busy, is more likely to eat out than at home. I decide there must not be a girlfriend in the picture, because she’d definitely have something in the house. Or at least, not a serious one. I’ll have to peek into the bathrooms later to be sure.
I turn to the pantry and find a box of cheerios. I shake out a handful. They’re stale, but they’re edible, so I spend a few minutes searching around for bowls and spoons, pour the milk and cheerios in, and carry it to the den. Right away I can tell that Mark spends time here. There’s a whole bookcase full of DVDs, an enormous TV and an overstuffed recliner that definitely didn’t fit with the rest of the decor in the house. I sit down in it with a little smile. This is where Mark would come to unwind for sure. I stand back up and wander. He’s got a varied taste in film, that’s for sure. There are some foreign titles in there, mixed in with comedies, drama’s, some old black and white films... everything according to some kind of order that I can’t figure out.
Hungry to know even more about Mark, I turn towards the two French doors in the far side of the room. It looks like his study, and I hesitate. There could be some pretty private things in a person’s study, I know, and I’m not sure if I should go in this room or not. One of the doors is open though, so I could just puuuuush it open a little and peek inside, right?