"Okay, and all I'm saying is that there's better things for the cops to be doing than treating me like a criminal because I had a drink with my meal."
"I'm sure there are." Ally had to let this go.
"The drug problem in this city has gotten out of hand," Sydney said, closing the locker door. "That's what they should be focused on."
"I don't disagree." Ally didn't know why she was wasting her breath trying to have a conversation with this woman. She clearly had a ridiculously high opinion of herself, and nothing Ally could say would change her mind.
"It might help people from ending up here."
Ally was just about to say goodnight and forget about this conversation, but she couldn't let that one slip. "They're not all drug addicts and alcoholics, you know. I hope you realize that by now."
"Maybe not every single one of them."
"I'm sure you think they're all criminals too? You don't wear any jewelry when you come here, and I see you don't have a purse again tonight."
That made Sydney's eyebrows rise. "Again, I'm just telling it like I see it. The majority of-"
"Have you even spoken to anyone who stays here?"
"No. That's not really part of it. I do whatever job I'm given when I come here. Today it was cleaning the restrooms."
Ally bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. Jess had said the other day that she wanted to get Sydney doing some cleaning, and she actually did it. Damn it. That's twenty bucks gone. Ally really thought that was a done deal, that Sydney would turn it down, find some excuse not to scrub toilets, and Ally would win their bet.
"You might want to think about dressing a little more casually," Ally said, still trying to suppress a smile. "You know, if you've got fifty more hours of this."
"Fifty-four, and I just came from a meeting."
"On a Sunday?"
Sydney nodded. "You can sell real-estate any day of the week. Why limit myself to Monday to Friday?"
Ally really wanted to roll her eyes. There was something about Sydney that rubbed her the wrong way. She really hated people looking down on the homeless. She didn't mind people who were rich or successful. It wasn't about the way Sydney dressed or how hard she apparently worked. It was the way she assumed so many things about the people who stayed here.
The only positive thing that Ally could say about Sydney was that she was gorgeous, and although this conversation had made her blood boil, at least she got to spend the last five minutes looking at her.
God, I need to get out more.
"Alright," Ally said with a sigh. "I'm going to head home. I'm sure we'll have the pleasure of working together again soon?" She didn't know if her sarcasm would be lost on Sydney or not.
"I'm doing mornings this week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Do you come here every day?"
Ally nodded. "Most days. I live a few blocks away, so it's easy to stop by for an hour or two most evenings." Ally gave her a wave as she walked by, that familiar perfume sending a tingle of desire through her body. Yeah, I really need to get out more. "Goodnight, Sydney."
"Goodnight."
The sun sank lower in the sky, dipping behind the trees. The sidewalk was covered in a light dusting of snow, and Ally rubbed her hands together, wishing she'd thought to bring gloves with her. She didn't know where this year had gone, but somehow it was already November.
She slid her hand into the pocket of her jeans and found two bills, a twenty and a ten. At least, she could settle up with Jess tonight. She really thought that bet was a lock.
Hard-working. That was another thing she could add to the short list of reasons to give Sydney a chance. Ally really hated judging people, but in her mind, Sydney was still the snobbish, wealthy businesswoman who thought that the only reason people ended up in a homeless shelter was because they were drug addicts or alcoholics.
Ally ran into those stereotypes ten years ago, and very little had changed since. But most people who volunteered at the shelter, even for a few hours, came away with a new perspective, a new awareness of just how close most people are to ending up on the streets. Every few weeks Ally seemed to hear roughly the same stat being thrown around whether it was on the news or some blog. Forty percent of Americans were one paycheck away from poverty.
How was that possible? As soon as Ally got a job, putting away a few hundred in case of an emergency was the first thing she did. Now, years later, she had six months worth of income stashed away in a savings account. She was definitely not going back to where she was twelve years ago.
It wasn't your fault though.
Ally had to keep reminding herself of that fact. She hadn't racked up credit card debt. She hadn't lost her job. She'd just been kicked out of her house by her homophobic parents, and she hadn't been prepared to live on her own.
Ally had seen such a wide variety of people come through the shelter, from all kinds of backgrounds, and she really hoped that Sydney would start to realize that they couldn't all be painted with the same brush. Surely, fifty plus hours working there would change her mind.
Ally scoffed as she turned onto her street. With the way Sydney acted, she really wasn't sure if she would ever change her mind.
Chapter Five
"Thanks for covering for me," Sydney said as she brought her cappuccino to her lips, savoring her first caffeine hit of the day at her favorite coffee shop.
Clarke Waller, her best friend and business partner, flashed her his most charming smile. "Hey, taking on some of your meetings is better than having to go visit you in jail."
Sydney rolled her eyes. Wait for it...
"Have you thought about what it'd be like?"
"Going to jail? No. I preferred not to think about the alternative."
"You'd have your very own lesbian prison love story. You'd run the place," he said, and just like that, he was off in fantasy land. "You'd probably have all the women vying for your attention. Or maybe you'd get involved with a guard? That would be hot."
"Yes, because that's what my life is like right now," Sydney said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Women chasing after me. Why would I suddenly become interesting in prison? Because I'm the new girl? My crime isn't even sexy."
"No. Interesting isn't your problem." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, pushing his gray tie out of the way. "You work too hard. Which is great for me. I'm not complaining, but that's your problem."
"I wasn't aware that I had a problem."
"Well, you don't. Not if you're happy being single. I'm just pointing out the difference between this Sydney and prison boss Sydney."
He sat back again, sinking into the leather chair as he crossed one leg over the other, looking completely satisfied with himself. With his black hair, blue eyes and designer suits, he always looked like he just stepped away from a photoshoot for GQ magazine.
"So... If I had gone to prison instead of doing sixty hours of community service, you're saying that I'd be surrounded by women?"
He nodded. "Yes. What else would you have to do? Although, I wouldn't put it past you to figure out a way to sell an apartment from behind bars," he said with a laugh. "Now, that would make a good TV show."
Sydney felt a smile tugging at her lips. Over the years, she'd learned to put up with his strange sense of humor. They were like an old married couple, but they were both gay, and Sydney couldn't have asked for a better friend.
"I know you don't like celebrating your birthday," Clarke said a few minutes later.
"I sense a 'but' coming."
"But we should really celebrate our agency anniversary. I feel like twenty years is a big deal."
When Sydney met Clarke twenty-two years ago, he was a struggling realtor, on the verge of quitting. Sydney mentored him, and it started off as a purely business relationship, but they quickly became friends, and twenty years ago they’d started their agency together.
"It is. Twenty years of putting up with you is a big deal," she said with a smirk. "But how about we wait for twen
ty-five years?" Sydney didn't need any more distractions this year. Fitting in all those hours at the shelter was enough.
"Oh, great! Then we can have a joint party. Twenty-five years in business together and your fiftieth. We can book the-"
"No." Sydney shook her head, her smile gone. "Absolutely not. There will be no fiftieth birthday party. I'm being serious, and you know this. Who would want to celebrate turning fifty? I already have these wrinkles around my eyes reminding me of how old I am," she said, pointing to the crows feet that she'd been growing more and more self-conscious of.
"Look, my bathroom counter is lined with anti-wrinkle and anti-aging products. I know all about getting older."
"You're forty-two, and you don't look a day over thirty-five. Plus, it's different for men. How is it that you all get more handsome with age?"
He laughed. "I don't know about that. Although, I do like myself an older man. Maybe, that's what you need." His eyes lit up, and Sydney knew she was in trouble when he got that look. He was on a mission.
"I'm not sure I need anything, but it's definitely not going to be an older man."
"A younger woman."
"Not that again." Sydney waved him off before taking another sip of coffee.
"Hey, don't judge until you've actually dated someone younger."
"What do you know about it? You're always with guys at least ten years older than you."
"And I know what I do for them," he said with a wink.
"Alright. Enough."
"I'm serious, Syd. Being with someone younger than you is exciting. I know that I've given them a confidence boost."
"I don't need someone to stroke my ego."
"But you do need someone to stro-"
"Clarke!"
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I just want what's best for you."
"Business. That's what's best for me. Selling out the biggest project we've ever taken on is what's best for me. That's what will make me happy. We're here to talk real estate."
He cleared his throat. "Right. Real estate."
"So, what happened this morning?"
Sydney got out of the backseat of her car later that day, thanking her driver as she adjusted her scarf to cover her neck. She looked up through the snow flurries at the gray sky and the construction site at the end of the street. They couldn't drive as far as the building because there were at least a dozen protesters marching up and down the sidewalk with posters and a megaphone.
"Why can't things ever be easy?" Sydney muttered as she walked towards the crowd. Don't people have better things to be doing than protesting at a private building site at two o'clock in the afternoon?
Sydney tried to make out the signs as she got closer, but she wanted to get through the protesters as quickly and discreetly as possible. If they thought she had anything to do with the building, they'd probably try and prevent her from entering the site. They were chanting something about the government and taxes. The usual.
She had to make sure this project stayed on schedule, and she didn't have time for extra distractions. They'd already jumped through hoops to get this apartment building started. She'd done more schmoozing in the last two years trying to keep everyone happy, especially the developer. Sydney had really thought they were over the worst it.
"What's one more obstacle?" she asked herself as she got closer to the racket, squeezing through the crowd. She spotted the developer on the fifth floor, looking down at the scene with his hardhat on, pacing. She'd have to figure out how to reassure him. There was no way this little protest would halt a multi-million dollar deal.
She picked up one of the spare hardhats inside the glass doors, putting it on as her eyes swept the open space of what would eventually be the lobby. Half a dozen workers were milling around, and Sydney wished she had ear plugs. Metal clanked against metal somewhere above her and the almost constant whine of drills along with the radio blaring from the far side of the room was going to give her a headache.
Sydney left the busy lobby, finding the stairs. She took a thirty-second break between each flight, not wanting to meet the developer completely winded. She finally made it to the fifth floor and took a deep breath. Plastic still hung from almost every doorway, and she pushed it to the side, moving from apartment to apartment until she found Michael.
"Sydney," he said, turning from the floor to ceiling windows when he heard her come in, her heels echoing in the empty space.
"Michael." She extended her hand. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, joining him at the windows and looking down at the street and the cars who honked in support of the protesters.
"Just this week."
"What are they even protesting?"
"Somehow word got out that the city was looking at this site as a potential location for a new homeless shelter. They know they have a problem. The one on the other side of town is at maximum capacity almost every night."
Sydney shook her head. "The owner of the old warehouse that was here was a private seller. Of course, they were going to go with the highest bidder. The city just need to find somewhere else to put the shelter."
Michael nodded. "I know. The location was ideal for it. That's what they're arguing, and it's true. That's why I wanted this site. It's near to everything. Schools, the hospital, public transport... And apparently, the site the city's looking at now is on the edge of town. It's all they can afford."
"I'll look into it. This isn't doing us any favors. This building is going to have the best facilities of any apartment complex in the entire city, and if this keeps going on, all people will remember is how it replaced a potential homeless shelter."
Michael sighed. "I know. That's what I'm worried about. And the workers' safety. It doesn't take much to start something. If those protesters decide to block the entrance some day, preventing some of our guys getting in... It's a publicity nightmare. We look like assholes, and we're just doing our jobs."
"I'm going to take care of it.”
"Hmmm. We're at that crucial stage now. So much money and time has been invested. It'd be a shame to have to start over now, to abandon the site."
"It won't come to that," Sydney said. "I promise."
Chapter Six
Ally stole a glance over her shoulder where Sydney was folding towels behind her, and somehow, Ally found that sexy. Sydney's glossy hair had fallen across her eye, her black nail polish contrasting against the white towels that she was neatly folding and stacking.
Does she do that at home? Surely, she has a maid.
Ally shook her head as she got back to making arrival bags, filling a canvas tote bag with some toiletries, socks, gloves, and a toothbrush. She had no life. It was official now. This fascination with Sydney wasn't going anywhere, and even Jess had picked up on it, because Ally kept jumping to defend her anytime Sydney's name came up.
Jess couldn't understand how this woman could still look down at the people that stayed here even after volunteering for three weeks. Ally didn't know how many hours she'd clock up, but it had to be at least twenty. Sydney was here two or three days a week for an hour, and that was just what Ally witnessed. She had no idea if she was here when Ally wasn't, and she wasn't going to check the log. That would be borderline stalking, but she still got this pretentious vibe from Sydney.
Ally hoped that she was slowly but surely seeing how important the work they were doing at the shelter was.
Jess didn't get it. Now that she knew Sydney was only here to complete her community service requirements, Jess made very little effort to get to know her, despite all the hours that Sydney would be spending there. The regular volunteers were all friendly with one another, but Jess couldn't warm to Sydney, and Ally didn't blame her.
Ally did have a few pleasant conversations with Sydney since they almost argued in the lounge two weeks ago, and although Sydney didn't give much away about her personal life, she was easy to talk to. Ally discovered that they both loved horror movies and that Sydney had the
same problem that Ally did, finding someone to go with her to the movies to see them. Jess refused. She'd seen one particularly gory movie with her years ago and vowed never to go again.
It could be one of her worst ideas, but Ally was seriously debating asking Sydney to go with her. A paranormal movie came out last month just in time for Halloween, and if she wanted to see it on the big screen, she had to go this week. Why not ask Sydney if she'd like to come with her?
Ally's sigh must have been louder than she intended because Sydney cleared her throat. "Everything okay?" Sydney asked, adding another towel to the pile
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."
"That didn't sound like it..."
Ally didn't say anything as she pulled an empty bag off the shelf and started packing it. There was no point asking her. What would that achieve? Sydney wouldn't want to be friends with someone like her. They were clearly living very different lives, and if she was being honest with herself, Ally wasn't even interested in friendship.
Sydney was stunning, distractingly so, and Ally found herself drawn to her. That was all it was. She was interested in Sydney even though she was probably straight and at least ten if not fifteen years older than her.
"So," Sydney said a few minutes later. "Any plans for Thanksgiving? Big family dinner tonight?"
"No. No plans." Ally wasn't going to admit that her night would involve Netflix and the couch. Jess had made the two hour drive to her family's house to spend the holiday with her brother and his kids, along with their parents. Jess had invited her, and Ally had gone with her before, but she decided to stay at home this year. "What about you?"
"No. Nothing special planned."
Ally's heart beat a little faster. She wanted to ask why. Why didn't she have any plans? Wasn't she married? Didn't she have family to spend it with? But Ally never asked those questions.
"Do you want to go to the movies tonight?" Ally asked instead. The words were out of her mouth before she'd thought it through. "That supernatural horror everyone's talking about isn't going to be out much longer... Have you seen it?" Wow, that was some desperate rambling. Way to go.
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