Текст книги "Cardinal"
Автор книги: Sara Mack
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Cardinal
By SARA MACK
Cardinal
Copyright © 2015 Sara Mack
All Rights Reserved
First Kindle Edition: 2015
Cover art by Cover to Cover Designs
Photograph by Mandy Hollis of MH Photography
Edited by Red Ribbon Editing Services
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products listed in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Dedicated to
All readers who ask for more
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Epilogue ~ One Year Later
Acknowledgements
Dean McCarthy and the Union ~ Set List
About the Author
Chapter One
Do you know what I hate?
Having the rug pulled out from under me.
I also hate the sinking feeling my stomach gets when something bad happens. I hate when panic sets in, and the back of my neck breaks out in a cold sweat. I hate the feeling I might throw up at any minute, and I hate that I always fall for lies.
Fuck you, Ross. I mean, Derek.
Reaching for one of the earrings he gave me, I rip it out of my ear. “Thanks a lot asshole!” I throw it at him and it bounces off his chest. I grab the other earring and do the same. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I get in his face. “Why the fake name? Were you worried you’d get caught? Karma sure is a funny bitch.”
“I don’t have time for you right now,” my married boyfriend snaps.
“Perfect!” I yell. “Because I don’t have any more time for you.” I start to walk away, then stop. “I suggest you leave before the Dayton brothers kick your ass.” My ex, Kyle, and his brother, Kevin, look ready for a fight.
I almost make it to the other side of the room before I hear a fist connect with a jaw. Staring straight ahead, I keep walking and try to calm my racing pulse. When I make it to the dance floor, I pick up my guitar; before all hell broke loose, Kyle and I had just finished playing a song for Kevin’s wedding. I send a silent message to my friends: Sorry about the additional entertainment, guys.
After I put my acoustic back in its case, I decide leaving now would be my best option. I feel tears coming on, and I don’t get those often. Keeping my head down, I make a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, Kevin is on his way back from disposing of Derek, and he intercepts me. He places a hand on each of my shoulders to stop me from walking.
“Jen.” He tries to catch my eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say. “I don’t want your night ruined any more than it has been.”
“C’mon.” He squeezes my shoulders. “My night isn’t ruined. Yours shouldn’t be either; that guy’s a prick. You deserve better.”
I force a smile. I’ve been friends with Kevin for the last five years, after I accidentally rear-ended his car when mine slid on ice. “Don’t try to sugarcoat it. My romantic life is in the toilet.” He should know. He set me up with his brother, Kyle, and that relationship lasted three years before it tanked.
Kevin grimaces. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I know, but I need to.”
Just then, Kyle and Addison walk up to us. My eyes bounce from Kyle’s swollen cheek to Addison’s pale complexion. She must be traumatized because Kyle got hit and her husband’s a bigger dick than she thought. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” She looks sympathetic. “He gave you his middle name. Even if he was honest, what were the odds of your Derek being the same as mine?”
I feel the need to tell her everything I know. Maybe it’s to assuage my own guilt; I’m not sure. “We met on New Year’s Eve, but he didn’t call for months,” I say. “We’ve been seeing each other since the end of February.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Addison steps forward. “My marriage was hurting well before New Year’s Eve.”
“Still,” I sigh. “I feel awful. I just … I just want to go home.”
After I say goodbye, I make it outside into the cool night air. You would think the month of May would be warmer, but it’s still spring in Michigan. Shivering, I quickly find my car, put my guitar in the trunk, and then slam the door shut. It’s always good to take out your aggressions on inanimate objects. They can’t hit back.
During the drive home I try to bury my thoughts, but my emotions won’t have it. Tears escape the corners of my eyes and they make the white traffic lines blurry. How is it I have the most shittastic luck when it comes to men? Is there a sign on my forehead I can’t see? It must say “Assholes Apply Here. Employment guaranteed.” Thankfully P!nk comes on the radio and distracts me. I turn up the volume and shout along to “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”. It’s cathartic.
When I reach my exit, I pull off the expressway and concentrate on driving through the sleepy little town I’ve lived in my entire life. When I park in front of my apartment building, I turn off the ignition and wipe beneath my eyes. No one should be around to see my mascara-streaked face, but I still don’t want to look like Alice Cooper. Even if one of my neighbors did question me, I doubt they would actually care. They’d just think I’m the girl from D3 who always stays out too late. Judging by some of the looks I get, my neighbors think I party. My reality is much more tame. I tend bar for a living and work late hours. Sue me, nosey people.
Once I make my way inside, I kick off my heels, toss my purse on the table, and head straight for the bathroom. Turning the water on full blast, I take off the blue party dress I bought especially for the wedding tonight. I hang it on the back of the door and run my fingers over the fabric. Will I ever wear it again? If I do, it will only remind me of Douchebag Derek and the fact that I slept with a married man.
After a moment, I decide yes. Even though my heart stings, I, Jen Elliott, will wear this dress again. Maybe not anytime soon.
But I will.
Stepping into the shower, the hot water pulls the curls from my hair and a few angry tears from my eyes. It turns my skin pink, and I stand under it long enough to wrinkle my fingers and toes. When the water runs cold, I get out and wrap myself in a towel. What I wouldn’t give to start over.
I’m not talking about the shower. I’m talking about going back in time and correcting a few things. I run my hand over the steam-covered mirror and stare at my foggy reflection. Apparently, I’m destined to be single bartender for the rest of my life. There are worse fates.
Right?
My destiny doesn’t feel too glamorous, not that it ever did. Sighing, I dry my hair and then find my bed. I slide beneath the sheets and hug a pillow to my chest. I have to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.
I have to forget Derek tomorrow.
I have to pick myself up and start over again … tomorrow.
Chapter Two
When I pull into work the next day, my boss is outside unlocking the door. Frowning, I park in my usual spot and cut the engine. I’ve worked at Jay’s Sports Bar for four years, and this is the first time my boss has been late. Since she owns the restaurant, Norma always arrives an hour earlier than the rest of us to get her paperwork done.
“Hey,” I call to her when I step out of my car. “Everything okay?”
Startled, Norma drops her keys and a few papers. She turns around and holds one hand to her chest. “Oh, Jen. You scared me.”
Confused, I walk toward her. “Didn’t you hear me pull in?”
All five feet of my sixty-year-old boss looks worn and frazzled as she bends down to pick up what she dropped. “I guess my mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”
I smile and crouch down to help her. “Well, it is Sunday. We should be home relaxing.” I pull a few papers into a pile and can’t help but notice they’re all the same. My eyes catch a few words printed on each piece and my stomach starts to knot. Swallowing, I ask, “What’s going on?”
Norma looks defeated as takes the papers from my hands. “Jay’s is closing,” she says, her voice barely audible. “Leon is sick. Real sick.”
I blink a few times. Leon Jay, Norma’s husband, has been battling emphysema for as long as I can remember. “I thought he was feeling better,” I say.
“He was. Now …” Her voice fades. “He’s not.”
My heart goes out to her. I know how much she loves her husband and his condition has been tough on both of them, especially since she’s still working.
“We’re running out of money,” she says as we both stand. “We’ve had some unexpected medical bills; things our insurance won’t cover.” Norma hands one of the letters back to me so I can read it. “A few months ago, Applebee’s expressed interest in opening a restaurant in the area. They offered to buy us out.” She hesitates. “We agreed.”
My eyes scan the letter, but I can’t concentrate. “When is this happening?”
“It was supposed to happen at the end of the year.”
“But?”
“We officially close tomorrow.”
Questions bounce around my brain. “Why so soon?”
“More time is needed for renovations,” she explains. “This is an old building, and it needs some repairs.”
The words “first opportunity to apply” jump off the paper at me, and my shoulders sag. “None of us have jobs, do we?”
Norma closes her eyes. Somehow, when she opens them again, she looks years older. “They said our staff will have the first chance to apply, but you’re right. Employment isn’t guaranteed.”
Now my stomach truly sinks. I need to start job hunting. I glance down at my feet, at the invisible rug that’s being pulled from under me for the second time in a matter of hours. Tension fills my body and Norma must notice, because she tries to ease it.
“You know you’re like family to me,” she says with a sad voice. “It was a hard decision to sell this place, let alone share the news before I was ready. You need to know I’m going to pay you for the next six months, through the date we were supposed to close. It’s the least I can do.”
I give my boss a resigned smile. While her gesture is nice, the $7.40 I make an hour is nothing without tips.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Norma looks pained. “I’ve been dreading this day.”
Even though I’m the furthest thing from happy, I can’t be mad at Norma. I understand why she made the decision she did; family comes first. I set my hand on her arm to try and comfort her. “It’s okay. Your husband is the most important thing.”
She pats my hand.
A car door slams behind me and I realize my coworkers are starting to arrive. I look at the letter, then back to my boss. “Am I free to go?” I don’t think I want to relive this conversation.
“Sure,” she says and squeezes my fingers. “If you need a letter of recommendation, please let me know.”
I nod and, defeated, turn and head back to my car. First Derek, now my job. What else can go wrong?
~~~~
Later that evening, after I spent the day driving around to find job applications, I stop at Starbucks for comfort food. I figure I deserve it after the last two days. Armed with a caramel Frappuccino and a double chocolate chunk brownie, I pull up to my apartment building only to discover I can’t enter the parking lot. Two police cars and three fire trucks block the entrance.
You have got to be kidding me.
The flashing lights are blinding as I drive by. I park down the road and get out of the car to walk home. As I get closer, I can smell smoke. There was a fire? I hope no one got hurt. Thoughts begin to swirl in my mind: I straightened my hair this morning. Did I turn off the flat iron? What if I caused this? I was a little distracted because I woke up to a Derek/Ross text:
I want to see you.
Fat chance, asshole.
I reach a group of people huddled on the sidewalk wearing sweats and pajamas. “What happened?” I ask.
“Fire.” An older woman I’ve seen in the laundry room turns around. “It started a few hours ago over on the end.” She points. “Building D.”
Figures. It’s my building. At least I’m not responsible; my unit is in the middle.
“Did they put it out?”
“Yes, but rumor has it the indoor sprinkler system caused more damage than the actual fire.” She looks around the group. “Before we evacuated, our units were soaked.”
My mouth falls open. “So everything is wet?”
“Likely so.”
Oh no. The last thing I can afford right now is to replace my things.
Overwhelmed, I step away from the group and sit down on the curb. I hold my head in my hands and stare at the pavement. My life has gone from normal to insane so fast I may have set a Guinness Record. I must have royally pissed off the universe, although I don’t know how. My breathing becomes erratic as I realize everything I love is converging on ruin.
“Miss?”
I look up to find a fireman standing beside me.
“Do you live here?”
I nod while I consider asking him to save me from my life. He’s a hero. That’s what they do.
He crouches down to my level. “Chief says all residents are clear to go inside and get what they need for the night. Your landlord has opened the clubhouse as a temporary shelter.”
I squint. “How long will it be until we can stay in our apartments?”
“Things are pretty messed up.” He frowns. “I guess it depends on how fast the building gets cleaned and inspected.”
That’s not good news. Slowly, I stand. The firefighter helps by steadying my elbow. “Thanks,” I say.
“Do you need any other help?”
I let out a sarcastic snort. “You have no idea.”
He chuckles, then steps away. “My name is Peyton, if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Peyton.”
He winks at me and I notice his eyes. They’re a stunning shade of blue. As he turns and walks over to another group of people, my frazzled mind does the most inappropriate thing possible: it wonders what he looks like under all that gear.
Really, Jen?! I chastise myself. This is not the time or the place to think about guys. Given my most recent romance, I should swear them off all together. With my luck, he probably has a wife, a girlfriend, and kids.
Just then, my phone rings in my bag. I reach for it and swipe the screen to answer as I walk. “Hey, Peter.”
“Hey, Little J!”
I roll my eyes at my oldest brother’s nickname for me. Actually, all my brothers call me that. After Peter, there’s Josh and then Adam. I’m the youngest and the only girl.
“Pete. I’m not a kid. Stop calling me that.”
“You will always be Little J,” he says. “Anyway, listen, I need a favor.”
“Not now,” I snap.
“What’s wrong?”
One of the fire trucks starts to pull away from the scene, and it’s loud. I cover my other ear with my free hand and talk over the noise.
“I lost my job, my boyfriend is married, and my apartment almost burned down!”
“What?!” he exclaims. “Start from the beginning.”
I catch him up to speed as I pace in front of my building. Other tenants push past me to get their things, but I’m nervous to go inside and see the damage.
“Are you serious?” Pete asks. “Where will you stay?”
“With mom and dad.” It’s not my first choice, but it beats bunking at the clubhouse.
“You should stay with me.”
I scoff. “I can’t just drive to Chicago.”
“Why not? You have no job, no house, and no man.”
I’m silent.
“Every Christmas you say you’ll visit and you never do.”
That’s true. It’s been years since I’ve been to Chicago. My brother comes home for the holidays and we see each other then. Even though I always promise to visit him, I don’t. A trip to the city would seem like a vacation. In my line of work, I don’t get paid days off.
“There’s nowhere for me to sleep,” I say.
“I have a spare room.”
“What about Juliana?”
Juliana is Pete’s permanent girlfriend. At thirty-two years old I don’t think he’ll ever get married – or grow up. My brother works as a bouncer and religiously plays Call of Duty. Jules doesn’t seem to mind, however. She’s been with him for years.
“You know she loves you,” Pete says. “Besides, I’m at her place more than mine. Come out here, Little J. Escape for a while.”
That does sound enticing. I sigh. “I can’t right now.”
“You can.”
“I don’t think so. I need to find a job. Are you going to pay my bills?”
“If you need help, yes.”
“I won’t take your money, Pete.”
“Would you stop being so complicated?” He sounds like our dad. “Get your ass in the car and drive west. I’m trying to make you feel better and you’re not making it easy.”
A few of my neighbors walk out the door with their arms full of clothes and toiletries. The sight depresses me. I don’t want to be a nomad. I also don’t want to be a jobless twenty-six year old staying with her parents. Maybe I do need a change of scenery.
“Fine,” I say quietly.
“Fine? You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome.” I can sense his smile through the phone. “When are you leaving?”
I look up at my building. “After I pack, I suppose. It shouldn’t take long if everything is ruined.”
“So, I’ll see you in five or six hours?”
I walk up the steps and open the door. “I’ll call you along the way.”
Chapter Three
“Eeeeeep!” Juliana throws her arms around my neck. “You’re here!”
I stare at my brother over his girlfriend’s shoulder. I can’t return her hug. I have a suitcase in each hand, a bag over my arm, my guitar strapped to my back, and eyelids that weigh more than bricks.
“I’m here,” I choke out.
Pete grins. “Don’t strangle her, Jules.”
Juliana steps back and hangs on to my arms. “We’re going to have so much fun!” she gushes. “I made us a pedicure appointment, I added you as my guest at the gym, there’s a party tonight at Latson’s –”
“Whoa,” I say. “It’s the butt crack of dawn. How did you do all that?”
“Online, silly.”
Oh. Of course. Silly me.
“I think Jen needs some sleep,” my brother says as he reaches for one of my suitcases. “Is this everything or is there more in the car?”
“No, this is it.”
I was able to pack most of my clothes into two large suitcases since everything in the closet stayed dry. I tried to bring as much as possible because my landlord has no clue when cleanup will begin. When I talked to him before I left, he said he would call when he had any information. He also reminded me to contact my insurance company to make a claim for my belongings. I hope my parents will help, since my furniture is ruined and I left town before meeting an adjuster.
“Come see your room,” Juliana says and takes my other bag. “I tried to spruce it up a little, but we may have to go shopping.”
I look at my brother, confused.
“She’s been up all night,” he says.
Juliana elbows him. “You can’t invite her to stay with you and expect her to live in a pig sty.”
“Thanks,” I say. I can only imagine what he had piled in there.
I follow them through the living room and down the hallway. The apartment is decorated differently than I remember. It looks more modern. A few pieces of abstract art hang on the walls and the furniture is plush and overstuffed. The entertainment center looks like it was forged from steel. I assume the changes are a reflection of Juliana’s taste more than my brother’s. I’ve never known him to decorate with anything other than old road signs and bean bag chairs.
“If the closet isn’t big enough we can get a dresser,” Juliana says as we enter my new space.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Well …” She walks around the bed and opens the closet door. “I had to put Pete’s stuff somewhere.”
Half the closet is packed full. From where I stand I can see multiple shoe boxes, stacks of papers, and a couple of large plastic totes.
“Some of it is yours,” my brother grumbles as he sets my suitcase on the bed. “All that stuff from your yoga phase for example.”
Juliana makes a face. “Okay. So, there’s like, two things in there that are mine.”
I smile. Their bickering is cute. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it work.” I drop my tote bag at my feet, then pull my guitar strap over my head and set the instrument against the wall.
Pete looks at my bag. “What’s in there?”
“Just bathroom stuff and my purse.”
“The bathroom!” Juliana exclaims. She drops my suitcase and sprints toward the door. “I’ll clean out a drawer for you.”
My surprised eyes follow her as she leaves the room. “She’s excited,” I say as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, well.” My brother smiles and joins me. “Her best friend moved away about a month ago. She’s happy you’re here.”
I nod.
“So.” Pete clasps his hands between his knees. “How are you?”
“Tired,” I admit and roll my neck.
“Have you processed everything that’s happened?”
“Not really.” Instead of thinking during my drive, I turned up the music and turned off my brain.
“If you want me to kill him, I will.”
My brow jumps. “You mean my cheating ex-boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I have no doubt my brother could – and would – toss Derek. It’s what he does for a living. Pete cracks his knuckles for emphasis, and I notice his arm muscles flex against his shirt sleeve. “Have you gotten bigger?”
“A little.” He shrugs. “Answer my question.”
“You’re going to crush Juliana!” I playfully shove him. She’s so petite next to his huge, six-foot frame. “I don’t know why she puts up with you.”
He scowls. “What’s wrong with being healthy?”
“There’s a difference between being healthy and being Schwarzenegger.”
Juliana appears in the doorway holding a hair dryer. “I take it you don’t like big guys?”
To be honest, they intimidate me. “Obviously you do.”
She grins.
“I prefer my men to be more defined,” I say. “Not bulky.”
“Good to know.” Juliana wiggles her eyebrows before wrapping the dryer cord around the handle.
“Stop.” My brother glares at his woman. “My sister is here to relax, not date.”
“Whatever.” Juliana rolls her eyes.
I laugh, but silently agree with Pete.
“Now, back to my question.” He crosses his arms and looks at me. “Do you want me to kill him?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
His face lights up.
“But, no.”
His shoulders sag.
Scooting over, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. “Thank you for wanting to, though.”
“Did you at least bitch him out?” he asks, hopeful.
“Of course! You know who you’re talking to, right?”
My brother pats my knee.
Juliana disappears from the doorway only to reappear seconds later. “The second drawer in the bathroom is yours.”
“Great.” I reach for my tote bag to find my toothbrush. “I’m ready for bed.”
Pete stands. “We’ll leave you alone for now. Sleep tight, Little J.”
“Ugh,” I groan at my nickname. “Don’t call me that.”
He snickers.
“I’ll be at work most of the day, but I’ll be back in time to get ready for Latson’s,” Juliana says. “Did you bring any party clothes?”
“I’m sure I have something.” I glance at my suitcases. “What kind of place is it? A club?”
“It’s an apartment upstairs.”
I look at the ceiling. “Really?”
“Latson’s a buddy of mine,” Pete says. “We work together.”
“Why is he having a party?”
“For the hell of it.”
Good reason. “Well, if anyone needs to party, it’s this girl.” I point to myself. “Sounds like fun.”
Juliana bounces on her toes. “Did I tell you how glad I am you’re here?”
“I think more than once,” Pete says and starts to push her out the door. “See you when the sun shines, Little J.”
“Stop it!” I huff.
He laughs as they disappear down the hallway.
~~~~
“Baby girl. You gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.” I rub my eyes. “Yesterday was a mess.”
It’s eleven a.m. Chicago time which means it’s noon back home. My cell was screaming from the nightstand before I blindly answered and was greeted by my frantic father.
“I saw the fire on the news. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Like I said, I wasn’t there.”
He pauses. “How’s your place?”
“Ruined. Everything is soaked from the sprinkler system.”
“Did you call your insurance agent?”
“Not yet.”
I stretch my free arm over my head and my legs in the opposite direction. My dad starts to ramble about buying new furniture, and I turn my attention toward the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. I wonder how warm it will be today.
“Jen?”
“What?”
“Are you listening to me?”
No. “Yes.”
“What did I just say?”
“Umm.” I bite my thumbnail.
He sighs. “So what made you decide to drive to Pete’s?”
“He called at the right time and got on my case about not visiting.”
“Ah,” he says. Through the phone, I hear a door close and assume he’s stepped outside. “I’m surprised you went. Did work give you some time off because of the fire?”
I close my eyes. “No. Jay’s is closing, Dad. I’m out of a job.”
“What?”
“My boss needs to spend time with her sick husband. She sold the restaurant.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.” I roll over on my side. “I guess it’s time to figure shit out.”
“Jennifer Marie!”
“What?”
He chuckles. “You definitely have some shit to figure out.”
“Right?” I pick at some fuzz on the comforter.
“Honey, listen,” his voice softens. “You deserve a break. You’ve put in hundreds of hours at Jay’s and you’re always on your feet. You’re one of the hardest working people I know. Take some time to regroup and focus on you.”
“I feel like I should be job hunting.”
“Are you going to go bankrupt in the next few weeks?”
“Probably not.”
“Then, there you go. What do the kids say nowadays? You need to ‘do you’.”
I laugh. My dad is a high school English instructor and he tries to stay up on current slang.
My mom calls for my dad in the background. “Hold on,” he says. His voice is muffled as he tells her I’m fine and with Pete. He returns to our conversation. “All right, baby girl. Your mom and I need to run errands. Promise me you’ll keep us in the loop and tell us when you’re headed home.”
“I will. I may need your help with the insurance claim anyway.”
“Okay. Try to relax and have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.”
We say I love you and goodbye, and I toss my phone aside. I flop back against the pillow. Maybe my dad is right. The time has come to ‘do me’. It seems like I’ve been on the same path forever, caught in an endless cycle, unable to switch direction. I tend bar and fail at relationships. That’s my life.
Pushing my hair off my forehead, I look around the bedroom, my eyes landing on my guitar. I can definitely spend more time working on my music while I’m here. That qualifies as ‘doing me’. Glancing around again, I notice the sunlight a second time and make a mental note to get more vitamin D, too. Then, I snuggle into the blankets and figure a few naps might be in order. Slowly, a smile creeps across my face.
I can do whatever the hell I want.
My mind begins to swirl with possibilities. I can’t remember when I’ve had this much free time. I can do whatever I feel like without worrying about a guy or a schedule. Despite all that has happened, it feels good. So good, I think I’ll make it my rule.
My cardinal rule.
Starting today, Jen will only do what makes her happy.
Deciding coffee will bring me joy, I throw back the covers. Yawning, I make my way to the kitchen to peruse the countertop. I find a Keurig instead of a traditional coffee pot. Score, I think as I open the drawer beneath it and find the K-Cups. After I pop a Green Mountain Vanilla Crème into the machine, I search for a mug and come across a white board hanging on the refrigerator. There’s a note from Pete:
If you want to eat, we need food. At the store.
Knowing my brother, he’ll bring back nothing but vegetables and protein. Coupled with Juliana’s gym comment, I realize staying here won’t hurt my waistline.
When my coffee is done, I head outside to enjoy it. Sitting in one of the two chairs on my brother’s small balcony, I take in the sights and sounds of the city below. Pete lives on the eastern edge of Lincoln Park, which isn’t too far from Lake Michigan. It’s the complete opposite of home, which is why he loves it. We grew up on a dead-end, dirt road with very few neighbors. Here, there are people everywhere. Most walk, some ride bikes. It looks like they are all wearing ear buds because I can see the cords. Car horns and a siren sound in the distance, and I mentally add exploring to my list of happy things to do with my free time. I like this atmosphere. It feels charged, but in a good way. Like everyone has somewhere important to go and something important to do.
I’d like to be one of those people.
After my coffee disappears, I head to the shower. I take my time soaping and shaving, and when the water runs cold, I pull back the curtain to grab a towel. Without the water in my ears I hear a weird thrumming noise. Confused, I make sure the faucet is off and I didn’t screw something up. I mean, I only turned a knob, but the sound appears to be coming through the wall. Satisfied it’s not the pipes, I wrap a towel around myself and crack the bathroom door.
It’s music. My brother must be home.
Drying off, I secure the towel under my arms. I didn’t think to bring my clothes with me; I’m going to have to remember I’m not living alone anymore. In a few steps I reach my room, and it hits me that the music is loud. I mean loud, as if I’m the one who is playing it. It’s obvious that it’s coming from the apartment above this one, not the living room like I thought. The lyrics to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch” ring crystal clear. The song reminds me of when my brothers got busted for playing it at home. My mother wasn’t impressed by the use of the word fuck despite the catchy guitar riffs.
Since Pete’s not here, I drop the towel and find my underwear, unable to stop my body from swaying to the music. Once the girls are secure, I turn around to find some clothes. It feels good to dance, so I roll my hips as I bend over to dig through my suitcase. When the chorus of the song plays, I stop searching to pull my hair off my neck and hold it on top of my head. I grind down to the floor and back up again. Then, I resume my seductive search by leaning over the bed and shaking my ass.
