AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not bothering to deny it, he shrugs. But his tone is serious when he says, “That pendejo doesn’t know what a catch you are.”
“Too true,” I agree with false confidence.
Those doubts I had at the coffee shop are rooted deep, spreading faster than I can stop them; but desirable or not, if it weren’t for my second family here, my days would be a hell of a lot lonelier.
Glancing at the peeling paint, scattered holes in the walls, and stained floors, I turn to my friend. “We’re going to revamp this place. When I get this job, I’ll have plenty of extra money to save for renovations.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve offered, Ricardo refuses to let me consider asking my father for help. And while borrowing money from Dad to make my life more comfortable isn’t an option, if it came to it, I’d expose all my lies for them.
“Chiquita, we love you. But how many times do I have to tell you we don’t need your money?”
I lower my voice. “I just worry about the city butting in again, that’s all.”
A warm hand cups my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Dorthea interrupts, presenting me with a small pink- and white-iced cake with my name piped in squiggly letters across the center.
She places a fork in my hand expectantly. “Just in time for you to have one bite before you go.”
My smile wobbles, heart full to the brim with love for these amazing humans as I spear a piece of birthday cake. It smells just as sweet as it looks and tastes even better.
“Thanks for all of this, both of you.”
“Only the best for our girl.” Ricardo winks. “Now, go give them hell.”
With my heels back on my feet, I say my goodbyes and head straight for the bus stop on the corner of Seaside Avenue. It’s a twenty-minute ride from the harbor to Keerah, which gives me plenty of time to rehearse my tried-and-true interview skills.
The woman from the agency claims Summit Estates is a small residential company, heavily invested in the local community. Which is great for me, because while the pay is attractive, I want to get in front of someone higher up who could invest in the group home and keep it from potentially foreclosing like the other homes and businesses around it.
The bus takes ten minutes longer than usual, and by the time I finally exit, I’m booking it across the walkway for the elegant glass doors of the office building. My heels are rubbing blisters that I’m going to feel for weeks, but with any luck, this job will be worth the pain.
I’m met with turned-up noses when I finally make it inside of the elevator. I wedge myself between a group of men and women with unmistakable pity in their stares as they size up my bargain brand outfit and worn clearance pumps.
“Hot out there, am I right?” I glance around, but when they shift away from me in silence, I grumble, “Tough crowd…”
We climb one floor at a time, and I wiggle my way backward until my spine flattens against the wall.
“Thirty is thriving. Thirty is established.” I rub my forehead where the start of a headache forms. “Thirty, single, and jobless does not define me.”
“Hey, lady,” the man beside me whispers, “I know a good therapist in the building next door if you need one.”
I thank him awkwardly before shutting my eyes and relaxing my head back.
Okay, maybe I’m thirty and in denial.
By the time I stumble into the Summit Estates office, I’m sweating enough to hear my hair frizzing and doing my best to ignore my throbbing feet.
“Miss Vance?” a woman wearing thick-framed glasses barks.
“The one and only.” I trip over my feet as she approaches me, and recover by sweeping an arm down the front of my body.
I wiggle my hands for extra pizazz, but instead of smiling, she says, “You’re late.”
“I’m so sorry. The bus was delayed, and I—” I’m silenced by the grim line forming across her wrinkled mouth.
“Mr. Murphy will see you now.”
“Yes. Great. That’s… Okay, then.”
