AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I needed responsible. I needed good. I needed stability, and so far, that was about as likely as finding a bra I didn’t want to strip off and light up with a machine gun by the end of my day.
I pulled up to my brother’s apartment. I parked on the street and bent to get Luna out of her carseat, except she’d apparently figured out how to do that herself. She curled her little fingers, hissed, and swiped at me. I barely dodged in time, laughing. “How did you learn to do that?”
“Uncle Grant taught me.” She wiggled her eyebrows like she was the coolest person on the planet. “I’m bodini.”
I grinned. “Houdini. And yes, you are.”
My brother ambled down the steps of his stoop, tickling my sides from behind. I straightened and made an undignified sound, then turned to swing at him. He easily bobbed and weaved my attempts, then play slapped me on the side of the head before pulling me in for a hug.
Before his life went off the rails, Grant was on track to be a mixed martial artist. But one thing led to another, and now we found ourselves here. He wasn’t the buff, athletic older brother I’d grown up knowing. Now he was thin as a rail and gaunt in the cheeks with pink rims around his eyes.
I still trusted him with Luna. Grant was only a danger to himself, and he’d always been fiercely loyal to everyone he loved.
He scooped her up and blew a raspberry in her belly. Luna tried to knee him in the chin, but as was their routine, the two of them broke into a slow-motion fighting sequence, complete with Grant’s exaggerated sound effects.
I watched it all, wishing I could stay and enjoy the time. I knew Luna would make him play monster when they got inside, and it was always fun to see them goof around together. “I gotta get going. Everything is in her—”
“Bag. I know, Chels. Get out of here, and I’ll cross my fingers that your shitty car doesn’t blow up before you make it to your interview.”
“Swear jar!” Luna said, clapping excitedly. Every time Grant swore, he gave Luna a nickel. Unfortunately, he’d taken this as an excuse to swear as much as he wanted around her with the excuse that he was helping her out.
“Here.” I pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my purse and handed it to Grant.
He frowned at it. “You sure?”
“She’s got to eat. You do, too.”
He worked his mouth to the side, then nodded, taking the money. I knew it meant I was probably going to be skipping lunch today, but I also knew the state of my brother’s pantry and fridge.
I got back in my car, then took the sort of deep breath you took just before jumping into a freezing pool. I’d taken all the kinds of jobs I could imagine taking to avoid going there, but I’d reached a point of absolute desperation. I’d coached tennis lessons, waited tables, mixed drinks, and even picked up dog poop. But I was getting less hours across the board, and it was time to try to land the kind of job that wouldn’t require my closet to be packed with more uniforms than personal clothes.I stepped inside Rose Athletic Representatives, or RAR, as I lamely enjoyed calling it. The building practically screamed you do not belong, from the smells to the way the receptionist was dressed.
I cleared my throat and straightened the skirt I’d been thrilled to find on clearance. It fell to just above my knees but was made of a comfortable stretchy material that looked good without feeling constrictive. I was sure everyone here could still tell I was poor, but I didn’t need to focus on that.
It was all completely fine. Nothing to panic about. No reason to mentally run through the procedure for walking like a normal human being again. Straight spine. Pull my head back for good posture, but not so good that I was rocking a double chin. Act like my arms aren’t glued to my sides.
When I was feeling insecure, I always thought back to the way Elsa from Frozen walked once she let her hair down. The lady walk, as I called it. And so, I imagined releasing my not-so-luxurious locks and walked toward the reception desk like I’d just magicked the shit out of the place. Damon Rose never bothered me anyway, or something like that.
No. He just defied the laws of probability and put a baby in me, broken condom and no ovulation be damned.
The woman—a twenty something like me with brown hair—gave me an expectant look. “Do you have an appointment?”
“An interview, actually.”
“With whom?” I hated how her tone said everything she was too professional to say aloud. You’re not getting a job here looking like that. Are you really dumb enough to think you would?
