And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t already working her tail off and had room for a third job. There was no room for anything. There were no jobs paying good money because nobody in their right mind, during this recession, was going to leave a good paying job. She was doing all she could do. What more could she do?
Get up and get to work and try to get double the number of deliveries today. That’s what!
And although her heart was heavy; And although she had to start all over again once again; And although she was so emotionally beaten that she didn’t know if she even wanted to exist anymore, she got up, took a long, hot tub bath, got dressed, and headed out. She would deliver to the office workers around Manhattan that ordered breakfast, and hope for bigger tips. Or to the old ladies. Or whomever else ordered food that morning.
The early bird catches the worms, or so her father always said. So she left the apartment, knowing full well she was going to be basically homeless if she didn’t have that rent for next month, and went to catch as many worms as she could trap.
But she was the one who felt as if she was left dangling on the hook.
CHAPTER FIVE
As soon as she parked her bike in front of the apartment building and grabbed the bag of food, a downpour of rain swept across the landscape and caused her to run up to the stoop. She made it under the overhang, but not before getting drenched herself. But before she had to search for the apartment number and ask to be buzzed into the building, a tenant came out, held the door open for her, and she thanked him and hurried inside.
The apartment was on the second floor, so she decided to walk up the stairs. Every step was heavy because her heart was still heavy. It wasn’t just that Kenny left her. That was a long time coming anyway. But the words he said to her. The way he looked at her. The way he sneered at her as if she wasn’t worth a damn to him. And the fact that he wasn’t going to be there to pay his share of the rent just devastated her. How was she going to survive???
After ringing the doorbell, the door was finally opened by a woman who appeared already agitated. And when Jayda attempted to hand her a plastic bag that was wet just as Jayda was, the woman frowned. Jayda could use a smile, but she got a frown instead. The old lady from a week ago, who gave her a cupcake, would have helped a lot in that moment.
But this woman wasn’t the cupcake type. “What do you expect me to do with that?” she asked Jayda.
Jayda was still reaching the bag out to her. “It’s your order, ma’am.”
“Wet like that? Are you serious?”
“It’s in a plastic bag. The food isn’t wet.”
“This is unacceptable.”
“But the food isn’t wet, ma’am.”
The woman took her hand and slapped the food out of Jayda’s hand. The bag fell to the floor and some of the food spilled out. “Now it is,” she said. “Return it to that diner. I am not accepting it!” Then she slammed her door shut.
Just like in that recurring dream she kept having and had again that morning, Jayda felt as if she was falling. And she wanted to scream again. But she instead picked up the spilled food, grabbed the bag, and left.
When she got outside, she tossed the entire bag in the trash bin, got on her motorized e-bike, and took off to her next delivery. The only good thing about that morning was that the rain had completely stopped and she was able to ride without the fear of another downpour.
The only thing bad about that morning, other than the downpour and that delivery, was that just as she was approaching the massive Bainbridge Capital Trust building, orBCTthat was etched on the very top of it, a big black limousine sped past her and drenched her even more. But not with rain water, but with mud water from a big puddle in the street. She stopped her bike, stood up, and was chilled to the bone by the coldness of that muddy water. Not to mention the heartlessness of that driver!
It angered her so much and made her feel so insignificant that when she saw that driver pull up in front of the BCT building, she quickly rode her bike in that direction ready to give whoever was in that limo a piece of her mind.
The limo driver stopped in front of the Bainbridge Capital Trust building and Vincent, the bodyguard seated on the front passenger seat, got out, went to the back passenger door, placed his hand on the door handle and looked around. Seeing nothing suspicious, he opened the back passenger door.
Harrison stepped out, buttoned his suitcoat, and then grabbed his briefcase. He, with Vincent walking lockstep with him, began to head for the building.
But as soon as he saw a young lady on an e-bike ride up yelling at him, he turned to begin walking toward the side of his building: his private entrance. It was his practice to let Vincent or his driver handle any disgruntled New York motorists because there were always some.
“Look what your driver did to me!” she yelled as she stopped her bike and stood up from the seat.
Harrison didn’t bother to stop walking. Which meant Vincent didn’t either.
“Sir?You heard me?Sir?”
When he kept walking, ignoring her, she rode her bike just past him, cutting in front of them and forcing them to stop walking. The limo in question drove up to the threesome in case the boss needed to hop in and get away from that irate-looking woman.
Jayda stood up from her bike again. “I was talking to you,” she said to Harrison.
But Vincent made a move toward her. “Get lost kid before I knock you and that bike out of the way! The boss not interested in any snake oil you’re hawking.”
Jayda frowned. “What oil? Look what his driver did to me,” she said as she looked down at her soaked, muddy clothing.
