“It’s nice to see you made time for your mother,” Mike snaps from behind the reception desk.
Fuck.
The last thing I need is for this asshole to see me crying. He’d probably get off on that.
Quickly wiping my eyes, I stand taller, which doesn’t do anything since Mike towers over me. I hope he never speaks to the residents because he’s obviously not a people person.
“Yeah, well, I’m in between shifts, but I wanted to come by to pay my mom’s rent.”
Mike motions for me to follow him into his office, so I have to practically jog to keep up with him. It’s awesome for my already sore feet. When he rounds his desk and sits down, I dig into my purse and pull out all the money I have to my name. “Here’s the five thousand for her rent, and then seven hundred additional for the late days.”
I don’t need any extras for the next few weeks. And groceries, who needs them? Obviously not me, since I can’t afford them this week. Thank goodness I make tips every shift, so I always have some sort of cash flow. But I also have to start saving for next month’s rent. Mine and my mom’s. It’s a never-ending vicious cycle.
“And what about the three months’ owing balance? You’re accruing one hundred dollars a day on that, too, so it would be in your best interest to pay it quickly.”
What?
No. No.
No.
That wasn’t what we discussed.
Right?
The one-hundred-dollar-a-day late fee he added was only supposed to be for this month. It will take me forever to come up with fifteen thousand dollars for her back-dated rent.
Shaking my head, I swallow, my heart suddenly pounding. “I can’t afford that.”
He shrugs and eyes me in a way that makes my skin prickle. “From the looks of your little get-up here, you’ll be earning it in no time.”
This motherfucker.
This is my mom’s home. I don’t want to take care of her.
That reminder makes me clench my jaw and force a smile. “I’m a bartender, and I do have to get going to my next shift. Is there anything you can do about that late fee? I’m trying, Mike. All of this landed in my lap when I got the call from you.”
Until that phone call, I had no idea whether my mom was dead or alive. I also didn’t care. The woman tried to give my virginity to her drug dealer to pay off her debt. I was only sixteen at the time.
“Sorry, Quinn. Like I said the other day, you’re welcome to take your mother home with you if you’d prefer.” He turns his attention back to his computer. “Close my door on the way out.”
Even if I wanted to say something else, there’s no way I’d be able to without sobbing, so I turn and leave, ignoring his door completely.
That will show him.
Fuck.
No, it won’t.
It will only make things worse.
Stopping mid-step, I reach back, grab the knob, and pull it closed, hating myself for being such a fucking pushover.
By the time I get into a car to head to Luxe for my evening shift, my face is a mess, and one of my lashes is almost falling off. Thank goodness I carry my entire makeup bag with me when I’m working, since I usually need to touch it up between my shifts.
Using a cotton swab, I dab my eyes and clean myself up, then start reapplying as best as I can while the driver speeds through traffic like he’s trying to win a race or something. At least he leaves me in silence to stew over the last hour of my life while I swipe on my favorite red lipstick that’s calledPetty Is My Favorite Color. I think I love the name of it as much as the actual shade. Maybe I need to learn to be pettier. Show Mike what itfeels like. He already hates me, so it’s not like it would change anything.
As we arrive in front of Luxe, I zip my bag up and give the driver a bright smile. “Thanks! Have a great night!”
