I pounded on the door, banging on it in hopes someone would at least come by and open it and I could see if the interior door lock was the same, anything, but no luck. Nothing. Just the night air clinging to the back of my neck, the weight of the world coming down heavier on my shoulders.
∞∞∞
Police didn’t do shit, obviously. Guy at the desk looked annoyed that I’d even brought it up, telling methat’s civil, not criminaland that Housing Court handled that, and when I insisted the landlord was keeping all my belongings, he just shrugged and told me that unless I had proof they were mine, they couldn’t do anything.
My head was spinning as I sat down on the window ledge of a shuttered-down shop not far from the police station, my head in my hands, looking down at the ground, tears prickling my eyes. I’d never known as many people in my entire life as I did now, but I’d never felt so alone—not a single person who could actually help me, nobody I could tellhey my slumlord got caught and I’m on the street now.
Homeless, in debt, and robbed of almost all my belongings. Here was everything I’d ever been afraid of as the worst-case outcome.
And I never got to say goodbye to Harold.
“Fuck,” I cried, burying my face in my hands and sobbing.
Guess I could have told fucking Kingmaker. But like hell I trusted him. Besides, I’d kind of… gotten used to… doing well and proving I was on the up and up.
No. I’d just make it tonight. Tomorrow I’d go to Housing Court, whatever the hell that was, and do… whatever I was supposed to do now. I’d get it solved. Cleared up. Tomorrow. I just had to make it through the night.
Just one night on my own.
I let myself have one more feral, angry scream, muffled into my hands, before, shaky, my head spinning, I stood up.Amber had told me I could use the studio outside operating hours. They’d never let me use the space again if they caught me sleeping in it, but I’d at least have a roof over my head for the night. I stumbled through the streets, suddenly panicked someone was going to jump me off every corner—I walked these streets alone at night all the time, and I was savvy, but I suddenly felt so weak and helpless that I almost cried in relief when I made it in one piece to the studio, using Amber’s key to get inside the building and shut myself inside the recording room, and thank god it was empty and soundproofed, because then I broke down crying loud and ugly on the floor, clutching at my hair in both hands.
I didn’t know how to handle a court case. And how was I supposed to do it while I was living on the street? Maybe I should have just gone back to Missouri. I’d bitched and moaned a lot about this city, but in the end, I’d gotten really fucking lucky with all the things I’d pulled off despite not having a clue what I was doing.
And Helena was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Hell, maybe it was for the best like this. I could tell her the truth about me and then disappear. Liv could probably handle the rest of the event for Jewel. I’d done the legwork of getting people signing on, and she could handle the rest. Krysten had a whole good team of people a whole hell of a lot smarter than me.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the room, telling myself I’d just sit down on the floor with my head against the wall and process my thoughts, but I jerked awake in a panic somewhere around two in the morning, gasping back out of a surreal dream and patting myself down. For a second, there was a wild hope that everything was a dream, that I hadn’t really been kicked out onto the street, but I pulled up my phone and saw the texts with the fucking landlord, and I felt sick all over again. Paced the room, trying to stay awake—I didn’t know if one ofthe staff might have come in overnight, like everyone connected to the place did sometimes, and I didn’t want them to catch me sleeping on the floor—and I restlessly pushed piano keys to keep myself occupied. Then I was looking up what to do with the Housing Court, even though I was desperately tired and my eyes glazed over trying to parse a text that I wasn’t even sure if it was relevant, and furiously, I banged on piano keys in a way that sounded more angry and desperate and sad than they did musical.
I drifted around the room like a lost puppy for the restless hours of the night, and I alternated between playing instruments, writing bitter song lyrics on scraps of paper, pacing the room, and sitting on the floor trying desperately not to fall asleep.
Five was late enough. I still felt horrible, like I’d rolled down a hill face-first, every part of me aching and my brain throbbing with distracted pain in my skull, but I pulled myself together and left the studio room to go start a new fucking day. A day to get my court case figured out. Or to leave this stupid fucking city.
It was almost June. If my asshole landlord hadn’t guilt-tripped me into staying an extra month, I would be leaving soon anyway. I guess everything came full circle in the end.
I stumbled out into the streets as dawn slipped its fingers through the buildings around me, and even though I was so tired that my skull was throbbing, I checked in on the stupid delivery app and got on my stupid moped and consoled myself that at least if I died in a crash then I wouldn’t have to deal with what came next.
But I didn’t die in a crash. Maybe it was the stress that made me alert right now, and I drove just fine as I made early-morning deliveries to some people and late-night deliveries to some people, and by eleven, I had enough pocket change that Icould justify grabbing a day pass at a gym and using the shower there. And buy some new clothes to change into. And find a place to store my old clothes.
Shit, I was homeless. Like legitimately homeless.
My pride broke, and I texted Kingmaker.
JULIE
I need to talk to you about something, can we meet?
He responded much too quickly.
KINGMAKER
I know you do
Meet me at the office
Well, back to the studio. I dragged myself back feeling like all my bones were broken, and I slumped up the stairs to get to Kingmaker’s crappy little office space, where I knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he said, his voice sounding less like the stupid Kingmaker act and more like a frustrated man. I opened the door.
“Hey,” I said, and he looked up from behind his desk.
