“I just lost my home. And all my possessions, except for what’s in this bag.”
“You’re—what?” My stomach dropped, and she gave me a thin smile, gesturing to the building around us.
“That’s why I’m here. Remember when I told you I lived in a small place? Yeah… think smaller. Laundry closet, illegally retrofitted into a living space. Housing authorities just came around and found the place, and the landlord changed the locks and ghosted me because he’s trying to argue I was a squatter. All my things got locked inside. He’s probably thrown them out somewhere, but on the off chance they are still inside, I’m trying to getsomeoneto hear me out long enough to open the doors and let me get my things.” She shook her head. “Even the stupid fucking tailored suit I’m still in debt for. The debt works in my favor, because now I have a witness who’s invested in it, and since the suit itself is his collateral, there’s an actual professionalinvolved in trying to get this thing back, instead of a homeless bum.”
Jesus Christ, no wonder she’d always looked like she was about to cry when I asked her if she was okay. Of course she wasn’t. And she never said she was, just thathe wasn’t going to hurt her.
Shit.
“Where are you staying right now?” I said shakily, and she laughed thickly.
“I spent the night in a music studio where they let me in after hours, but I can’t sleep in there or they’ll kick me out if they find me. So I didn’t really sleep last night. And I don’t know if I will tonight. That’s why I was hoping to get this court stuff done today, see you after the mixer, tell you all this, tell you I’m sorry, tell you goodbye, and then leave.”
“Cassandra—no—Julie—you aren’t going to get New York court authorities to respond to something on the day of.”
“Yeah, I’m realizing that,” she groaned, looking down. “But I can probably at least… start the case… and if anything comes of the search for the suit, Daniel—the tailor—will get his collateral, and that can at least take a bit off my debt. So I’m starting the case. I don’t fucking know. It’s not like sticking around is an option, look at me. I’m not cut out for sleeping rough.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with an angry sigh. “It’s not… you’re not… you are not sleeping rough,” I said. “You can stay at my apartment. Why did you notsayanything last night instead of going and… sitting in a fucking… music studio overnight?”
She looked vaguely sick. “Jesus, Helena, I’m not—I can’t just crash your apartment after I’ve just told you how I’m a fucking loser who’s been lying to you—”
“Just because I’m pissed off with you doesn’t mean I’m going to turn a blind eye to you when you’re on thestreet,Julie,” I said thickly. “Do I look like that kind of person?”
She cried. Straight-up—she’d been crying a little, tears in her eyes, trying to hold them back, but when I said that, she broke, fully crying, burying her face in her hands, sobbing in a way I could tell was about a lot more than just an offer to stay on my couch.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in between sobs. “I think it’s best if I just… go. I’ve made things bad enough. Maybe there’s not even any good reason to continue with the stupid court process. Maybe I’ll just book my flight now. Or a Greyhound and work on getting my way out to Missouri, if I can’t afford a flight, hope Daniel doesn’t come chasing me down for the debt.”
I massaged my temples. “If you won’t stay in my apartment, at least let me cover a hotel stay for you.”
“In New York? Last minute?” She laughed thickly. “You might as well just put the money towards my debt to Daniel instead, that would help me sleep better than any bed would.”
“How much do you owe?”
“Forty-three hundred.”
“Fine. I’ll cover it and a hotel stay.”
She choked, looking up at me with wild eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re just going to drop—”
“That’s really nothing. I’ll bill it to the company as career consulting and expansion. You’ve helped me a lot more than an actual professional would, and that’s less than what they’d have charged.”
She stared slack-jawed. “You’re not… you’re not serious, are you?”
“Julie, look me in the eye and tell me I’m not serious,” I said. “Send me an invoice for consulting expenses. Sixty-fivehundred. Nobody will bat an eyelid, you can pay your debt, and you can get a hotel.”
She stared at me another while longer before she wiped her eyes, and in a shaky voice, she said, “Is this… so you can wash your hands of me?”
I sighed, looking away. I felt sick and small and stupid, and I just wanted to crumple up and stop moving. I was going to blow it at the stupid mixer tonight. But I didn’t really care right now. “You know I really liked you,” I said coolly. “Or at least, the person I thought you were. I don’t like being lied to.”
“God,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. Even while you’re pissed off at me, you still want to help. I’m really lucky that I got to know you.”
Every nice thing she said made it worse. I swallowed the ugly feelings in my throat, and I shook my head. “Just… just give me the invoice. And promise you’re not going to sleep on the street tonight.”
“I wish I could afford to be the bigger person and turn down your help, but I don’t know how I’ll live without it.” She dragged in a shaky breath, standing a little taller. “Are you… are you going to keep working with Krysten? You really do have a talent for connecting with anybody.”
By myself? I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted to quit working with Jewel, quit modeling, quit everything. I didn’t have any interest in showing up to that mixer without Cassandra—fuck—withoutJulieby my side, without going over it together with her at the end, seeing her eyes gleam as she strategized which route to take. Was that real? Or just another thing she put on for her stupid fuckinglife coach?
This was that Kingmaker asshole’s fault. Didn’t she describe him as a sleazy white guy with braids and a durag? I was going to kill him.
