Page 48 of Liquids

He shakes his head. I’m going to have to check, and Luis might not do anything repair-wise, but he can’t exactly lie about rent payments. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I normally give him cash in hand when he turns up.

I run my tongue over my teeth. “Rig promised me some money. Let me check with him and I’ll get back to you,” I lie. I’d never take rent money from Rig or anyone else. I may be bottom of the heap, but I’ve got more self-respect than that. And in my experience money always comes with strings attached. I’ve always stood on my own two feet, no matter how bad it is.

His eyes narrow on me for a brief second, then he nods. “You got a week,” he says.

When I close the door and lean on it, I’m absolutely sure he wouldn’t have given me a week if he wasn’t low-key terrified of Rig. How fucking sexist is that? But that’s the currency guys like Luis understand. Brit would have probably flexed her muscles at him and told him to fuck off.

I’m always careful to have my rent money. Never mind a mob turning up and torching the place, I could lose my home for a completely different reason. Christ, that would be the final straw. How did I lose track of my rent like that?

Two nights later, I’m chewing over how the hell I’m going to find some extra cash to cover my rent when Rig slides into the booth in Callahan’s, and my eyes drink in his forever-wide shoulders and crazy mop of hair. I’d almost forgotten we’d agreed to be friends, whatever that means. Whatever. I’m just mad at myself now. I can dress my problems up any way I want, bury my head in the sand and drink, but if I don’t find a way of making some money, I’m actually going to be evicted. And I can’t tell Rig about this, goddammit, because he’d offer to pay.

Rig smiles at me and I glance down at his forearms. The way he pinned me, wrapped around me in bed …

“How you doing, babe?” he rumbles, and goddammit why does he have to sound so sexy? But hey, this is a chat in a bar. Friends, Carly. I can be a grown-up. I box the worry up and stick it on a high shelf.

“I’m okay, Rig. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Marco’s on my case every day to fight for him again. I was sleeping in a sweet pad with this gorgeous woman, but she’s thrown me out.” He winks at me.

A gorgeous woman? I roll my eyes at him. “Stop being charming.”

He spreads his hands. “That’s me.”

“Never in my life have I heard such a load of garbage.”

He chuckles.

“Where are you living?” I say with a sly smile.

“My mom’s farm. She’s bustin’ my ass, but I’m out of here the day after tomorrow. You wanna see the house I’m going to buy when I get the funds together?”

My eyebrows slowly rise to my hairline. He’s not shacked up with another woman? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about Sadie, but I squash it back down. He’s upbeat, almost cheery. I suspect the farm is a significant step-up from my place. It couldn’t be worse. Sweet pad, indeed. And Sadie told me he had plenty of money. Maybe not enough to buy a house, though.

“I’d love to.”

He flicks through his phone, then turns it around, and there’s a picture of an old wooden house on a tired old lot with a chain-link fence.

“I’m detecting a bit of a theme here with the kinds of places you like to live.”

He shakes his head at me. “Quit bustin’ my chops. Look.”

He shows me the rest of the photos, and it’s right on the beach, waves lapping along a perfect shoreline.

“I wanna knock it down and build a cute little house; not too big, not too small. Coupla bedrooms. Out surfing every day.”

My heart aches with how amazing that sounds. I was so desperate to get out of here when I was a kid. I don’t know what possessed me to come back. After Mark did what he did and I had Charlie cremated, I got in my car and drove. I decided I was going to go to Nashville, anywhere to escape the memories. Then I saw the sign on the highway and thought I’d come off the road and see whether the place was as bad as I remembered. I was tired and hungry, so I pulled into Logan’s for a burger and got chatting to the waitress. She was grumbling about a shortage of nurses at the local hospital, and how it was affecting her dad. It seemed like serendipity. Then I found out that Marni was still here. And whenever I’ve thought about why I came back here and stayed, I’ve wondered whether it’s the kind of thing you do when you’re lost and looking for somewhere to lick your wounds.

Rig’s muscular arms are still flicking through pictures. It’s not like he’s showing me this because I’m ever going to live there with him or anything, but Christ, just the idea of getting out of here makes something wild start up in my chest. I try and tamp it down. I’m not leaving. I’ve got Marni, a bunch of little old ladies to look after, and what’s buried in the cemetery here. I owe Charlie that at least.

“It looks amazing, Rig.”

“About halfway there, money-wise.” He taps the screen. “This one’s up for sale now, so that’s a bummer. It’s a terrific opportunity, but I just don’t have the cash yet.” I study his rough face and battered hands. What would it be like to have a plan to escape? Something driving you on? Rig’s right: I need a dream, something to hold on to when life gets shit. When you’re two months behind on your rent. I just don’t know what that would be. My dream was Charlie. It still is, really. What do you hold on to when your dream becomes impossible?

“Could you borrow some money?” I say. Could I do that? I want to snort at myself. I’m already in debt up to my eyeballs.

He sucks his teeth. “Don’t like that, babe. If you could see the mess the farm’s in on account of that mortgage. Have to rule it with an iron fist to make a cent out of it. Getting into debt’s a sucker’s game.”

Tell me about it, I don’t say. And I’m sure the farm is far worse than my debts, scarily worse.