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He opens his mouth, but I don’t stay to hear what he has to say. I turn and walk off, ignoring him as he calls to me.
This is my first day back in Chicago, and the last thing I need is a distraction.
Especially one that looks like him.
Three Weeks Later
Thirteen floors in this apartment building, and of course they chose to live at the top.
I say they, but I guess I mean we, considering I live with them now. And by them, I’m referring to my two best friends, the closest thing to family I have: Erin and Johnny aka JJ.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m grateful they took my broke ass in.
I can’t call Erin and JJ childhood friends, because even though they grew up in Pocahontas with me, I didn’t meet them until I was much older. Eighteen to be exact. But we’ve been inseparable ever since.
Two years ago they both took jobs in Chicago, and I took one in St. Louis.
Three weeks ago, I lost that job. And it wasn’t just any job; it was my dream job in event planning. Turns out my boss’s wife had been using the company to launder money. Once that came to light, Just Say When Events went belly up, along with my income. So when Erin and JJ invited me to move in with them, it was a no-brainer.
At least that’s the story I tell everyone. The real one is much more complicated, and I don’t like to talk about it. It’s all centered on that damn tattered letter.
Anyway, here I am, living just north of downtown Chicago in a massive condo—which takes up the entire thirteenth floor of the building—that I most certainly cannot afford.
Not now anyway.
And that’s exactly why I’ve spent the day searching the internet for jobs and running around the city, picking up applications.
Despite Erin and JJ’s constant reminders that they don’t need my money and their encouragement that I wait for the right job to come along, I just can’t do it. I need to make money. I need to pay my own way and carve out my own path in this crazy-ass life—a life I’m no closer to figuring out now than I was the day I moved here.
Last week I was hired on part time at Josalyn Allen Events—a place that definitely has potential—but she only has me working twenty hours a week. That’s not enough to pay the bills, so I’m looking for something else too.
The tiny voice in the back of my head chimes in, reminding me of the untouched bank account in my name—the one that probably comes from the life I don’t remember, the one with a number two followed by way too many zeros. It would be easy to tap into those funds, but I refuse.
“Honey, I’m home,” I sing, pushing through the door. Tucking the stack of applications under my arm, I shut it behind me, making sure the deadbolt is securely in place.
“You do realize no one can get to us, right?” JJ says, taking the papers before they can slip out from under my arm. “I thought I explained how this works.”
Rolling my eyes, I brush past him, giving him a hip bump in the process. “Yes, I know. The thirteenth floor is key-card access only from the elevator and the stairs; therefore, the only people who can get up here are the three of us and whomever we personally buzz up, yadda, yadda, yadda.”
“This place is nothing like the apartment complex you came from,” he says, following me into the kitchen.
“I know, but it’s still Chicago.” And whether I’m on the first floor or the thirteenth floor, I will lock and double lock every door and window. Daddy used to say, “Just when you think you’re safe, you’re not,” and that’s always stuck with me.
JJ drops my papers on the kitchen counter. “More job applications? I thought you took that job for the event company.”
“I did, but it’s only part time, and I need to make more.” The stack of applications taunts me. “So I have to improvise.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Probably not.” Swiping the applications off the table, I toss the first one to JJ. “This one is for a bartender at Club 23.”
He frowns. “I don’t want you working in a club.”
“Yes, well, it’s not your choice. You’re my friend. You should support me.”
It’s not that I want to go back to bartending, but it’s what I know. I bartended my way through college. It comes easy to me, and it’s a way to bring home cash in hand.
“I will,” he confirms, softly adding, “financially.”
