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“Hey, Jimmy.”
The echo of his tires rumbling along the highway says he’s driving.
“What’s wrong?”
I thought I’d done a pretty good job of schooling my voice, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I know when something is wrong with him too. “I was wondering if I can crash at your place for a few days.”
“Of course. What’s wrong with your place?”
I pause, wondering if I should make up a story about a rodent problem or extermination. He’ll probably find out anyway. “I’ve been evicted.”
He’s quiet.
Should have gone with extermination. Something that isn’t under my control.
“I’m just heading over to the studio to do a table read, but I’ll be back this evening. Use your key.” There’s elation in his tone. Elation that I’ll squash.
“Thanks,” I croak over the lump in my throat.
“You’ll be there when I get home, right?” He doesn’t phrase the request like an order, knowing I would purposely not be there if he did.
“Yeah, okay.”
Right there is the real reason I tried to find somewhere else to stay. Living with him means Jimmy will know all the ins and outs of my daily life, and he won’t want me to be a permanent fixture in his future once he finds out.
* * *
At seven thirty,the front door of Jimmy’s place opens and shuts. I’ve spent the day lounging around, dipping into his liquor cabinet and calming my frayed nerves with another dose of oxy. Right now, I’m floating on a cloud of contentment, where the shame and anxiety about the position I’m in are like the cloud itself—not tangible enough to really grab a hold of.
I mute the rerun ofThe Bachelorthat I was watching and lock gazes with Jimmy when he enters the room.
“Hey, how’d the table read go?” I ask.
“Good.” He tosses his keys on the coffee table and sits beside me.
He looks like my Jimmy today. A snug T-shirt shows off his broad shoulders. A pair of shorts and flip-flops. The only thing new is the concerned glint in his dark eyes. A new expression of his in the last few years.
“So, why were you evicted?”
Jimmy always cuts right to the heart of things. No need for small talk.
A sigh escapes me. “I was behind on my rent. That’s usually why they evict you, isn’t it?” I shouldn’t snap. There’s no reason to, especially when he’s helping me out by giving me a place to stay. But he consistently acts so holier-than-thou now, which raises my hackles and makes me come out swinging.
“Do you need money?”
“I’ve got money.”
“Why didn’t you pay your rent then?”
I stand from the couch, unable to be near him. “I guess I lost track of when the rent was due, I don’t know.” I stumble over my feet but grip the edge of the couch, hopefully before Jimmy notices. Shit, I might have overdone it today.
“Well, didn’t they give you notice or something, so you can make good on it?”
I shrug. “You know how it is. I must have lost track when I was working in Europe.” I head to the kitchen, sensing his eyes following me. “I have a week to get my stuff before Chris throws it on the street.”
“Chris is your landlord?” Jimmy asks.
I nod, opening the freezer. My hand shifts to the bottle of vodka. Maybe I can sneak a sip without him seeing.
