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“Because you’ve already done too much. Because I love you so much.” I look at her, desperate for her to understand. “Because I’ve never done anything in my entire life all on my own, and if I go crawling back to you, asking for money, then I never will.”
She looks frustrated. “It’s not like that. We can call it a loan. Pretend I’m a bank—”
“We both know that isn’t fair and it’s not real. A bank wouldn’t loan me money, not even at loan-shark rates. I have no credit.”
She laughs like I’m joking, then frowns. “Wait. Really?”
I don’t bother answering. But it’s true, I have zero credit, mostly because I’ve been working in a cash industry in a city with good public transportation in a rented apartment. No need for credit. “I went into this with Jamila because we’re in the same position, you know? We’re struggling to make it work together. But if we start taking money from you, that just negates all our hard work. It’s like breezing through life on easy mode. Besides, I’ve already taken a ton from you. This whole venture is funded from the money you’ve paid me over the years.”
“Money you earned.” She sighs, stretching her back. “Look, I get it, I really do. And it’s honestly really admirable. But, Keels, nobody does anything on their own. Nobody in the whole world exists in a vacuum. I have Smoke because of my grandfather. He built Smoke because of a rich cousin that went into business with him. This whole city is built on chains of friendship and business stretching back, I don’t know, to the freaking stone age. Let your friends help you.”
I don’t say anything for a minute, processing that. I know she’s right, at least to an extent. But there’s a difference between struggling to build something all my own and getting cash thrown into my lap by my rich friend.
“Taking money from you would defeat the purpose. I’m sorry, Ash. I love you, but I can’t.”
She touches my arm. “Offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I know it does.”
“You’ll be okay. No matter what happens, you’ll be fine. You’re smart. And you’ve got great boobs.”
“They are really good,” I say with a dramatic sigh.
She laughs and heads back to work. I watch her go before throwing back my seltzer, worry lodged into my stomach.
But that worry quickly morphs into anger again.
Jamila never should’ve gone to Ash. I explicitly told her not to, but she did it anyway, and forced me to have that awkward conversation. I pull out my phone, my rage getting the better of me, and shoot off a text.
Keely: We gotta talk.
Jamila: Everything okay? You run into Nolan again???
Keely: Worse. Ash.
Jamila: What did she say?
Keely: We’ll talk tomorrow.
I put my phone on Do Not Disturb then shove it into my bag before leaving the bar and heading home.
Chapter12
Keely
Ishow up at the shop bright and early, coffee in my hand. I stand in the front, staring around at the half-built seating, the partially constructed front counter, the skeleton of our business. It’s so close to being something real, but I’ve never felt further from it than right now.
Jams shows up not long later. She breezes in like I never sent her a text last night. “Good morning,” she says sing-song, and sits down on a workbench to survey the back room. “How much of this do you think we can finish on our own before we screw something up?”
I sip my coffee. “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask Ash.”
The surprise on Jamila’s face makes me feel guilty for the harshness of my tone. I should try to approach this rationally, but I’m too hurt to be kind.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this about the text you sent me last night? Honestly, I kind of figured you were just drunk.”
“I wasn’t drunk. I was sitting in Smoke right after Ash came up and offered me money. I was pissed. I’m still pissed.”
Jams’s face shows nothing. “And did you take it?”
