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“Oh, yeah. Did you get a new phone? The number the nurse called from… it wasn’t in my contacts. It was so loud in the background I could barely make out your name when she said it. Took me a minute to realize it was you she was calling about.”
She probably didn’t misunderstand, she probably heardBates, but my first name was enough to get her attention. I slowly chew as I think of what to say. “Yeah, my new job issued me a work cell. I meant to text you from it so you had the number. I just forgot. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Vanessa smiles. “So, what the hell has been going on that made you forget to eat?”
It’s a window of opportunity. I can be honest with her and hope she and Ethan can help me out of the mess with Andrey. If there is anyone who can, it would be Ethan Levine. However, it’s too messy, too risky. It could end up with them hurt, or worse, and pissing Andrey off would mean my father stays in jail. So, as much as it hurts me, I opt to blurt out the first story that comes to mind. “It’s just work. You know I’m only part-time, but they are pushing to make me full-time. Lots of overtime, random hours… It’s been a lot.”
She tosses me a sympathetic look. “Hopefully, they ease up. If they don’t, I really hope you find another job. You’re worth way more than what they are putting you through! I say you make your demands and if they don’t meet them, walk out.”
I force a little laugh and nod. Had I not been bombarded with my dad being arrested and Andrey’s mission, it would have been really nice to have a conversation with my best friend about how lost in life I’ve been feeling. I just go from shitty job to shitty job, without much interest in anything at all. Yet, when my father, my life, and apparentlymy soulhangs in the balance… what I do to pay the bills feels too trivial a topic. Especially when I take into consideration my handsome trust fund just sitting in a bank account. Working only feeds my illusion of independence. My job doesn’t matter and neither does my never-ending soul-searching. Not anymore.
Vanessa and I make small talk as I finish my meal. She mostly talks about her new life with Ethan, and it is so nice to hear. Genuinely, I’m happy for my friend. Never has she deserved anything less than true love and happiness. It took me a while to come around to the idea of her being in love with the man who once kidnapped her. Yet all it takes is one time of being around them to see how much they love one another. I feel it down in my bones that kids aren’t far in their future, though I hold myself back from teasing her about it now.
Finally, the nurse comes back and sees my plate is mostly cleared and, at last, lets me go. She unhooks me from the IV, gives me a water bottle and a pat on the shoulder. Vanessa and I leave the triage and head for the elevators. “I’m taking you home and making sure you havesomethingin your fridge,” she informs me.
“Yes,mom,” I kid and throw my hands up in mock exasperation.
We laugh a little and ride down to the ground level before walking out into the parking garage. I immediately realize just how dark it is outside. Shit. I slyly look at my phone, relieved that Andrey hasn’t yet messaged me. Tucking my phone away, I look back at her as though she would have caught me doing it and asked questions. If she did see me, she looks unbothered. Of course, she is. Why would she care if I check my phone? I hate how anxious everything with Andrey has me feeling. I don’t feel myself. Even though talking to Preston earlier and being around Vanessa now makes me feel better, I feel like I’m acting like who I amsupposedto be rather than just being myself.
However, when she clicks the unlock button on her key fob, the lights on a brand new, dark blue Jaguar flash. My jaw drops. “What the hell is this?” I practically squeal.
“My birthday present from Ethan,” she smirks.
“Tell him my birthday is in a few months, and I want one in pearl,” I joke.
She bumps me with her hip and laughs, “Get your own man!”
“I’m too…” I search for the word.
“Stubborn? Goofy? Picky?”
I toss my head side to side, “Either of those will work as to why I don’t date.”
We climb into the car, and I run my hand over the dash. I’m not a car person. I don’t even know what kind of Jaguar it is, but I know it’s absolutely stunning. “I was the same way,” Vanessa reminds me.
“Ah yes. Maybe I’ll get kidnapped again, but it’ll be by my prince charming this time,” I joke. However, the laughter in my chest dies as soon as I say the words. I don't realize how close I am to dancing with danger until I hear the words from my own mouth. Seducing the new, mysterious boss of a rival gang puts me in grave danger of being kidnapped again. Though I'm relieved Vanessa is amused and not offended by my joke.
Even though it's in my nature to tell people I don't need help, I need her right now. I need to feel like myself, not like I'm just… acting. Is it selfish to want a little normalcy before diving into the deep end of mafia espionage?
We get out of the car and walk up to my apartment. It's an apartment that my maternal grandfather purchased for my mother while she was in college and passed down to me after she died. It's my small respite that keeps me from needing a full-time job. Every other apartment in the building has been updated, leased, or rented, and it is now worth more than four times what my grandfather paid for it. I'm glad he had the foresight to buy it.
I wouldn't have to work if I accepted my father's handouts. I simply try not to think about that aspect of my life. Even things that make life easier, such as money.
“How’s your dad doing?” Vanessa asks as though she can read my mind.
“Not too bad, last I heard,” I murmur. She knows I still talk to him, despite my reservations about his involvement with the Robinson gang. However, I haven't told her about his arrest, and I'm assuming that Andrey, or someone else in the Robinson gang, kept the news from getting out.
“Well, good,” she responds, though she doesn’t sound convinced. I wonder if she knows something or can just tell I am being weird about it. Typically, the sheer mention of my dad sends me into a tirade.
We enter the apartment, and I sigh. This place gives me so much comfort. It still has the original flooring, exposed brick and piping, and large pane windows from backin the 1980s. Perhaps it's a little silly of me, but I've styled it with retro and vintage furniture, attempting to capture the essence of the era with mustard yellows, vibrant purples, and olive greens. What isn't retro is somewhat bohemian, with whimsical curtains for closet doors, mason jars for kitchen storage, and a few celestial art pieces.
“Wow, you’ve cleaned up,” Vanessa comments as we get settled in.
I have. I did a thorough cleaning, hiding or trashing all documents bearing my true name, down to junk mail and old phone bills. It had been done in a manic flurry in the middle of the night. "I somewhattake care of myself, you know," I snarl at her and collapse onto my fabulous yellow couch.It's mostly round, with no arms and tiny, hairpin legs. When I first bought it, Preston helped me carry it up the stairs and told me it looked like an elongated yellow blood cell.
“Somewhatis right,” Vanessa calls from the kitchen. She must have taken a look in the fridge. She walks into my field of vision, her arms crossed like the true maternal figure she is at that moment. “You have a shelf of condiments, a jar of olives, a single box of vegan chicken nuggets with freezer burn on it, and jars of dried beans.”
I shoot a finger gun at her. “I didn’t even know I had those nuggets. Thanks for letting me know.”
