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I check my phone again, bouncing from foot to foot with nervous energy. No notifications. It’s only a few minutes past the time the landlord was meant to show up, but it doesn’t stop my mind racing with terror and worse, with hope. After all, if he doesn’t take my keys away, I can stay. If he takes pity on me and the tens of thousands of dollars of debt Mariana accrued, then I can stay.
Who am I kidding? Even my wildest hopes don’t think that’s remotely possible. Any minute now, I’m going to be homeless.
Just as I think I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack, a suited figure appears on the street. He’s walking purposefully towards me with the long strides of a man who gets paid too much to sit in an office and has never had to worry about something like eviction in his life. I hate him so much.
“Ms. Romero?” he asks sharply. I nod, swallowing hard. “James Leicester. I’m here on behalf of RMCR.”
“I know,” I say glumly. He flashes me a falsely whitened smile that’s hollow behind the eyes.
“Thank you for being here. You wouldn’t believe the number of clients who refuse to meet me at this stage.”
“No shit,” I mutter under my breath. “What do you need from me?”
He smiles again. “For today, just the keys. We’ll inspect the property later. Lucky for you, Ms. Lewis being the signatory on all the paperwork means that you aren’t personally liable for the outstanding rent.”
“Great,” I say with as much contempt as I can manage. A tiny flash of some real emotion crosses his face. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d feel sorry for him. This can’t be an easy job. But he’s evicting me so think I have the right to be mad with him if I want to be.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says. “But I am going to need your keys.”
Why bother? Bet you’re going to change the locks anyway,I want to say. What I actually do is say nothing and pull the keys out of my pocket to hold out to him. They’re so bare without my keychain, a metal penguin Ben got me as a souvenir at the aquarium one time. At least I don’t have to give that up too.
“Thank you,” he says as he takes them from me, the false niceness back. “Do you have any questions for me at all?”
I shake my head again, clenching my fists so hard that my nails feel like they’re about to break the skin. It’s all that’s stopping me from crying. “No,” I say, trying to sound assured but in reality sounding sad and small. “No, nothing.”
“All righty!” he says and the urge to slap him is almost overwhelming. How dare he be cheerful when I’m having the worst day of my life? “That means I’m all done here. I hope you have a great day.”
I refuse to wish the same back to him, so I just make a vague noise of acknowledgement and turn on my heel to walk away. I have no idea where I’m going but I’m hoping this makes it look like I have a plan, and with my back to him I can cry at last.
My feet take me all the way to Sunrise Avenue before my head clears enough to realize where I am or what I’m doing. Fortunately, this city is so big and weird that no one has looked twice at a woman roaming the streets sobbing her eyes out. They’re all too swept up in their own problems, wrapped up in rainbows of coats and hats, staring into their phones and blasting music or podcasts or phone calls into their ears as they try to block out the endless white noise of trucks and cars and cabs honking and splashing their way through the congestion.
I like the noise. Usually, it’s a pleasant background hum, a reminder that life is happening all around me, but today I let it fill my brain with the static of a city that doesn’t care for my problems. It’s comforting, in a way.
Sunrise Avenue. If I get on the subway from here, it’s only six stops to Ben’s. He’s lucky enough to live on the west side of town where all the billionaires have their houses. His place is small compared to some of the other looming mansions, but it’s bigger than one person needs and I’m pretty sure it’s empty right now. He goes out of town a lot for work to meet with international clients. It just looks like all-expenses-paid vacations to me.
Not that he couldn’t afford it himself.
I shake my head to expel this bitterness. I adore my brother and I can hide at his place without him ever knowing I was there. Just until I sort myself out. Just until I can figure out how much Mariana screwed me over. Hopefully before my savings run out. The self-storage places in this city are damn expensive.
I’ll clean up after myself and everything.
Anyway, it’s the best plan I’ve got, and I know where Ben keeps the spare key. I take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, and grip the handle of my suitcase tightly before marching towards the subway, dragging what’s left of my life behind me.
CHAPTER3
JOEL
“What’s more, you’ve shamed this family so thoroughly that it’s a miracle for you that I’m even going to let you keep the family name, let alone everything else I’ve given you. Look at the state of you! You barely deserve the roof over your head, let alone my name. Are you listening, Joel? I won’t stand for my heir trashing my reputation.”
The volume is enough to make the phone speaker crackle. It’s like he’s in the car with me — I don’t even need it to be on speaker to understand him. And I don’t need to hear it to know what he’s saying. I’ve heard it all before.
“Yeah, you worked hard for it, I know,” I sigh into the phone.
Mistake. My father explodes in my ear, yelling about respect and shame and image. The same old lecture I always get, just at a higher decibel level than usual. I melt into the bed, wishing my sheets would swallow me but settling for staring at the ceiling, trying not to let any of my father’s words bite the way he wants them to.
“You’re a disgrace,” Father spits and I can see the look he’s giving me in my mind’s eye, the flushed cheeks of rage, the deep valleys in his forehead, the pointing finger. “Haven’t we given you everything? You could have anything you want in the whole world and you still flush it away without a thought.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. What else am I meant to say? There isn’t a single thing he wants to hear right now from me.
