“You know how it is. Properties like this are hard to come by. Speaking of which, any luck finding yourself a new place? Because the clock’s ticking.”
“Yes, I understand,” I mutter. “And don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten our agreement.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I swallow my resentment. It isn’t Gertie’s fault she wants to help students instead of extending one of her leases to a very pathetic, very poor college graduate who can’t find a job for the life of her.
“Good,” Gertie replies. “Because I think I’ve been quite generous by allowing you to stay until the end of summer.”
“Yes, very generous,” I say through clenched teeth while attempting to maintain my smile. “And like I said, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be out of the house in a few weeks.”
“You sure about that?” Her dark, drawn-on eyebrow arches as she steps closer to me, dropping her voice low as if gifting me with the latest gossip. “ I have a friend who works at the doctor’s office down the street. She said you were still looking for a nursing position, and––”
“Yes, I’m aware of my situation,” I snap but force another smile in hopes of softening my comment. “Thank you for keeping tabs on me, though. You’re really thoughtful.”
“Of course, Mia. You know I look at all of you girls like you’re my own daughters.” She wags her newspaper around, then brings it back to her chest, using it to shield her floral pajamas hidden beneath her floral bathrobe.
Seriously, does the woman not believe in any other print? Hell, even leopard spots would do.
Mix it up, Gertie. You can do it.
“Although, I will say the rest of those girls have found quite the strapping young men, haven’t they?” she continues, her tone dropping another octave.
Colt, Theo, Macklin. Yeah, my friends are all a bunch of peaches and are lucky to have found their soulmates. But discussing my friends’ successful relationships and my nonexistent one with Gertie is the last thing on my to-do list.
I take a step toward the sidewalk, anxious to get the hell out of this conversation as I answer, “Yes, all the guys are really awesome.”
“But you’re not dating anyone?”
My steps falter. “Uh, not really, no.”
“Ya know, I’d offer to set you up with my son,”—she glances over her shoulder at his handiwork—“but he likes strong Christian women and isn’t much of a fan of piercings and tattoos and such, so…”
Her nose scrunches as she takes in my sports bra and spandex shorts. My sleeve of tattoos is on full display, along with a sliver of the thigh piece I had done last year.
Wow.
“I should probably get going, Gertie.”
“Of course, of course,” she replies. “One more thing.”
I pause. “Yes?”
“Rent is due in four days.”
Did she seriously just say this to me? Duh.
It’s not like the due date has changed in the four years I’ve lived here. Sure, I was late on a payment or two, but I’ve always reached out to her with a day she could expect the payment, along with an extra fifty dollars for her patience. But I haven’t been late with my rent payment in almost a year.
“Is that a problem?” she prods.
“Not at all,” I tell her, the last of my restraint slowly slipping. “I’ll be sure to give it to you in four days…when it’s due.”
“Of course, of course.” She waves me off. “Have a good run, dear.”
My hands clench at my sides, and I give her another fake-ass smile. “Thanks.”
I turn on my heel and take another lap around the block, hoping another wave of endorphins will hit since Gertie ruined my last one.
4
MIA
I flip the tequila bottle into the air and catch it behind my back while the Kappa Pi girls cheer in front of me. The clear liquid pours in a steady stream into the little glasses lined up along the bar as I fill up ten shots. Each of them is grabbed in an instant, the girls shooting the liquid while the spotlights hanging from SeaBird’s ceiling flash around them.
The energy’s more charged tonight. Probably because the band on stage is rocking out like their lives depend on it. Just a hunch, but I’d bet twenty bucks someone tipped off their manager that Sammie, my boss, invited her husband to SeaBird tonight. And who is Sammie married to, you might ask? Why, she’s married to Hawthorne, a highly-coveted music executive who happened to sign my uncle and his band to the big leagues nearly a decade ago.
Yeah. Everyone wants the golden ticket Hawthorne can give, but not everyone has the gift. Not everyone has the luck and the talent and the drive to grab hold of their future and make it into what they want.
I get it.
I’m not exactly one to talk.
My future’s been hanging over my head like a bad omen for years, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I received another rejection yesterday. Not surprising. After a sweet admin assistant from Lockwood Medical informed me most Human Resources departments have a habit of Googling potential hires, I realized how unlikely it is I’ll ever land a job in the nursing field.
Stupid Google.
If it didn’t exist, there’s a chance no one could’ve connected my OF account with my other social media platforms after Shorty outed me.
Regardless, I still need money if I want to have a roof over my head. If only I didn’t have such an aversion to a savings account, I might not be in this position.
Stupid, stupid Mia.
I make a mental note to ask Sammie for a few more hours when I catch a glimpse of Henry Buchanan walking through SeaBird’s entrance.
What’s he doing here?
My friends are all attending the Lions’ banquet tonight, and since Buchanan’s the team’s owner, shouldn’t he be there too? Then again, I don’t think it’s supposed to start for another hour or so.
Maybe he’s meeting Scarlett here for drinks?
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even know his schedule.
It’s been a week since he was here last, but the bastard’s still wearing a suit. Pretty sure he lives in those things. Even when he taught at LAU, he always dressed nicely. Part of me wonders if he even owns a T-shirt. But why would he when the guy looks damn near lickable in his suit?
Tearing my attention from the sex on a stick who just walked in, I bite the inside of my cheek and pour another round of shots for the sorority girls littered on the opposite side of the counter.
I really need to get laid soon. Because this? This attraction to a guy I have no desire to actually hook up with is weird. And inappropriate on so many levels. My taste in men has never exactly been healthy, so I shouldn’t be surprised I’m attracted to the cold, calculating business shark already in a relationship.
Good one, Mia. Super classy.
Ignoring the Adonis dressed to the nines, I remind myself I’m very much at work and find another familiar face on the other side of the bartop waiting for me to take his order.
When I recognize him, I grin. “Well, if it isn’t the Tukani Tsunami. Long time no see.”
“Hey, Mia,” Tukani returns. “Yeah, I went home for a few weeks to see some family. You miss me?”