I filled him in on everything that had happened the day before.
“Why the fuck didn’t you sleep in the house?” he shouted. “You’ve got no idea what sort of creeps are out there.”
“And you’ve got no idea what sort of monsters used to run that place,” I snapped.
“Fair point. But seriously, Ry, sort something today. Don’t make me transfer my hard-earned house deposit into your account.”
I inhaled sharply, my cheeks burning. “Don’t you dare.”
“I will,” he said in that bossy tone he normally saved for when it was my round.
“Fine. What about the cat?”
“What about the cat? It spends half its life licking its own ass. Don’t worry about the cat,” and he hung up.
Why did I have to tell Rick I’d slept in my car? Thinking before I spoke wasn’t my strong point, but I was starting to see its benefits.
I got changed into light-blue skinny jeans, tan knee-high boots and a white cotton shirt that I tucked into my belt buckle. Technically I was homeless, but that didn’t mean I had to look it. I scowled at the cat as I brushed my teeth outside, rinsing with a bottle of water I’d found rolling around the floor of my car. Life couldn’t sink any lower.
I pencilled a list of goals for the day on the back of yesterday’s servo receipt.
Eat actual food (forgot yesterday entirely)
Find some kind of temporary work and/or a place to stay that doesn’t cost over twenty a night (lol)
Let Rick know I’ve solved everything before he Venmos me
Make a list of people who could have left me the house
Don’t die
I decided to start with the first one because some days I liked to eat my emotions. Today, I just needed calories to outrun them.
I shoved the list into my pocket, gave the cat the finger, and started the engine.
The ginger tom watched me leave like he already knew I’d be back.
Steamy Sips was a cottage-core style café with a long cobbled courtyard on the town’s main street. The exterior walls were painted white, with a mural of flowering cherry blossoms, and the outdoor area was dotted with folding slatted tables and chairs. A bell jingled as I entered, interrupting what I could only describe as a gyrating group of ageing men dancing in a circle toIt’s Raining Men.
