It’s hard to believe I called him selfish a few hours ago.
“So … boyfriend, job, apartment.Is that it?”
He makes it sound so simple, as though my life hasn’t been decimated in the space of a few hours.Like he can make a plan to fix it in no time flat.
“For now.”
He doesn’t miss a beat.“First one’s easy, so no worries there.Second one might be a bit trickier, but I know a guy who owes me a hell of a favor.The third one depends.”
“On?”
“On how much you trust me.”
We end up in a courtyard overlooking the river.I’ve never been in this part of the city before, but I can see why he brought me here.
A young girl who can barely be out of high school is performing with her electric guitar, a growing crowd braving the cold to admire her obvious skill.
“The music college is around the corner,” he explains.“They come to practice, or battle, or have a bit of fun.Best concerts in the city right here.”
I’m captured by the spark in his eyes.I like his energy.He’s relaxed and playful, but also deeply passionate.He flirts, yeah, but he also doesn’t hide how much he cares, and I like that.It’s what draws me to him.
“Did you go here?”
“Couldn’t afford to.I learned as much as I could on my own—library books and ten clumsy fingers.The real shit came from favors and kindness, people like this, who play much better than I ever could, people who gave a poor kid a chance.It wasn’t serious for me back then.Music was just another way to make a few bucks until it became more.Something stable, something that stopped being a long shot and started being a meal ticket, a home for Mum and my brothers.I owe music everything.”
His passion is so tangible that I could reach out and touch it.Hold it between my palms and keep it safe.It reminds me of sitting on Alice’s couch with wine and pizza, talking over a movie, or drinking hot cocoa with my parents while wearing matching dressing gowns.
Something about him reminds me of home.
It’s so rare to find, and in a city like Chance, it’s like discovering lost gold.
We take a seat on a nearby bench.It’s close enough to enjoy the show, but far enough to hear ourselves talk.There’s a coffee cart nearby and a line of people waiting to order.The air smells like spun sugar.
“I’ll be right back,” Lucky says, walking over.
Twenty minutes ago, I would have put getting a new job at the top of my list.It should be; walking out ofThe Observer, knowing I won’t be back, is a wound I can already tell will take forever to heal.Even now, I’m picking at it.
I should have yelled.
I should have thrown her shitty job back in Monica’s face.
I should have found Sterling and done something ridiculous.
But I didn’t.I nodded and packed up and walked out with my tail between my legs.
And then I became homeless.
Sighing, I pull out my phone.Best fix this now.
My landlord answers in a rush.“Yep?”
“Bruno, it’s Mia in 309.I know I’m meant to be out this weekend, but my new place fell through, and I need to know if there’s any chance I could stay a bit longer.”
Something crashes in the background, and he swears.“Wait here, would ya?”And then he’s setting the phone and walking away, grumbling complaints loud enough to hear.
I wait, watching Lucky charm the guy running the cart.I’ve never met anyone so enthusiastically themself before.It’s endearing.
“Okay, what was it you needed?Oh, right.Well, you have the luck of a unicorn because the next guy can’t move in for another month, so if you can pay me up front, you’ve won yourself four more weeks.”
