Because I picked door number one, they’re covering my bar tab. Booyah.
“What about bounty hunting?” For the last hour, Sam has tried to convince me to stay in the New York area, but my mind is made up.
“Due to you-know-who, Hyrum only sends me cream puffs. The money I make barely pays for the gas to find the skips and bring them to jail.” Taking a gulp of ale, I pull a chip out of the pile of cheesy nachos and bite the gooey goodness.
“How about your piloting? You said you finally collected steady clients.” Only a best friend would point out the one good reason to stay but I’ve done my homework.
“Pilots are burning out making more jobs available. I even found a small airline in Arizona who wants to interview me as a flight instructor.”
Tapping my fingers on the tabletop, I try not to look at my missing ring and order another round. After the third or maybe the sixth IPA, tears flow down my cheeks.
“Sorry you guys, I’m shitty company. I should go home.” Standing, I scoot out, but before I can duck away, Sam cups my cheeks and catches my eye.
“Call. Him.” She’s trying to be nice, but she simply doesn’t understand.
“What’s the point? He’s been gone for two weeks and hasn’t bothered to send for his stuff.”
Rose, the gorgeous olive-skinned woman on her right jumps up. “Don’t you understand? That’s a positive sign. Your handsome Brit left his shit so he can come back for it.”
My head shakes back and forth. “Dashiell is in London. Apparently, Mr. Montclair doesn’t want to be on the same continent as me.”
In the past few weeks, I’ve cried myself dry, but apparently, because I’m replenishing my fluids, there’s more.
“Know what’s worsh? worser?” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “I got a direct deposit for my share of the bounty. Then, I found out, the reward hasn’t been ish… shoe… issued, yet. Mish-Mister fancy-pants paid me virtually so he wouldn’t be forced to sh-see me.”
A loud burp erupts from deep in my stomach. “Excushe me.”
The women crowd around me. “Hun, he’s aware of your financial straits. The man obviously cares about you a great deal.”
“No, no, no. It’s another sign he doesn’t think I can take care of myself.” The room spins so I change my mind about leaving and sit back down.
Much later, they drive me home and tuck me into bed. In the morning, disoriented, I wonder why I set my alarm and when it hits me, my heart races.
Oh shit, my flight south is today. Oh my God, if I call an Uber right now, I may make it on time. My mom and sister will never forgive me if I bail. Worse, they’ll insist on coming to here and my apartment is a mess.
On the flight down, I note something else I missed on my calendar and groan. Calling my therapist from the plane, I try to cancel the meeting. Because of some bullshit twenty-four-hour policy, she insists I not hang up.
“I can’t possibly do this here.” Opening my purse, I search for a headset which includes a mic.
“Why not?”Damn her persistency.
Glancing around, I whisper to the screen. “Umm… The flight is completely full. I’m surrounded by passengers, including a nun and a priest.”
My doc has a twinkly, somewhat-annoying laugh. “Well, try not to say cocksucker, fuckerhead, or any of the other colorful ways you refer to the love of your life. Regardless, I need to charge you, so you might as well keep talking.”
Plugging the cord in the side of my cell, I give in. “Okay, you win, and life still sucks.”
In my mind’s eye, I picture her smug smile and how she leans back in her rolling chair. “Did you do what we talked about?”
“I, ah… Didn’t find the time.” God, I hate how she remembers every little detail of our last conversation.
“Have you found enough work to pay the rent?”
“Yeah, I found two shoplifters who skipped bail. I also piloted four elderly Canadians on a tour of Manhattan.” I don’t mention how Hyrum’s in Israel, so I can’t get paid and the sweet, lovely octogenarians’ check bounced.
“You’ve been busy.”
Knowing what’s coming next, I answer her next question without her asking. “And, I went out with my friends last night.”
