I step onto the driveway, duffel over my shoulder, Kepler’s tiny face pressed against the bars of his cage.
But I don’t hesitate.
Not once.
I keep walking toward the street where my car is parked. For the first time in my life, I own each step.
And I never look back.
Chapter One
Minerva
I pick through my dwindling supply of snacks and grimace at my options. I don’t regret tearing up my father’s parting gift, but after two weeks of living in my car, I’m dreading another “meal” of V8 and crackers. Once I’m out of these…
“We need a new plan, Kepler,” I say.
Kepler blinks at me from his cage. He’s been getting the zoomies more often after being cooped up for so long, but I don’t dare let him out to free-range, even inside the car. Too many things could go wrong, and if he got hurt or ran away, I’d never forgive myself.
And,a selfish part of me adds,I don’t want to be alone.
I hate that part of me, the part that needs Kepler to be safe for my sake, rather than for his. That kind of thinking reminds me of my mother, and I hate how diminished and greedy it makes me feel. From the tip of his speckled pink nose to the tip of his puffy brown tail, zoomies and all, Kepler is perfect.
Not like me.
A tight, familiar heat presses behind my ribs. I hate how easily their voices still live in my head rent free. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think. It’s hard, with all these competing worries fighting for attention.
“We can’t keep living this way.”I can barely take care of myself, let alone someone else.The thought stings, even though there’s no one around to expect anything from me. “First order of business: find someplace to live that isn’t a parking garage.”
In this regard, I’ve gotten lucky. My godfather owns the Vegas Venom and the associated arena, and while he’d nevergo against my father outright, so far, he’s turned a blind eye to the fact that I’m holed up here. It’s not too bad for a short stay, since the lower levels are cooler than the street, and there are bathrooms located on every other floor. There are no showers, so I’ve been relying on deodorant and body wipes, but at least I don’t have to pee in my empty V8 bottles, so that’s something.
Of course, this isn’t my ideal living arrangement, though Iwouldpee in V8 bottles for the rest of my life rather than marry Luca.
“Actually, scratch that,” I tell Kepler. “The first order of business is getting our hands on some money. Maybe I could get a job as a waitress? Or a stripper? It’s Vegas, after all.”
Pretty sure you have to be coordinated to be a stripper, though. And have curves. I don’t think I’d be any good at it, but the things Iwouldbe good at would require a home address and probably a PhD.
I flop back into my seat with a groan and close my eyes. I don’t mean to drift off, but my brain, which never seems to work the way other people expect it to, has been doing even worse with my steady diet of junk food, tap water, and terrible sleep. I drop into a daze only to be awoken by someone tapping on my car window. I jolt upright and slam my elbow into the car horn. Kepler immediately goes nuts.
“Sorry, uh…” I try to roll down the window, but the car’s off, so I jab the button a few times to no effect. After a few seconds of this, I give up and open the car door so that I can get out.
Julie Giovanetti, my godfather’s wife, is not a tall woman, though her heels give her a few extra inches on me. Her hair, streaked with silver, is cut into an impeccable bob that brushes the shoulders of the white blazer buckled over her navy dress. Unlike my mother, who never leaves the house without a pound of makeup and at least five pieces of jewelry, Julie’s look is elegant and understated.
Next to her, I feel like some sort of dirty animal that crawled out of a dumpster. I angle my body automatically, hiding the mess of me with posture alone. I knew I was a walking disaster already, but now I’m painfully aware of my stringy, filthy hair, my unwashed face, and the general smell of ferret that has permeated everything I own.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s been a while, Aunt Julie. Nice to see you.”
“Minerva Marino? Sweetheart, are youlivingin this rust bucket?” Julie’s eyes sweep from me to the car, taking in the chipped paint, rusted wheel wells, and obvious pile of junk scattered through the back seat, clearly visible to anyone who might happen to walk by.
I force a laugh. “No, just napping. I… was on a road trip.”
Julie’s eyes zip back to me. “Please, dear, don’t insult me. Grab your ferret and let’s go. Now.”
“His name is Kepler,” I say, with all the gusto I can muster. I stood up to my father, so I know Icandefend myself, but Julie isn’t trying to bully me into marrying a man I despise. What am I going to do, crawl back into the car and lock all the doors until she calls a tow truck? I might as well hear her out.
I open the door again to retrieve Kepler. I take him out of his crate long enough to pull his little sensory goggles on and collect my purse before following Julie to the elevators.
Julie doesn’t say much as she leads me into the gleaming glass lobby of the arena. It’s daytime, and there’s no game in progress, so the only other people we pass are employees and players. I keep my head down, keenly aware of my smell, my clothes, my ferret, and my shame. Invisible. That’s always been the safest option, and I must look like a little kid who ran away from home. Worse, I look like someone who doesn’t know how to take care of myself. Whocan’t.
