Walking closer to where he’s leaning back, I bend so my mouth is next to his ear. “I’d rather live in a cardboard box with roaches than touch you, Chase.” Standing to my full height, I walk to my room.
“Fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
Once the door is locked, I drop my bag to the carpet and pull my jacket off, tossing it on my bed.
Fuck, I can’t wait to move. I want nothing more than to take a steaming hot shower, but I’ll wait until later when Chase is passed out or in his room.
Tonight’s one of the nights where I miss Mom the most. Yeah, it sucked seeing the life drain from her due to the cancer, but at least we were together. I knew her time was ending before it did. Knowing didn’t hurt less, but it still helped prepare me mentally. We knew for years it was going to be slow and painful, but I miss her more every day. If she saw me now, she’d be disappointed. I promised her I would make a good life for myself, but here I am—way worse off. I’m a bartender at a hole-in-the-wall biker bar in a shitty-ass town with no plan for my future. But right now, I have to worry about coming up with afew hundred dollars by tomorrow, or Chase might actually toss all my shit outside.
I strip off my clothes and pull on a loose shirt before throwing myself down on the bed. It’s almost four, and I’m exhausted. The long shift I worked was rough, one I only worked because I was certain I’d have enough for rent. I made a decent amount, but nowhere near enough.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift off, not ready for what tomorrow might bring.
3
BRIELLE
My hands shakeas I count my money again, realizing I am, indeed, short on rent. I’ve counted the stack of money I had hidden under my bed five times now. The tips were pouring in last night, and I could’ve sworn I had more saved than what I’m counting, but I have been exhausted and could’ve miscounted.
I run my hands through my hair, sitting on the edge of the bed. I have no way to get more cash, and if I don’t have it before I go to work tonight, Chase is going to throw a goddamn fit.
If I didn’t want to inconvenience Bexley, I would’ve stayed on her couch like she offered, but I can’t do that to her—not when she has a little boy at home. Bexley has been amazing since I met her, but that’s their safe place. I don’t want to risk our friendship, and Kristie lives in a tiny studio apartment on the other side of town.
As much as I know it’s pointless, I decide to go down to the bank and see if they’re able to unfreeze my mom’s bank account that holds her savings. She left all she had to me in her will, and it might not be much, but it would save my ass right now.
It takes me about twenty minutes to drive there, and as I wait in line, I can’t help but think of my mom and the last time we were here. I had just given her all the money I made at work tohelp pay rent and to cover her next prescription. The state only helps so much, but it was never enough to cover all she needed—copays from her appointments and the endless tests.
It was all too much.
“Ma’am? I can help you if you are ready?” the lady behind the glass calls, snapping me out of my thoughts. I step forward, and the closer I get, the more she recognizes me, and the pity begins swimming in her eyes.
“Has there been any updates, Dorathea?” I ask, but the look on her face tells me this is nothing but a waste of time.
“I’m sorry, Brielle, but the bank froze her accounts. Any of the money she had left is now part of the estate. Once probate is complete and the creditors make their claims, you’ll be notified of what’s left,” she says, folding her hands on her desk. “There’s nothing I can do. This process takes time.” I only stare at her as the anger of the situation rises inside me.
“How the fuck does that work?” I ask, my voice rising enough to gain attention from others lingering around, but I don’t give a shit. “This is fucking bullshit. You know that, right?” I know it’s not her fault, but I don’t care anymore.
“Brielle, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you don’t stop yelling,” Dorathea says, her words final.
The security guard steps closer when I don’t immediately move.
“Fuck you, Dorathea. I hope this place burns to the ground,” I grind out before storming to the door, throwing it open and leaving.
My car door slams shut as I get in, and the sound cracks something open in me. A scream rips through my chest, bouncing off the windshield.
My fists come down on the steering wheel repeatedly until my chest is heaving and my hands throb. I suck in air, and it doesn’t feel like it’s doing a damn thing. My vision blurs,and I blink hard, trying to clear it up because crying won’t fix anything.
I drag in a shaky breath and stare straight ahead. I’ll figure it out. I have to.
I’ve spentthe last few hours walking around downtown aimlessly. Silence fills me as I wait for time to pass before I have to be at the bar, and I can’t go back to the apartment for obvious reasons.
The sun is already gone, and the smell of rain lingers in the air, promising another wet night. Thankfully, my jacket’s dry, and it’s not nearly as cold as it was yesterday. My feet ache from walking, but I don’t stop—not until I need something to wake me up. As I cross the street, I see a small coffee shop on the corner of Link Street.
Pulling the door open, I’m hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and my shoulders loosen as I get in line. Only two people are ahead of me, placing their orders with the barista, and the line disappears fast. At this hour, an open coffee shop feels like a small mercy.
“Hello. What can I get for you?” the barista asks from behind the counter, a smile on her face. She seems happy and carefree. It makes me feel even more annoyed as I order a large iced caramel macchiato.
Should I spend money on coffee? No, but if I don’t get some kind of caffeine in me, I won’t last long enough to get through tonight.
