Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 6
What a nightmare.
I took the gig because it paid two hundred dollars for a Sunday and this is two hundred dollars that I need. Desperately.
I got the gig through a legit employment agency, the one that I used when I got the job for Aiden Carmichael and they rush-couriered me a uniform. That uniform got my Spidey senses tingling, but I proceeded.
Unfortunately.
At least it’s over and I’ll have two hundred dollars tomorrow.
I put on the trashy outfit and off I went… to a banquet room in a family restaurant an hour-long commute on public transit away. I had put track pants on to cover the offensive-looking clothing, but those track pants went missing when I went to leave so I came home like this.
I figured as a magician’s assistant, I’d be at a wholesome kids’ party. Nope. It was a fiftieth birthday party for a guy with fifty to seventy-five or so of his closest friends, and two thirds were male.
And… it was a disaster.
One of the party guests even got handsy, resulting in the magician I was assisting getting extra obnoxious, not to even defend me, just putting in digs about society and misogyny and being snide about the #MeToo movement as he casually referred to the way my butt cheeks wanted to peek out of the booty shorts I had on.
The outfit resembles something Columbia, the short-haired redhead in the top hat from The Rocky Horror Picture Show would wear. Short and glittery black booty shorts on top of black fishnets, a black and silver tuxedo shirt with cleavage, fingerless long black cocktail gloves, a black bow tie and I’ve got on lots of makeup on my face as per the directions. My dirty-blonde hair is up in a bun at the back of my head and there’s a smallish top hat fascinator hat pinned to my hair. Add that my lipstick is black and I was told to go heavy on the black eyeshadow as well as paint my fingernails black and I look like a nightmare.
The magician was a similarly dressed clown with white clown makeup and black lips, a black clown nose, black fingernails, too - and he wore a very Victorian tuxedo.
The whole thing was strange.
Half the people couldn’t be bothered to watch his magic show and that ticked him off, making him get louder and agitated.
But yet he hugged me goodbye and told me “Good job. I’ll tell them I’d like to use you again. I might have a gig in three weeks in Hartford.”
This left me dumbfounded.
The agency is getting back the uniform tomorrow; I’m not doing this again.
God, it was humiliating.
But, at least it’s over. And besides, humiliation feels like my middle name this month.
I have to figure out what the heck I’m going to do.
To back up about what the past week has been like, it’s been awful, the worst.
It started when I got evicted because I couldn’t pay the rent on time due to getting stiffed by Mr. Bolliano who hasn’t returned my calls the past few days.
I tried to work it out, buy more time, but my brother made life harder by coming home the day after the rent was due and for reasons unknown, kicked in the fire extinguisher window in the lobby of the building. It was caught on security camera, so after the eviction notice got taped to the door with a Post-it adding that if we didn’t leave that day, my brother would face charges for property damage, we packed up quick.
So, homelessness is a daunting prospect, to put it mildly, especially when you’re down to your last seventy-five dollars and don’t even have a car you can sleep in.
I even degraded myself by asking my father if me and my brother could stay with him temporarily. He still lives in the house we grew up in. Our bedrooms are still there, mine looking the same as the day I moved out. Empty. Dad hung up on me after telling me he ‘told me so’ and that Shane was “just like your mother”.
I ignored the nagging feeling that last statement gave me, because yes, I was pretty sure Mom had mental illness, too. She left when we were small, and she, too, had extreme ups and downs in her moods.
I haven’t seen her since that day I watched her walk out with just the small floral suitcase. Of course I spent many nights wondering where she wound up, if she’d found happiness, and why she never tried to reach out to us, especially after we grew up.
Dad is old school, old-fashioned, and hard-headed. I could almost see how she’d have trouble dealing with him after she left, but surely she could’ve made room in her life for us once we were grown up and she wouldn’t have to deal with Dad anymore.
I didn’t get a chance to explain to my dad that my situation wasn’t entirely because of Shane, though if I was honest, the fact that he left me to handle all the financials and didn’t once try to step up knowing I was struggling – he definitely didn’t help matters.
My brother’s friend Sedgewick, a punk singer I’d never met before came and loaded our stuff into his rusty pickup truck and it’s now being stored on one side of the rented warehouse unit where he rehearses with his bandmates. All my worldly goods are stacked at one end of that smelly unit filled with old couches and graffiti-covered walls. Oh and there’s a wall of cages on the other side, with rodents and insects and one large aquarium with a python in it. I’m terrified of snakes so no way could I sleep there.
That garage was our only offer of a temporary place to stay and Sedgewick seemed like a good guy, but no way was I staying there.
Anybody else in my very small circle either made an excuse or outright refused to let me come unless I came alone. I couldn’t bear to let Shane go to that unit by himself, especially with the fact that his state of mind seems to be worse. If I leave him to his own devices, Lord knows what’ll happen.
He needs his meds. He’s partying really hard. He’s barely eating or sleeping. He doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of our situation. And I’m ready to rip my hair out because of all the stress.
So, I felt stuck.
And that’s my excuse for doing what I did.
What I did wasn’t ethical. It’s technically not even legal. And believe me, I feel bad about it. But I didn’t know what else to do – and I tried to get permission. But when I couldn’t… well… I’ve just been hoping it’ll work out, that I’ll figure something else out quick and it won’t come back to bite me.
It was this or stay in that garage with our stuff in an even worse neighborhood than I lived in. With a snake and only a dingy bathroom without a shower, even.
What did I do?
I still had Aiden Carmichael’s key. I called him first, I did, but I did that while I was on the way there. He didn’t answer, so I left a voicemail message. He didn’t call back, so I left two more. I also texted but he didn’t answer, either so I called the number I had for Carly. Full mailbox. I tried their office, too, and their reception said they’re both traveling.
I hated to do it, felt bad about it, but me and Shane have been at Aiden’s apartment for the past three days.
My voicemails and texts are long and rambling, apologizing, and telling Aiden I’m stuck, I’m sorry, and I am in his condo, to please call me and please not have me arrested. Please let me know if there’s some work I can do in exchange for temporary shelter.
Today is Sunday, I’ve been here since Thursday night, and I have submitted two dozen resumes and now have worked this one gig, which means I have enough cash to get Shane his medications. And I have to replace some of the stuff in Aiden and Carly’s pantry and freezer we’ve eaten.
I sent a friend request to Carly on three social media sites, too, so I have definitely tried to get ahold of them.
I’m feeling sick about being here, but in three days I’ve had no other options. I’m super-stressed about it, but know that all I can do is wait to hear back from Aiden or Carly and then I’ll know my immediate fate.
How sad is my life that the only choice I’ve got beyond sleeping in a filthy and unsafe warehouse with no amenities is to stay at my former boss’s condo because he’s out of town and trusted me enough to let me keep his key?
Luck would have it that Shane knows the night watchman. I half-expected to get stopped by the security people and at least quizzed like I did last time, because the guy didn’t recognize me. This security guy and Shane used to work at the same bar, so no questions were asked. Just bro shakes and talks about vibing to some music later.
This is not sitting well with me at all. None of it. Not my financial situation, not where my stuff is being stored, not being homeless, and certainly not my brother’s state of mind - acting like there’s not a care in the world when we’re squatting at my ex-boss’s apartment temporarily.
He’s acting like everything is copasetic. He’s on some sort of ‘high’ right now where just before we were evicted, he was down in one of his ‘lows’.
When I get back from the disastrous magician’s assistant gig, there’s music blaring, so I rush inside and see wall-to-wall people. Not using coasters. Smoking in the apartment. Smoking dope in the apartment, too.
I can’t fucking believe Shane is having a party here!
“Where’s Shane?” I shout.
The night watchman guy, Kevin, jerks his thumb toward where the bedrooms and bathroom are. Shit. Damn. Please tell me he didn’t pass out again with a house full of people, in a place that’s not even his (or mine).
And the security guy is smoking a bong. A bong that’s about four feet tall.
“Jada!” He greets like we’re best pals.
“Party’s over. Sorry. Please get everyone out, Kevin,” I head for the bedrooms. The spare room, where Shane and I have been crashing has all sorts of coats in it and there are two people making out.
“Please go. Party’s over,” I call out again as I head into the master bedroom and find Shane in there, leaning against the window.
I’m snapping his name and approaching before I spot that a girl is on her knees in front of him.
Shit.
He looks like he’s in a daze as her head bobs.
“Shane,” I shriek. “What the fuck?”
He’s looking right at me but he’s expressionless.
“Is that your wife?” the girl turns around and asks over her shoulder.
I shield my eyes. “Shane, God!”
I hear the music halt. Are people leaving?
Good. Thank God.
Shane looks down. “I’m not even hard.”
I give my head a shake, unable to fathom this.
“My wife? Ha. That’s funny,” Shane says slowly. Too slowly. He’s on something. Something bad.
“Get out. Get out. Get out!” I shout at the girl.
I don’t know if I’ve ever shouted at a person like this before, but I’m livid.
She stares blankly at me.
“Jayjay?” My brother looks at me like he’s just waking up from a nap. His eyes are screwed up. He’s so pale. What on earth is he on?
“Shane, I can’t believe you. I can’t fucking believe you!” I screech.
“What the fuck!” I hear from behind me.
I spin and there’s a guy standing there, probably a neighbor, because he doesn’t look at all like any of the people that are here, other than the fact that he’s got a black eye.
He’s tall, mid-to-late twenties, athletic, five o’clock shadow, boy band-like undercut, and wearing chinos and a leather jacket with a button-down dress-shirt.
“I’ve got this under control,” I say, raising my hand. “I’m ending this party now, so you can go home. Sorry about the noise.”
The guy eyes me like I’m from outer space.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands, folding his arms over his chest. A suitcase falls over beside him.
“Did everyone leave?” I ask the guy.
“I kicked ‘em out. Now: you need to tell me who the fuck you are before I call the cops.”
Shane starts choking. And then dry-heaving. He’s bent forward, face turning purple and he’s making an awful wretching sound. It’s as if he’s hurling invisible vomit into the air.
“Shane!” I rush over and smack his back. He seems to recover on his own.
“Hey Jayjay,” he greets.
“Oh my God, Shane.”
“What’s up, sis?”
The girl gets to her feet while pulling a sweater over her head. “This party is lame, Shane,” she says. “Let’s take it to my place. I got some pills that’ll get you hard.”
“Yeah, babe, sure.” He stumbles after her, putting his junk away, his pants still undone.
I clap my palm over my eyes and shake my head.
“Shane!” I call out. “Do not go anywhere. We have to talk. Shane! Hey!”
“It’s all right, sis. It’s all good. See ya tomorrow, JayJay. Love you.” He blows me a kiss and stumbles out behind the girl.
I go to follow. “Wait…”
“Excuse me, who the fuck are you and what’s going on here?” The guy in the doorway blocks me.
“I have to go stop him from leaving.”
He refuses to budge, and I do something totally unlike me. I push past him and storm to the living area and see that the people are all gone, but the apartment is a disaster. I run into the hallway. The elevator doors are closing. Shane is gone.
Damn it. Damn it. I trudge back into the apartment, cussing under my breath as I take in the disaster area.
There are cups, beer cans, and booze bottles. The couch cushions are mostly on the floor and someone spilled a drink on the rug. There’s laughter from the hallway.
I turn in that direction and spot Kevin making out with a girl against the wall?
This is a cluster-fuck.
This is going to get back to Aiden.
I might even get charged for this.
Damn it, Shane!
“Hey!” the guy behind me barks.
“Sorry about the noise. I had no idea he’d throw a party while I was out. I apologize.” I hold the door and gesture for the guy to leave. “It won’t happen again.”
I am totally pretending he didn’t come in here with a suitcase. I’m praying that’s a coincidence, that Aiden hasn’t turned this into an Airbnb.
The guy’s jaw flexes. “One more time. Who… the fuck… are you?” He’s glaring at me.
My eyes rove over him and then it hits me. The resemblance to Aiden.
The suitcase.
The scowl. Definitely reminiscent of Aiden Carmichael.
Oh no.
Oh shit.
He does look like Aiden. Eyes are different, blue instead of chocolate brown, hair is a little lighter, but the jaw, the nose, the scowl.
He folds his arms over his chest.
“I’m, um…” I wince.
I can’t even think, can’t form words, so I shake my head and then move into the kitchen and get a glass of water and chug it.
He looks angry. Really angry as he watches me glug it down. He levels me with a dark gaze. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops.”
He pulls a cell phone from his pocket.
I choke on water and lunge to grab the phone from his hand. “D-don’t do that. Cough cough. I can cough cough explain.” I grab the phone from his hand.
“Do not fucking touch my shit!” He levels me with a hate-stare.
I cough a bit more and try to catch my breath.
I set his phone back in his hand and he takes it from me like I’ve got the cooties or something.
“My water went down the wrong way,” I defend.
This guy is pissed. Not that I can blame him, but I’m pissed too. I can’t believe Shane did this, can’t believe the state of this apartment.
The guy looks around. “You wanna explain who you are, why you’re here, and why this place is trashed?” He looks me over from head to toe as if to mentally add, ‘and you can explain why you’re dressed in that getup?’ He doesn’t make that last statement, but I’m sure my outfit is not going to help me talk my way out of this mess.
I wince. “I realize how this looks. Are you related to Aiden?”
He glares at me.
“I’m Jada. I’m uh…”
“The housekeeper?” He cocks an eyebrow and then looks around and both eyebrows shoot up. “I was afraid of that.”
I look around, too. Yeah, the place did not look like this when I left earlier.
Damn, it, Shane!
“I was. I was his housekeeper and personal shopper. Listen, I’m sorry, but there’s just been a series of unfortunate events, and I’ve been trying to get ahold of Aiden to tell him I’m here, and-”
“Forget it. You’re fired. Get your stuff and go. I’ll hire somebody else.”
I stare, in a daze, as everything feels like it’s falling on me. All of it, stress, worry, despair… it’s piling on me like bricks falling from the sky and I’m about to crumble under the weight of it.
“Get out.” He points.
Oh my God. Where the fuck am I gonna go?
“You on drugs, too? Get. The. Fuck. Out!” He roars. “I don’t need this shit.”
I stare, dumbfounded for a minute as it all starts to dawn. All the shit I’ve got stacked on me right now. All of it.
And I find myself immobile.
“Are you stupid on top of wasted? Go. Before I call the cops. You’re fired. Leave your keys.”
I have no idea where I’m even going. I don’t know where Shane went, either. What do I do? What the fuck will I do?
I woodenly walk back into the bedroom where I’ve got a duffle bag and a backpack. My stuff is all inside, I never made myself at home here. Tried to just stay here with as minimal a footprint as possible, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be here and that I hadn’t gotten permission.
I’ll grab my stuff and I’ll go. Go where? The warehouse? Where the heck is Shane gone? I’ve only been there once, and it’s in an industrial complex so I’m not even sure if I can find it on my own. I have to grab my stuff and his stuff and track him down, I guess.
But where would he even be? I don’t know anybody who was here, except sort-of the security guard.
Where’s my laptop? I look around. I need that laptop. That’s my only source of money, the only way I can look for jobs, the only thing I can do right now to help myself. It’s where my stories are, too, and I need it.
I check the master bedroom. Shane was there, maybe he took it in there.
