“Would you like me to take you somewhere, or should I just drive you back to your car?” Rob asked as they pulled out of the burger joint’s drive-through.
Maggie thought about that for a second before responding. The last fifteen minutes had really shaken her. First, there was that kiss, which she’d sort of been expecting, but she hadn’t expected how she’d react to it. It wasn’t just a “Hey, handsome, that was fun” sort of kiss. No, it had been a melt-in-his-arms, never-let-go sort of kiss, the kind she didn’t think really existed because she’d never had one. And then hearing the voice of the police sergeant on the other end of the phone, telling her that her apartment had been processed and she was now free to go back … but she had to get there fast because the landlord was evicting them . . . a lot to experience in a very short amount of time.
“I hate to ask . . .” she said finally.
“Just ask. How can I help?”
“We could fit more in your truck than we could in my car. I don’t have a ton of stuff, but this would simplify things . . .”
“Of course.” He pulled up at a red light, took out his cell phone, and sent a quick text. “There. Danny will hold down the fort until I get back.”
“Thanks, Rob. I really appreciate it.”
She could tell that he was curious, but he wasn’t asking questions, and she was grateful for that. She’d tell him everything, but she just needed a few minutes to sort it through in her mind.
The police sergeant had also told her that Zoe was being charged as an accessory, and she was still in jail. That was the toughest blow of all—not that Zoe had been charged, but because Maggie had every reason to believe those charges were based on fact.
Rob reached over and took her hand, a comforting gesture that she appreciated more than she’d realized she would. They parked for a few minutes under some shady trees alongside the road and ate their burgers, then continued on their way, mostly in silence except for telling Rob which streets to take.
When they arrived at Maggie’s old apartment, Mr. Zuckerman was standing on the lawn, his arms folded across his paunchy stomach, scowling.
“It’s a good thing you showed up,” he said as he walked up to the truck. “I was about to send my guys in there to start throwing your stuff out the window.”
“I’m here. Please just give me a few minutes,” Maggie said. She slid out of the truck much more gracefully than she had earlier. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”
“You have fifteen minutes,” Mr. Zuckerman told her. “I’ve been patient, but that’s all I can give you.”
“Wait.” Rob got out of the truck as well and stood on the sidewalk, facing Mr. Zuckerman. “Why does she only get fifteen minutes? I don’t understand.”
“Are you her lawyer or something? What business is it of yours?”
“It’s my business,” Rob replied, and Maggie’s gaze darted to Mr. Zuckerman’s face. What was he going to tell Rob? Was there a way to get out of this?
“See, what happens is, when a tenant doesn’t pay their rent for months at a time, the landlord has certain rights. I haven’t exercised those rights because I thought these were nice girls, and they’d get their rent paid eventually. But then they get hauled off to jail, see, and the police are all over this place like flies on honey, and they’re asking the other tenants questions—I can’t have that here. I have little children living here. I have elderly living here. I have to protect my people—the ones who do pay their rent. And I don’t like being used.”
“Mr. Zuckerman, I didn’t know the rent wasn’t getting paid,” Maggie said, feeling sick. “I gave Zoe my share every month—I thought she was taking care of it.”
“I haven’t seen one dime of rent from you for six months,” Mr. Zuckerman replied. “I have every right to take you to court, but you know what, I’m not going to. I figure, you’ll get what’s coming to you. Now, take your stuff and leave. I even put some empty boxes in the hall for you. That’s what kind of nice guy I am.”
Maggie reached out and touched Rob’s arm. He looked like he still wanted to argue, but he didn’t know the story. “Let’s hurry,” she said. “It won’t take very long.”
Rob nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Zuckerman for another ten seconds. Finally, he turned and followed Maggie inside.
She grabbed the boxes from the hallway, pulled them into the apartment, and started pointing. “That’s my closet. Just take everything out of there. And that’s my dresser—everything from there too. I’ll grab my bathroom stuff.”
They didn’t speak as they worked, although the questions hung in the air as heavy as smoke. Jail. Police. Non-payment of rent. What could Rob be thinking right now? He was probably regretting ever meeting her. What if he went back to the Brody and told Andrew about this? No, she’d leveled with Florence, and Florence had given her the job anyway. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as she was making it seem . . . but even if it just changed things between her and Rob and didn’t mess up her job at all, it was still plenty bad.
Because that kiss had said worlds.
Rob moved quickly and had her closet and dresser cleaned out before she’d even finished separating her bathroom things from Zoe’s. She supposed she could just take everything because Zoe was in jail and her things would get tossed anyway, but she was too stunned, too hurt by what Zoe had done to want to salvage her things for her. Maybe she was being mean, but this was part of the natural consequence of Zoe’s choices, and she only had fifteen minutes.
Rob came and stood in the bathroom doorway. “What next?”
“The stuff out of the small nightstand by the bed, please.”
He stepped away without saying anything else. She realized, far too late, that he’d just pawed through all her things, including her unmentionables and . . . gasp . . . her socks, but there was no time to be shy now.
“Any of this furniture?” he called out.
She paused, trying to decide. Part of her wanted to leave and just forget about it, but another part, a larger part, knew she’d regret it. “There’s a bookcase in the living room that means a lot to me. I don’t care about the stuff on it—just the bookcase itself.”
When she dragged the bathroom box into the living room a moment later, she saw that Rob had stacked everything from the shelves onto the coffee table and was ready to carry the bookcase down to the truck. “Rob,” she said softly before he picked it up.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Welcome.” Then he maneuvered the unit through the living room and out the door.
Maggie exhaled. She had everything out of here that she wanted. She’d paid for some of the kitchen towels and stuff like that, but she didn’t want any of it. What she wanted was the life she’d thought she had—living with her best friend, finding their way in the world, creating new futures separate from their pasts. But it had been a lie, and she just wanted to leave.
She grabbed the bathroom box and carried it outside, handing it up to Rob, who had climbed in the back of the truck to secure the bookcase. She had just turned to go back in for the next box when a Mustang pulled up, tires squealing. She knew that car—this wasn’t what she needed.
Lance got out, followed by Ashli, his permanently glued-on girlfriend. “Hey,” he called out. “What’s up?”
“Just getting my stuff.”
“Yeah, Zoe called and asked Ashli to come clear out her things too. Nice guy, that landlord, giving you all this time. I told Ashli not to worry about it, that Zoe and Dean would be out in no time, but she was all uptight about it.”
“What if they aren’t out in no time, Lance? What if the charges stick because they’re the real thing?”
Lance snorted. “No way. Dean knows how to beat a wrap. He’ll be back here in a week, I bet you good money.”
Rob hopped down from the bed of the truck and stood next to Maggie. “We’re running out of time—we need to keep moving.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to slow you down.” Lance made a show of moving out of the way.
“Come on, Lance. We gotta hurry,” Ashli said, pulling on his arm.
“Everything left in there is Zoe’s. I’ve already packed up my stuff,” Maggie said. She just wanted to get out of there, and she never wanted to see Lance or Ashli again. She’d never liked them in the first place—they were Zoe’s friends, not hers.
“That’ll make it easier then. All right, let’s do this.”
Maggie and Rob grabbed the last of her boxes and threw them in the truck before Lance had an opportunity to say anything else. They pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street for a few blocks, but then Rob pulled over and cut the engine. Maggie’s stomach was in knots. She knew what was coming next.
“Listen, Maggie. I don’t have any right to pry into your life, and I know that. We’re just dating . . . sort of . . . and you’re entitled to keep whatever secrets you want to keep. But I did just get dragged into this, and I think it would be really nice if I knew what was going on.”
Maggie pulled in a deep breath. Rob was trying to keep his voice level, but she knew he was frustrated, and probably a little bit mad, too.
“So, I told you that my parents were drug addicts.”
“Yes, you did.”
She looked out the window while she told him about going to live with Zoe when she was in high school, and everything that had happened since. “I didn’t know until a few months ago that Zoe’s boyfriend was a dealer, and I begged her to dump him,” she said. “She wouldn’t do it, and I didn’t have any evidence—I’d overheard a few conversations, but nothing that would hold up in court. He was already on the police’s radar by this point, so it’s not like they didn’t know about him. Last week, things came to a head, and they sealed off our apartment to search it for his stash, which he said he’d hidden somewhere in our place. I don’t know if he actually did or not—the police didn’t say. All I know is this—I thought Zoe was paying our rent, I didn’t know she was involved, I’ve never touched drugs once in my life, and this whole thing had just been so hard.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she talked. “Zoe was my best friend, the only person I had in my whole life, and she wouldn’t listen to me and now she’s in jail.”
Rob didn’t say anything. He just started the engine again and pulled back out onto the road. When he pulled up at her new apartment, she didn’t ask how he knew where it was—he probably stole that information from Andrew too—and started carrying her things inside. Then he stood in her doorway, thumbs hooked through his belt loops.
“Need a ride back to your car?”
“No, I’m fine.” She wasn’t actually fine—she had no idea how she was going to get back to the hotel. Maybe a taxi. But she wasn’t about to ask him. He vibrated with emotion, and she knew he was at the end of his rope. “Thanks for your help.”
He nodded once, then left, and she sat down on the couch, all the strength gone from her knees. She should have been more proactive about working with the police, but she’d been trying to protect Zoe, who she thought needed protecting. Until she found out she was wrong. She should have told Rob everything from the start, but she was protecting herself, and it all came out anyway. There were so many things she could have done differently, so many ways she could have handled this that would have been smoother, more right, possibly more ethical . . . but ethical to whom? She’d done the best she could, and at the time, she hadn’t seen another way. Now, looking at it through Rob’s eyes . . .
He would never want to speak to her again. She was sure of it.
She sat on her couch until the sun went down and the room became dark. That was a long time to spend thinking about her life and chastising herself for every choice she’d ever made, but her brain just wouldn’t stop spinning along that track. Finally, she stood up, turned on the lights, and dragged her boxes into the bedroom. She now had all her clothes, but as she pulled them out and started to hang them up, she realized that these were the clothes of a life she no longer wanted to live. They belonged to a person she didn’t want to be anymore. She was a manager now, not an entry-level worker, and she should be dressing more professionally.
She went through and pulled out the few blouses and slacks and skirts she owned, then sifted through everything else, throwing out most of her jeans and many of her yoga pants, only keeping enough for casual weekends and lounging around at home. Her flip-flops went, along with her ratty slippers. She didn’t have tons of money to spend on a new wardrobe, but what she did get would reflect the self-confidence she was working on. No one would respect her if she didn’t respect herself, and it was time she got to work on that.
And if Rob still didn’t come around . . . well, that was a sign of his character, not hers. She knew she was telling the truth, and if he couldn’t see it, oh, well. It would be a shame, but a shame he created, not her.