Chapter 13
Veronica
“I’d better go after him,” Jayne said and fluttered her lashes at me. “He probably needs a massage. He’s like that when he gets grumpy. Needs a physical pick me up.”
“So that’s it,” I said. Every part of my soul was on fire with sheer embarrassment and anger and just… God, I couldn’t even manage the slush of emotions inside. “You’re back. You’ve just decided to come back.”
“That’s right. I thought you’d be overjoyed. Now, you know you can find another person to fill the space in your apartment because I’ll be living with Carter.” Her tone was sharp, and she searched my face.
Something in our phone conversation had triggered her overt skank senses. She understood that Carter and I were more than just friends, and maybe that something had happened. Jayne wouldn’t give up her meal ticket that easy.
“Well,” Jayne said and filled the silence between us with a tight laugh. “I guess I’ll be on my way. Nice to see you again, sissy. Though, I suggest you get another apron or something. That one is heinous.” She flashed me a grin and spun on her stiletto and walked from the living room. My front door slammed moments later.
“Jesus,” I whispered. I sank to the floor, planted my butt, and dropped that fucking cupcake mitt. The scent of burnt bacon had already seeped into my clothes and hair. Everything was broken and different.
A week ago, all I’d cared about was making rent and getting rid of Jackson and changing the locks. But this? This was complicated. This was a real problem.
I didn’t bother hiding the facts from myself. I’d fallen for my brother-in-law. I’d slept with him. I’d worshipped his body and clung to him. Tasted his sweat, kissed his forehead, and dropped off into dreamland, head flush with his chest, heartbeat in my ear.
All the worst things I could do. The worst possible. I’d done it.
“Jesus,” I repeated, and the tears burst from me. A steady stream of hiccups and sobs. “Idiot. You idiot. Why would you do this to yourself?” I drowned in sorrow and anger. Jayne was back. Carter was gone.
All I had left was my burnt breakfast and a lapful of problems.
I still hadn’t paid this month’s rent. Last month’s was sorted, at least. But my landlord wouldn’t put up with that for much longer. I’d already received a message from him on my cell, semi-threatening. If I didn’t pay up, I’d be out on my ass, that kind of thing.
Jackson hadn’t broken in again but his interference was an ever-present threat. I no longer had a place to display my art and that meant no sales. The last show had gone well, in that I’d sold art to my brother-in-law, but I still didn’t have enough to keep me going.
Things couldn’t get worse.
I dried my eyes with my ugly cupcake apron, pulled my act together, and shuffled onto my knees. I couldn’t spend the day weeping like a pansy. I had to act or I’d never make it ahead. I should never have gotten involved with Carter – he’d distracted from all the important shit going on around me – but it was too late to cry over that spilled milk.
I stood up and dusted myself off with the oven mitt. I walked into the kitchen and flung the windows open, letting out the stream of smoke and bad scents.
“Things have to get better,” I said. This was rock bottom and there was only one way to go from here. So, I’d fallen for my brother-in-law. So, I didn’t have two dollar bills to rub together. So, what, right? I’d figure it out. I always did.
I took the pans off the stove, scraping the ruined food into the trash. The only thing that’d made it through Jayne’s reappearance were those cursed basil tomatoes. I didn’t have the appetite for them.
I grabbed one of the take away coffee mugs, now only lukewarm, and swigged back the caffeine. It didn’t inject me with fervor or excitement. I traipsed through to the bedroom and halted in the doorway.
The bed was made. He’d made the bed. Clean and neat. As if what’d happened last night was just a dream. That hurt like a son of a bitch. Worse than hearing Jayne talk about massaging her husband. Her husband.
“Stop it. Don’t torture yourself.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and examined my pink, chipped toenail polish. I had a paint stain in the crease between my big toe and the insignificant one next to it.
Paint. Maybe I could paint the frustration away. Maybe, I could try a few comic pages or drawings for kids’ books. That brought back Carter’s charity suggestion from our date last night. None of this helped.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat there, resisting more of those tears. No, no, no, I wouldn’t cry about this. This was my mistake. I was an asshole. Jayne was one, too. And heck, so was Carter.
My front door’s buzzer rang and I didn’t get up. A knock followed, then silence. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, and if that was Jayne returned to taunt me about Carter I’d probably throttle her. A sisterly bond only went so far.
The buzzer screeched again and I rolled my eyes. The front door creaked open. What the hell? Who invited themselves into someone’s house when they didn’t answer the door? God, it was Jackson. It had to be.
“Hello?” Georgia’s voice echoed down the hall.
“In here,” I yelled. “Lock the door behind you.”
A slam, the rattle of latches, heels click-clacking on the hardwood. Georgia appeared in the doorway, arms folded against her chest, a long black, lacy shawl draped around her shoulders. She looked like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, smokey-eyed and red-lipped, except with red hair.
“What crawled up your butt and died?” she asked.
I almost answered, ‘Jayne.’ I chewed the inside of my cheek instead.
“You’re starting to worry me, Ron. What’s going on? What happened? And why does it smell like broiled pig in here?”
“I burnt breakfast,” I said.
“Sins abound. But why?”
“Carter was here,” I replied.
Georgia’s eyes flashed. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“I did. It was magical. We did it twice and I fell for him.”
“Okay, so what changed?”
I sucked in a breath. Stalled and took a sip of my coffee. “Jayne’s back.”
“What?!” Georgia screeched.
“Ow.” I inserted my pinky finger into my ear and wiggled it.
“She’s back? What in God’s name is that bitch doing back on US soil?”
“You act like she’s a whistleblower or something.”
“She’s worse than that. She’s – she’s – she’s a toxic turd. Why did she come back? Oh – oh, God no. Was Carter here? When she got back, I mean, was he here?”
I nodded, sour as an old grape. “She cornered him. She wants to get back together.”
“Ugh, that is so typical. Typical Jayne. She’s only back because she’s afraid she’s not going to get any more money from him. I mean, she was really horrible on the phone to you. She acted like she didn’t give a shit about him.”
“Yeah.”
“So, we can assume that the reality of not having a steady stream of sugar daddy cash sank in. Or maybe one of her lovers found out that she was about to lose her revenue stream and ditched her.”
“I don’t care,” I said.
“Bullshit. You do care. If you’ve fallen for him this has to be eating you up inside and we’ve got to do something about it.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no. This has gone too far already. I need to separate myself from this fucked situation and move on with my life. I need to do the healthy thing,” I said.
“Idiot. That’s not the healthy thing. That’s the self-protective thing. God, what’s the word for it? Preservation.”
“Yes, because self-preservation is a terrible idea.” I got up and went to my dresser, putting down the coffee cup. It was cold anyway, and I wasn’t in the mood for anything but sadness.
“It is when you’re only doing it because you’re scared of how amazing something could be. Carter could change your life, and no, I’m not talking about financially before you snap my head off.”
I watched Georgia in my mirror. She stared right back, already on a roll here. She was terrible that way; once she got on her horse it was almost impossible to get her back down again. “Let’s drop this,” I said.
“I’m not dropping it,” Georgia replied. “I just want you to be happy, and you’re going to need that man’s affections in the coming weeks.”
“Huh? What does that even mean?” I asked.
“Shit.” Georgia reached into her handbag and brought out a folded piece of paper. “I found this attached to your front door, just now. I was going to give it to you right away but you were so down.”
“Let me see that.” I rushed over to her.
“It’s an eviction notice.”
I took the page, unfolded it, and studied the words scrawled across it. She was right. It was a notice of eviction. Apparently, my landlord had decided threatening me wasn’t enough. I was out on my ass.
“That’s it,” I said. “That’s me. I’m done.” I crumpled the page into a ball and tossed it against the mirror. “Dammit!”
“I know this looks bad now –”
“Looks bad?” I asked. “It is bad. I can’t do anything about it. Even if I miraculously land a show tomorrow and put up the pieces I have, second-grade pieces by the way, I still wouldn’t sell enough to make rent. In fact, it wouldn’t matter if I made any money because the landlord fucking hates me as it is.”
“You’ve got thirty days to find another place.”
“Oh, awesome! Let’s throw a celebration. Thirty whole days to find somewhere to live and a landlord who’ll take me with bad references and no money. Yippee!” I clapped my hands. Guilt swirled through me right afterward. It wasn’t fair to take this out on Georgia but I was at the end of my tether here.
Too much to handle in one day.
“Hey,” Georgia said. “It’s okay. You can stay with me until you get back on your feet. You can work on illustrations like you planned.”
“I can’t do that to you,” I said. “You’ve got no space. I –”
“I don’t want to hear excuses. You’re moving in with me and that’s that. If your own family won’t help you out then you can bet your left butt cheek I will.” Georgia replied, fierce as a tigress.
I stared at her. The one person I could rely on, no matter what. “What about my right butt cheek?” I asked.
“You’ll need that one for when Jayne comes crawling back. She’s gonna kiss so much ass she’ll need Chapstick injections.”
“Oh, my God,” I said and burst out laughing.
“That’s better. Now, come on,” Georgia replied. “Let’s go get some breakfast. We’ll plot your sister’s downfall over hash browns.”
“I told you, I don’t want to get involved.”
“Uh!” Georgia raised her finger. “No arguments. Not until I’ve eaten something, at least.”