Prologue

Caroline

 

“Shit!” I cursed loudly, and banged my fist against the door. Pain shot through my arm and I winced, but the tears that were forming in my eyes were of frustration, not pain. Somewhere, behind a door, a dog started barking loudly. “Shut up,” I muttered under my breath. The dog kept barking. I wanted to kick it, but I had no idea which one of my neighbors would be pissed off at me now.

 

Ms. Wagner,

 

Please note that due to your failure to pay your rent on time, you face eviction. If you’re unable to come up with the $1395 that you owe monthly by next Wednesday (3/17), we’ll be forced to evacuate you from the premises. If there are any questions about the matter at hand, please call your manager.

 

Best,

 

Morningside Apartments

 

Crumpling the notice into a tiny ball, I threw it over my shoulder and wiped the tears from my tired eyes. My key got stuck in the lock, and I had to lean down and breathe on it to melt some of the frost away. As I banged and thumped and eventually got the door open, the dog started barking again, and I menacingly glared out into the hallway. Looking around, I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn’t think of what was richer: the fact that I was about to get evicted from this shithole, or that this shithole cost almost fifteen hundred dollars a month.

 

My limbs were sore, and I plopped down in my favorite chair, yanking my heels off and massaging the life back into my calves. Today had been a real fucking winner of a day. It was one of those mornings where I’d felt like everything was going to be great, and then everything turned out to be the opposite.

 

I’d woken up in the morning feeling renewed enthusiasm about everything. I’d been having a great hair day, my old jeans finally fit again, and I was excited about my new bartending gig. I’d only been working at The Silk Aria for a couple of months now, but I really liked the place. And there were some cute guys there, too.

 

But as soon as I’d shown up at work, the manager had pulled me aside.

 

“Caroline, you’re great,” he said without enthusiasm. “But times are tough for the bar, and we have to make some cuts. I hope this is only temporary. I hope we’ll be able to figure something out and bring you back on board. I know this really isn’t fair to you, dear.”

 

I’d blinked back tears when he’d told me. Yeah, it wasn’t ideal. I was thirty, and still bartending. But that was what happened when acting work was tough. Thinking about it now made me blush with shame. I was a thirty-year-old woman, unable to get her shit together. I couldn’t keep a job. I couldn’t get a man. And now, I was about to get kicked out of the one apartment where I’d ever lived without a roommate.

 

Eddie, the manager, had let me work the rest of my shift. I hadn’t felt so bad about it at first, but every time I waited on a table and got a compliment for my service, I felt bad. I wanted to throw the tips back in the faces of all the guys who leered at my tits, but I knew that this money was going to have to last me for a long time.

 

Now, at home, I felt more wired than ever. It was close to five in the morning and the sun was beginning to come up, but I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my apartment being raided by the management people. I burned with shame when I thought about what I’d have to do in order to stay afloat. It wasn’t like being rejected from acting. At least with that, I knew where I stood all the time. Acting had been a tough gig, and I hadn’t ever been that good at it. But since I loved it, I’d always kept trying. And now it seemed like I’d just wasted my time. I tried to think about what I’d be doing now if I hadn’t caught the drama bug in high school. Shit. I probably could have gone to college, or become an accountant. Or even worked at a steady job I hated and still made enough to save for the occasional vacation. It was depressing to realize just how far I’d fallen from my dream.

 

In high school, acting had seemed like the only thing for me. I’d been the lead in all of the school plays, and it had been one of the only things that I felt like I was really, naturally good at. But all of that changed as soon as I started trying to make it in the real world. No matter how much of a star I’d been in my younger days, now there was always someone younger than me. Or prettier than me. Or richer than me, with family who were willing to pay in order to help them get famous. Thinking it over made me feel ridiculous, and old. For an industry that didn’t love women over the age of twenty-four, the fact that I’d still been trying at thirty said it all.

 

I was pathetic. I’d never been in this much trouble before in my entire life. And I had no idea how I was going to manage my way out of this.