Chapter 17

Silently, we all watched as the reporter gave us a virtual tour of some of the most famous Bennington properties.

This included a stunning parade of hotels, along with restaurants, mansions, a horse farm in Kentucky, plus a ranch out West, along with a villa in Tuscany, and a penthouse suite in New York.

The whirlwind tour ended with some exterior shots of the estate right here in Indianapolis, where Zane's grandfather had apparently been living until he died.

It was strange to think I'd just been there, chewing out the property's new owner, for all the good that did.

When the show ended, I hated Zane even more – not because I was jealous, but because the guy was such an ass. In fact, the show's final scene was a long slow-motion shot of Zane, flipping the camera the double-bird.

He'd been standing on the same front porch where I'd visited him today. But unlike earlier, he'd been perfectly groomed and dressed in a pricey suit and tie. He would've looked every inch the billionaire, if only he weren't making such an immature, obscene gesture.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when I recalled something that made me a teeny bit uncomfortable. I'd been making that same gesture at him, less than two hours ago.

But that was totally different, I reasoned, because in my case, Zane totally had it coming.

To no one in particular, I said, "You know, he's gonna run that company straight into the ground."

Charlotte said, "I dunno. They went through a really rough patch a couple years ago, but the company's doing great now."

I turned and gave her a perplexed look. "How do you know?"

She glanced toward her cell phone, sitting on a side table. "I had to do something while you were gone."

I couldn’t resist asking, "So, did you learn anything else? Like about his dad?"

"Oh yeah," Charlotte said. "Get this. The guy's like some mountain man or something."

I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Mountain man?"

Charlotte nodded. "Totally. He lives in a cabin in the U.P."

I asked, "What's the U.P.?"

"The upper peninsula of Michigan. Didn't you know?"

I wasn't familiar with the abbreviation, but I did know that northern Michigan was sparsely populated and known for producing people a lot tougher than I was.

I said, "So the U.P. has mountains?"

Charlotte gave it some thought. "I dunno. Maybe. But you don't need a mountain to be a mountain man."

On this, I decided she had a point. I asked, "What about his Mom?"

"Oh, she died forever ago."

For the first time, I felt a twinge of sympathy for the horrible Zane Bennington. "Really? How?"

"A car accident," she said. "The way it sounds, Zane was just a baby."

And there it was – another annoying twinge of sympathy. The guy hadn't even known his mom? Was that why he was such a jackass? It didn't excuse his behavior, but it might explain some of it, if only a little.

Damn it. I didn’t want to feel sympathy for him. After all, plenty of people had horrible things happen to them, and they didn't all turn into raging jackasses. And besides, Zane was loaded. On top of that, he had a job, with the best job title of all – C.E.O. It didn't get any better than that.

In contrast, I had no job, no title, and no idea how I'd be paying the rent.

With that in mind, I followed after Paisley when she stood and began heading alone toward the kitchen.

I was hoping that if it was just the two of us, maybe we could discuss the rent situation like two reasonable adults.

Those hopes were squashed like a bug on a windshield.

In less than two minutes, our so-called discussion devolved into a whole lot of name-calling – from Paisley, mostly – which caused Charlotte to barge in and return the favor by calling Paisley, among other things, a deadbeat cake-hog.

From there, it went decidedly downhill.

The confrontation finally ended with Paisley marching back to the living room and yanking the professor off the sofa. As Charlotte and I watched, she dragged him out the front door, hollering over her shoulder that she was tired of living with a total nag.

By then, I was so spent that I had nothing left to say.

As for Charlotte, she had plenty. "Oh yeah?" she hollered back. "Well, maybe she's tired of living with a pink-haired lumberjack fucker!"

Oh yeah. It was totally one of those days.

After Paisley squealed out of the driveway, I shut the front door and shuffled silently to the sofa. With a sigh, I sank down where the professor had been lounging just a few moments earlier. If nothing else, he'd kept the spot warm. That was something to be thankful for, right?

I reached up to rub my temples. Who was I kidding?

It was sad day when you had to be thankful for the second-hand warmth of your roommate's married boyfriend.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, wondering what on Earth I was going to do now. I still had five months left on my lease, and that wasn't even the worst of it. I had plenty of other expenses, too – student loans, an outstanding car repair bill, and cripes, even a cell phone contract, which really sucked, considering that I had no phone.

For what felt like the millionth time, I heard myself murmur, "It'll eventually turn up, right?"

From somewhere in the living room, Charlotte said, "If you're talking about your phone, the answer is no."

I sighed. "No?"

"Sorry," Charlotte said. "It's time to accept it and move on."

Stupidly, I repeated, "Move on?"

"Yeah. Buy a new one."

Like that was so easy. I opened my eyes to look at her. She'd reclaimed her spot in the armchair, and was scrolling through her own cell phone.

It must be nice.

I just had to ask, "And how am I supposed to buy anything without a job?"

"Don't worry," Charlotte assured me, "you'll find one."

I gave her a dubious look. "Just like I found my phone?"

"That's totally different," she said. "Your phone's been missing for what? A week?"

"More or less." I was still convinced that it wasn't truly lost. After all, I was pretty sure I'd misplaced it right here, in this house, on a day I hadn't gone anywhere.

Damn it. The phone might still turn up. It had to.

Back when money hadn't been quite so tight, I'd splurged on the latest model, and there was no way on Earth that I could afford to replace it now.

Charlotte said, "And besides, you'll have a new job before you know it."

I tried to smile. "You really think so?"

"Definitely."

But Charlotte was wrong. Nearly a month later, I was still very much unemployed and getting more desperate with every passing day.

In fact, one Tuesday afternoon, I got so desperate that I sold my integrity for pasta primavera and a basket of bread sticks.