Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

2. Kavi

KAVI

From: Kavi [email protected]>

To: Nathan [email protected]>

Date: June 3 10:22 AM

Subject: Left in the Lurch

Okay, so imagine the worst possible situation on your first day of work, and then multiply it by twenty.

Yup, you’re looking at the first server in history to spill ice water on her boss’s lap, after sending a champagne bottle cork flying into his forehead.

Needless to say, I’m looking for a job. Again.

I’ll spare you the details and give you a chance to catch your breath since I know you’re bowled over with laughter, but can you be serious for a second?

What the hell am I going to do now? I needed this job so fucking bad, Nathan!

Before you start with a lecture, let me remind you that you curse plenty, and I only do it when the situation deems it appropriate. I’ve deemed this situation appropriate for a couple of fucks, a few shits, and at least one damn.

Three months, and then I’ll be working at my dream job with a paycheck that’ll cover everything we could need, but until then . . . I needed this.

I guess it’s time for me to ask for help, huh? God, you know how much I hate that. But if I don’t, I’m not sure how we’ll even manage to pay rent.

Enough about me, though; I’ll figure it out. What have you been up to?

Also, are you seeing this crazy weather? When have we ever gotten this much rain in Northern California? It’s been twenty-eight straight days at this point, and I’m sorta over it.

xoxo

-Special K

Pressing the key fob in my hand, I try my luck again, but of course, I should know better. It hasn’t worked the past thirty-five times I’ve tried it, so why would it suddenly work now?

Shoving my key into the lock on my car door, I turn it, barely hearing the click above the splattering of rain and tires driving through the puddles on the street behind me. Whatever. It’s not like I have anything of value in there, anyway. Just some paint supplies.

Looking both ways before crossing, I trudge through the rain, my coral-colored Doc Martens now the color of mud. Sheets of rain beat down on my covered head, crawling down my nose and lips in a steady stream before falling from my chin, as I try my best to protect my small purse under my raincoat.

They’re calling it the wettest spring in the Bay Area in over a decade. I was alive a decade ago, and I don’t recall this much rain. It’s getting to be a real hassle, if you ask me. The incessant storms have turned the streets into watery and hazardous mazes, we haven’t seen the sun in weeks—annoying because this is supposed to be sunny California!—and every step feels like I’m playing puddle hopscotch.

I shake off some of the water from my raincoat under the awning of the coffee shop before entering. Swiping the bottoms of my shoes on the sodden rug in the front, I unsuccessfully try to wipe off the mud from them while casting my gaze around the room.

Rain, shine, or catastrophic tornado, Madison Case is never late. At almost five-feet-ten inches, with naturally platinum blonde hair, she’s also damn near impossible to miss, so it’s no surprise when I see her tucked into a chair in the back, pounding something out on her phone with her rapidly moving fingers.

Pulling off my raincoat and hanging it on the coat tree nearby, I pad over to my friend, the squishy sounds of my damp steps lost to the hum of the shop.

“Excuse me.” I drum my short orange fingernails on the table, making her eyes snap up to meet mine. “I was wondering if you could help me find a Professor Madison Case around here?”

Madison’s entire face lights up, her bluish-gray eyes sparkling as she shoves her phone into her purse and leaps up to wrap me in her arms. “God, doesn’t it feel like the end of the world out there? It took me an extra fifteen minutes to get here with the pileup on the highway.”

I hang my purse on the back of the chair before taking a seat in front of her. “And yet, you’re still here before me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Habits formed by a dad who could have been an army general.” She waves the air between us as if trying to move on to the next subject. “Anyway, tell me how you’ve been? Congrats on graduation, by the way! What’s next? Gosh, it’s been too long since we caught up.”

Oh, where do I start?

Madison and I met at a volunteering event her dad’s company hosted a few years ago during the holidays. We were chosen to be on the same team to pack bags of groceries for the needy and deliver them around San Francisco. It was during that eight-hour event that I found a lifelong friend. And that’s saying something since I don’t have very many of those to begin with. Perks of being a wallflower and all that.

Plus, you could say I have trust issues.

So, while we don’t hang out often, we make it a point to meet up every couple of months to catch up.

Madison is a chemistry professor at the University of California in Berkeley, and one of the most generous and kind-hearted people I’ve met. There’s not a thing the woman wouldn’t do to help even a stranger on the street, let alone her friends.

Which is why I feel guilty even coming here with an agenda.

I know she’d help me find a job to tide me over for a few months, but A.) I hate asking for favors, especially from friends, because it always makes me feel like I’m using their friendship, and B.) I hate asking favors from a person who will literally stop at nothing to help me, despite how busy she is.

I wiggle out my credit card from my purse, rising from my chair. “I’ll catch you up on everything—I also want to know how the wedding planning is going—but we’re going to need coffee first. Tell me what you’ll have.” When Madison tries to get up with her designer purse in hand, I shake my head. “Nope, you got me last time. This one’s on me.”

“I didn’t realize you were counting,” she huffs, placing her purse back on the table, but I appreciate when she doesn’t argue.

It’s not a secret that Madison’s well-off. From what I understand, that wasn’t always the case, and her humble, down-to-earth demeanor is a testament to that. But given my current, barely held together getup—a faded black tank top with a large strawberry illustrated in the middle, jeans that definitely weren’t ripped when I bought them, and Nathan’s weathered red-and-blue flannel tied around my waist—along with the fact that she knows I still drive my dad’s old Mazda and have school loans I’ll be paying off for the foreseeable future, it’s obvious I’m not rolling in dough, but I’m grateful she doesn’t make me feel that way.

“Well, I am,” I sass at her with a smile, though she knows I’m teasing. “Now, tell me what you want.”

Seven minutes later, I’m sauntering back to the table with a medium mocha latte for Madison and a kid-sized black coffee for myself. I’d wanted my favorite crème br?lée macchiato, but by the time I got to the counter and realized a kid’s cup of coffee would be eighty percent cheaper, I figured I’d save the extra cash.

I take a sip, trying not to make a face when it burns my tongue. “Are you all set for the big day? It’s coming up so soon!”

Madison hums around her first sip, putting the cup down and smiling from ear to ear. She’s been dating her girlfriend, Brie, for almost five years, and the two decided to take things to the next level earlier this year. They’re supposed to be getting married mid-summer.

At twenty-nine-years old, Madison’s about four years older than me, with one hell of a good head on her shoulders. She’s accomplished more in one life than most people could in two. From having made huge contributions leading to breakthroughs in renewable energy, to publishing influential papers in the field of chemistry, to all the charity work she does, she’s a force to be reckoned with. And the person she gives all the credit to is her dad.

Apparently, he was only seventeen when she was born and raised her on his own, while trying to figure out a future for the two of them. And what an incredible future he carved, given his multi-million-dollar Earth Sciences business. From the little I know—given I’ve never seen or met him—Madison and her dad are more like best friends than a typical father-daughter duo.

“We’re ready! Well, for the most part. There’s always last-minute things, but nothing I’m stressed about.” She chuckles. “Brie, on the other hand, thrives on stress, so no matter how many times I’ve assured her that everything’s going to be fine, she finds reasons to freak out. We got your RSVP a few weeks ago; I’m so glad you’ll be there.” She wags her brows. “No plus-one?”

I wink at her, hoping to hide behind the veil of jest. “Plus-ones are for people who get bored by themselves. I, for one, have no problems with my own company.”

I don’t mention the fact that plus-ones are for those who seek them out, or any relationship at all, for that matter.

It’s not that I haven’t explored relationships in the past, because I have. But things usually fizzle out after a few dates, probably because I’m guarded. It takes time for me to open up to someone. Whatever the reason, no one has ever worked hard enough to look beneath the layers, to stick around long enough. And, truth be told, I’ve never found someone worth letting in that far.

She takes a sip of her drink, winking at me from above the rim. “Well, if that changes, you can always add one at the last minute. We’re keeping things pretty casual.”

I smile at her. “I can’t wait. And if you need any help at all, let me know.”

“Okay, now tell me what’s happening in Kavi-land! What’s next for you now that you’ve graduated? Masters in art therapy, right? That’s pretty damn exciting!”

“Thanks. Yeah, it is exciting,” I agree, turning the cup on the table clockwise and chewing my bottom lip. “I got a full-time position as a therapist at a children’s hospital in Portland that starts after the summer—”

Madison’s hand clamps over mine, cutting off my words. “Kavi, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!”

I blush. “Thanks.”

I’ve never been good with compliments . . . or words in general. I’m definitely better with people I care about, but getting to know someone new or making conversation for the sake of doing so has never been my forte. If I have friends, like Madison, it’s because they’ve tried to get to know me. But even so, I don’t divulge enough for them to know much.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never found myself interesting enough. Maybe I’ve just always liked listening and observing more. Or maybe it’s because I tend to be the overthinking type, never sure of what to say. By the time I figure it out, the moment’s usually long gone.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved art—it doesn’t require my words, just my thoughts. It’s the only place where my feelings are enough. Where I am enough. The place where I’m both completely in control and completely free.

The place where mistakes result in new possibilities, not catastrophic endings.

“What are you doing until then?” Madison asks after taking another sip of her drink.

My face heats at the thought of asking her for help; I’ve never been good at that, either. “Actually, I’m desperately looking for a short-term gig. Something to be a stopgap until I start my job.”

Her brows furrow. “Do you want me to ask around at the university? There’s always a need for temporary positions. I can also ask Brie if she needs anyone to help at her law firm—”

“Actually,” I clear my throat, “I saw a position at your dad’s company, Case Geo, for a temporary admin position.

Her eyes widen as realization sets in. “Oh, that’s right! My dad’s looking for a person to fill-in while his admin is on maternity leave this summer.” She blows out a breath. “But, as much as I love the man, I’d never wish for a friend to work for him.”

My brows wrinkle. “Why?”

She huffs out a breath, as if wondering where to start, chuckling at the end. “Girl, my dad’s not easy to please. It’s why I’d never work for him! We’d kill each other!” She throws her head back, laughing as if she’s made the best joke before her eyes turn sympathetic. “I’ll recommend you for the position if that’s what you want—it would work out in terms of timing for you, too—but . . . I don’t want you to hate my dad.”

I reel back. “Hate him? Why would I hate him?”

She sighs. “He’s the best man I know and the best father a girl could ask for, but . . . he’s also a big grump with soaring-high expectations when it comes to his employees. Me and a couple of his close best friends are the only ones who truly know him, but otherwise, he tends to keep people at arms’ length.”

Maybe her dad and I have something in common already.

I snort. “Well, as long as he’s even marginally better than the jackass who came into the restaurant last night, I should be fine.”

I try not to visibly cringe as I recall the gorgeous asshole’s face as he got torpedoed by a stray bottle cork. God, what a disaster. If I never think about that incident again, it’ll be too soon.

“What?” Madison leans forward, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear.

“Never mind.” I shake my head. “Don’t worry about me hating your dad. If he raised someone like you, then he can’t be that bad.” My shoulders slump as I watch a raindrop trace its way down the window, merging with a larger droplet before meeting Madison’s gaze again. “Things are a little tight and . . . I need this.”

The overdue notice on the counter for this month’s rent curdles my stomach. Between Mom’s jobs as a customer service rep and Uber driver, and my paychecks from my TA position, we’ve been able to cover our living expenses, including rent, utilities, and food until now. But whatever was in our savings has been long depleted from Dad’s medical and funeral bills.

Money has been tight ever since I graduated and lost my TA position. And while relocating to a more affordable area around the Bay is an option, it comes with the cost of potentially downgrading school districts and compromising my brother’s education. Not to mention the huge adjustment Neil would face at a new high school as he gears up to be a senior next year.

Change isn’t easy in high school. I know that better than anyone.

Madison’s hand falls gently on my forearm. “Hey, I get it. I know how tough it’s been ever since your dad died.” I don’t clarify that it was tough long before that, too. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you the job with my dad. In fact, consider it done, okay?”

“Thank you.” I lay my hand on top of hers, closing my eyes, and once again appreciating the fact that she’s not treating me like a charity case by just offering me money.

She shifts, snorting. “Well, don’t thank me yet. This might not be the blessing you’re thinking it’ll be. My dad is—”

“You won’t hear a single complaint from me, I promise. If he agrees, the only thing I’ll feel is gratitude.”

Madison smirks, a playful glint in her eyes. “Let’s see if you’re singing the same tune in three months. And don’t let this temporary admin position fool you. It’ll pay well, but volunteering to juggle live grenades might be easier. But hey, more power to you if you can do it. Just remember, I warned you.”

Later, as I insert the key to unlock my car, watching the rain gently patter over the pavement, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve asked for more than I can handle. My gaze lands on a puddle near my tire, trembling with every falling droplet, much like my heart seems to be . . .

As if it can sense the approach of a much bigger storm.