Chapter Three
Calli
The boxes are never ending. It’s amazing how much you can accumulate without realizing. Which became evident when I packed up and made the journey to Baltimore, leaving behind the place I called home for the last eleven years of my life.
I’ve rented this apartment part-furnished, so at least there is a sofa and a bed. Somewhere in all of this crap are sheets but I am too exhausted to find them.
Wanting to get here quickly, I’d foregone the last night in a motel and drove the U-Haul truck straight through the night. I hit Baltimore around six this morning, then had the annoying task of taking numerous trips up and down in the elevator.
It is eight now and Sin has been here for about thirty minutes. The bed is calling me. But… Who the hell knows where the sheets are?
“Why in the holy hell did you drive all night?”
“I don’t know,” I huff out a breath blowing some hair off my face.
“Well, you look like shit.”
“Thank you.”
Sinclair is my best friend from my college days. When I called and said I was moving to Baltimore, she’d been more excited than a cat in a tuna factory. I needed that and will forever love her for it. We have been there for one another through our good times and bad.
Currently, I am enduring a prolonged bad period.
“You really know how to make a girl feel special, Sin.”
“You are special,” she leans down and squishes my face in her hand.
I flinch away but smile with a shake of my head.
“You ever heard of a label maker?”
“I was in a hurry.” I flop backward, landing on the cushion I’d dumped out of a box while looking for cups to make coffee. Fortunately, the coffee maker had not been broken in the mishap outside the elevator with the hot guy. That had been a vase I didn’t even want.
“You have your yoga mat and hand weights handy, but no bed linen,” Sin tuts as she roots through a large box. I am fairly sure it holds everything from my bathroom.
“Hey, at least I made you coffee.”
“Hmm,” Sin pulls out a bunch of fluffy towels.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” I ask, tilting my head sideways so I can make eye contact.
Sin sits down on the arm of the sofa and crosses her legs.
I’ve always loved her sense of style. She isn’t afraid to be who she wants to be, without a care about what other people think. She is wearing purple and black striped tights which tuck into charcoal sneakers that have a platform heel to rival even the most outrageous of seventies glam rock bands. I have no clue how she walks in them.
Her skirt has buckles all over it, and braces that cross at the front rather than in back. She’s wearing a pastel pink scarf wrapped around her breasts beneath it, and approximately fifteen overlapping necklaces of varying lengths.
Her dark hair is shaved on one side, and chin length asymmetrical on the other. It has an electric blue streak running through the front.
She looks cool, compared to my gym leggings, plain white sneakers and cropped yellow hoodie with a star on the front.
I hate to agree with her, but having caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the front door, I can’t argue. I look like shit.
And that makes me flush all over again at the thought of the guy I ran into this morning. He must have thought I looked a fright. He got away fast enough.
Not that I have even one shred of energy to put into impressing anyone, let alone a hot, tattooed six foot something… I shake my head to forget about that guy.
“Not in the last twenty-four hours,” Sin says in answer to my question, her lip twitching. Then her face gets serious, and it makes my stomach tighten. “Are you okay, babe?”
“I’m fine,” I say as breezily as I can. I don’t want her to worry.
She doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe me. But she doesn’t press, knowing I’ll talk in my own time. I’m not sure when that will be. It still hurts to think about any of it, let alone talk.
“Sarah and Anya want to meet for brunch.”
I snort. “ Brunch ? Who do they think they’re kidding?”
She laughs. “They’re excited you’re here. I told them it won’t be today. They can wait. Today you’re mine,” she grins.
Back in college, our foursome had been inseparable. I hadn’t kept in close contact with either of them the last few years, but Sin kept me up to date. I made it here for Sarah’s wedding, but not Anya’s, or the births of both of their kids. I sent gift cards. It isn’t the same as making the effort to come here, but my life was different in San Antonio.
It is going to be a struggle to adjust to this new normal.
I glance around the apartment. It is small, with two bedrooms, the second bedroom is barely big enough for a single bed.
I’ve gone from a huge four-bedroomed, architecturally built home, to this place. Albeit in a great, vibrant neighborhood in the city.
It is vastly different to what I had after graduating from the University of Texas with an architectural degree. A degree I’m not sure I will use again.
The job I have lined up here is an administrator for a realtor’s office. I am dreading the very thought of going there. But I can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Jericho, Sin’s boyfriend, got me an over the phone interview and put in a good word for me.
They must have been desperate, or Jericho had some influence because they hired me so easily. I guess to them, designing houses must mean I have knowledge of how to sell them.
“Come on,” Sin grabs both my hands and pulls hard enough to raise me to a sitting position. She huffs as though it’s hard. “Get up, let’s get this finished then I’ll buy you lunch.”
I can’t argue with that. As much as I hate to admit it, money is tight. It’s hard to ask for help. Sin has been amazing, doing it in a way that feels natural, not like she’s pitying me.
She brought over two bags of groceries, as a ‘housewarming’ gift, daring me to argue with her.
I roll up and give her a hug. Then we get to work finishing everything off, including making the bed and stocking the bathroom. It is nowhere near lunch time when we’re done but Sin cracks a joke about it being brunch .
After a quick shower, I change into a pair of denim cut-offs and a blouse, because it’s already hotter than Hades. This place has no air conditioning. A fan will go to the top of the list when I get my first paycheck.
I stand in the small bedroom and the enormity of what happened hits me. I kept busy getting away from San Antonio. I’ve barely had time to stand still and breathe. Now I’m here, in the place that is my new home.
Starting my new life.
I’ve lost everything.
My heart starts to pound and my head spins. For a moment, it gets hard to breathe and I wobble a little, reaching out my hand for the metal footboard on the bed.
Sucking in air frantically until I get a grip on myself, I force the panic attack away. The first time I had a panic attack, I thought I was dying.
This is my new normal. I must accept that, embrace it and move on.
I’m strong enough to do it.
Maybe if I repeat that often enough, it will be true.
Everyone is nice and polite, and they welcome me into the Lytham Realtor family with smiles, and a two-hour training session. Which consisted of a lot of videos of people selling houses, testimonials from customers and a virtual tour of their portfolio.
Sue, the co-owner, told me I’d be riding along with Eric. He is their top salesman, Sue thought it would be fun for me to see inside other people’s homes.
It is all so… Not me.
My cheeks hurt from fake smiling. At the little desk in the corner, I sit down, pulling at the sleeve of my shirt irritably. It keeps catching on my watch strap and I am nearly ready to rip the fabric.
I glance at the time. Great, I’ve been here four hours, and I already want to hit my head against the desk.
I’m being ungrateful. But I’m allowed to lament how I ended up here. Instead of wallowing in thoughts that are going to snap my fragile grip on sanity, I bury myself in the files.
My architect’s brain doesn’t care about furnishings and neighborhoods. I take some comfort in looking at the floor plans of the properties. I analyze where I would change things and marvel when they’ve done something good.
For a while, it gets me out of my head. Until I think of my own clients and the two properties I was working on. One almost built, the other halfway through the design phase. I don’t even know who has picked up the work. Probably Dean Samuels from Impact Architecture, one of my biggest rivals. The thought of that makes me sick.
My designs are my babies. It’s like someone has taken away a beloved family member. Might sound stupid but my work is a huge part of my life.
When Sue returns to see how I’m doing, I force a smile and ask if I can take my lunch break.
“Oh, of course,” she says, blinking rapidly. “We have a full kitchen here and I brought in my home-made lasagna this morning, you’re welcome to have some.”
“I’m vegetarian,” I lie, standing and grabbing my coat. “I saw a coffee shop down the street, I’ll run in there. How long is lunch?”
“Well, thirty minutes?” She sounds like she’s guessing. Maybe no one ever asked for a lunch break before.
“Thanks, see you soon.”
Walking into the bright sunshine, I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this, otherwise I’ll be homeless. I’ve already been through that once. Let’s not do that again. I repeat this to myself as I walk down the block.
When I reach Swirl and Grinds, I go to open the door but pause at the sign in the window.
‘Help Wanted, Inquire Within.’
Sin will kill me. Jericho will probably shit a brick. Am I really going to throw in the towel four hours after starting a new job? A bell tinkles as I walk inside, and the aroma of coffee makes me close my eyes for a moment. It’s busy given its lunch hour. The queue is long. One woman is serving, taking orders and trying to make drinks at the same time.
For a while I was a barista in college. I didn’t need the job, but I enjoyed the work. I’m not overly extroverted, but I like chatting with new people.
My career goals changed once I graduated and became a full-time architect, working my way up through the company I interned with. All the way to owning my own firm.
I shake those thoughts away. I’ve never been one to shy away from an opportunity. Instead of standing in line, I walk right up to the counter, where there is a hinged bar for staff to go through. A man is making food in the kitchen behind the counter.
I lean forward and catch the attention of the harried looking woman.
“I’m doing the best I can,” she says. “If you can wait in line.”
“I’m not here for a drink,” I reply. Well, I am but right now that doesn’t matter. “I’m here about the job. You could use the help.”
She turns her head while still making the drink and eyes me. Her hair is black and pulled back in a braid over her shoulder, she has funky purple glasses pushed up on top of her head.
“You have experience?”
“I worked in a coffee shop in college for two and a half years.”
“No offense, but you are a long way out of college.”
I’ll let that slide. She’s clearly stressed. Someone shouts at the back of the queue to hurry the hell up. Rude asshole.
“Look, how about I come back and help clear this, you can see for yourself whether I’m worthy. If not, no worries. But at least you can clear the line.”
She glances at the growing crowd of people and back at me, struggling to decide. Maybe she isn’t the manager or has no authority to agree, but more shouting makes up her mind.
“Aprons are back there. You know how to work the register?”
I glance at it. It’s a touch screen with the menu on a digital display. How hard could it be? I nod, as I lift up the counter, grab an apron and walk to the register.
“I’m Calli,” I tell her.
“Ruby, please don’t let this be your first impression of me, I’m about to lose my mind.”
“I got you,” I grin at her.
And I start serving customers, taking orders, ringing them up, and passing them off to Ruby to prepare. It takes a while, but we eventually get the line down to manageable. The angry guy makes a comment about getting decent people to work here. Ruby whirls like she is about to rip his head off, but I cut her off.
“Thank you for the observation. We’ll take that suggestion very seriously. Here’s your change.”
I dump it on the counter instead of into his outstretched hand. He mutters something under his breath as he scoops it up, and I smile sweetly rather than engage further. I’m pretty sure he wants to storm out of here, but he has to wait for the coffee Ruby is making.
After another ten minutes, the line is gone. While Ruby makes the last to go drink, I head out from behind the counter and clear tables. I bring everything back as Ruby slumps against the counter.
“Girl, you saved my ass.”
I glance behind her. Whoever is working back there never once stepped out to help.
“That’s Angelo, owners brother. He cooks food, he doesn’t speak to people,” she says it as if she is imitating him. “So, thank you again. You say you’re looking for a job?”
Well, I wasn’t really but, I’ve had more fun here in the last thirty minutes than I’d had all morning at the real estate office. I nod.
“You’ll have to fill out an application.”
I give her a huge smile, then glance at my watch. Shit, lunch was over ten minutes ago.
“When would you need me to start?”
Ruby hands me an application form. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Don’t you need to run checks? I’m new to the area but I’m trustworthy, I know how to work all the machines and the register.”
“Calli, you literally stopped me from committing murder. I’m gonna offer you the job.”
“Great.”
“How about a coffee to seal the deal?”
“Want me to make it?”
She grabs my arm. “Oh, we are so going to be friends.”