Chapter 23
When I walked up to the third floor, dodging a few mice and some paper bags that looked very suspect, I found Sabrina standing outside of her door wearing a parka and holding two steaming, disposable cups.
“What’s that?” I asked, wrapping my arms around my middle, trying to keep my body heat in my thin coat.
I was considering, not for the first time, ripping open the seams of the paltry coat and shoving the matted polyester filling from my pillows into the lining for warmth. The flat pillows rarely kept me comfortable anyway. Maybe they could have a new life keeping me from freezing to death.
Why had I been so stubborn as to leave Harrison’s coat behind at the office?
“Hot chocolate from the café down the block,” she said. “Landlord douche-face turned on the electric but now is claiming the heat is broken, and I was too cold to stand there to make the good stuff.”
“It looks hot, so it already is the good stuff. The chocolate is just a bonus at this point.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. You want to tell me what happened?”
“No, not even a little bit,” I said, moving past her to unlock the door to my apartment.
I looked around and realized for the first time that maybe this was where I belonged. Going from the luxury apartment to this made me realize how bad this place really was. I had always known it was horrible, and that when Harrison saw it, he would see me differently. But just a taste of what life could have been like was enough to see my reality in a new light.
This apartment wasn’t a stepping stone. It was exactly where I was meant to be, in the filth with all of the other people who put their pleasures above common sense and the needs of others.
This was what I deserved, and the fact that I had deluded myself enough to think anything else was just pathetic.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?” Sabrina asked, handing me the paper cup of hot chocolate.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I just can’t talk about it right now.” I took a deep breath and set my bag on the floor in front of the mattress that made my back hurt.
“Take a sip of your hot chocolate,” she said.
I assumed she was telling me to try some new amazing seasonal flavor like white chocolate peppermint or something festive. Instead, I was assaulted by the stringent taste of vodka.
“What the fuck?” I gasped after I just managed to swallow it.
“I only had enough spare change for one hot chocolate, so I asked for two cups, and I figured you’d need a drink, so… I improvised.”
I took another sip, this time not choking because I knew what to expect. I let the warmth of the melted chocolate, fueled by the heat of the alcohol, warm me from the inside out.
“It was a good call,” I said, “but next time, how about a little bit of a warning? And maybe whiskey or rum instead?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She gave me an impish grin.
“Sadist,” I mumbled into my cup before taking another sip.
“Maybe,” Sabrina said, stroking her chin like she was thinking about the possibility that she was, in fact, a sadist, making us both laugh.
“So, are you going to tell me about the guy?” she asked.
“Not right now. I’m still too sober,” I lamented.
“Well, I actually have a shift in about fifteen minutes.” This time her smile was half-hearted. “So, sadly, yours is the only hot chocolate that is spiked.”
“Sabrina, if you have to go to work, then go to work. You don’t need to babysit me. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
“All evidence to the contrary, sweet cheeks,” she said, taking another long sip from her own cup.
“I don’t see how you are much better. You are living in the same infected, cold, damp, Dark Ages hellhole I am.”
“I’m still better at adulting.”
“How do you figure that?” I scoffed.
“I have a bed frame, which means I am a more adultier adult. Therefore, I win.”
She had a very valid point.
“Now, Reader’s Digest version of the boy in question. Do I get to sharpen my knives? Do I need to sharpen my knives?”
We sat there in silence for a moment while I considered what I could tell her, what I should tell her, and what I wanted to tell her.
Part of me wanted to lay it all out and let her be my judge, jury, and executioner.
Sabrina, although absolutely amazing, had had her share of run-ins with unfaithful men. It seemed like the culinary industry was more polluted with liars, cheaters, and assholes than the criminal justice system.
Or maybe it was just that people everywhere sucked.
I didn’t know anymore. All I knew was that I definitely wasn’t above it.
I thought about telling her about the swanky apartment Harrison had put me in, about how he had talked to our landlord, and that I was probably going to have to find a new place to live as soon as he bothered to get off his ass to file eviction paperwork.
The sad part was my landlord didn’t even need to file eviction paperwork. He could just call the police because while I had a subleasing agreement, he hadn’t exactly agreed to it and I wasn’t on the lease.
“Can you at least tell me who the guy is?” Sabrina asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What guy?”
“The one you spent the night with last night. The boys downstairs said that some rich asshole yelled at the landlord and threatened him if he didn’t get the power back on, then carried you out of here like a sack of potatoes. They joked that it was the first time they’d seen a body being carried out of here while it was still kicking and screaming.”
“That was my boss,” I said. “He didn’t like that I was staying at a place without heat. Apparently, he’s convinced the case we’re working on is the biggest of his career.”
“Okay, so then why was he here, and how did he know you didn’t have heat?”
“I wasn’t answering my phone because it was dead, so he came to ask a question, and he got all uppity because it’s an election year. And apparently, if his paralegal is so underpaid that she freezes to death while working for him, it might look bad.”
“Right…” Sabrina gave me that look, that signature Sabrina I am squinting at you and trying to see if I am buying your bullshit look.
“Yeah, he’s one of those trust fund babies.” I shrugged. “And I think his opponent is middle class and trying to use his family money against him. So he’s worried that his opponent will say that he’s not paying me enough and that he’s profiting off my suffering blah blah blah, which is stupid. He doesn’t pay me. The taxpayers do. Even lowly paralegals are public servants that work for the government.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Sabrina shrugged, then took another sip of her hot chocolate. “So, is that where you were last night? At his place?”
“No, that would be wildly inappropriate.” I laughed and stared into my already perfectly stirred hot chocolate to avoid eye contact.
“He’s also engaged. I spent last night at an apartment that is used for witness protection,” I lied.
Wow, I guessed when a person headed down the path to hell, the rest of the vices started coming easy, like lying to my best friend.
“He let me just stay the night, thinking the heat and electric would be back on today. Clearly, he was wrong, but I think they are probably moving someone into that apartment tonight.” I shrugged. “It was nice while it lasted.” I took another pull from the very boozy chocolate.
Sabrina nodded and stood up, heading toward the door.
“Well, I have to get to work but before that I’m dropping off some stuff at my sister’s. I’m going to stay there until the heat is back on. Want to come with? We can take turns sharing the sofa. With lots of blankets, the floor isn’t too bad.”
“I’m good. Tell your sister I said hi,” I called out to her retreating back. She waved to me without turning around, to indicate she heard.
I finished my drink, the rich chocolate and cheap vodka swirling in my stomach and staving off some of my hunger, at least. I hadn’t had lunch or dinner.
It was early, but I didn’t have any food. The heat was still off, so I figured the best thing I could do was to build myself a cocoon of blankets to keep warm and just go to sleep and deal with tomorrow when tomorrow came.
I crawled into bed, still dressed in my work clothes, not willing to risk the brittle cold to get naked and put on more cozy pajamas.
* * *
I didn’t knowhow long I’d been asleep when my head started pounding.
I knew we could only afford the cheap vodka, which meant the hangover was going to be brutal. It took a moment for me to realize the pounding wasn’t coming from my head. It was coming from my front door.
The door was locked, the chain was secure, and I was not getting out of my cocoon of blankets.
I may not have been super warm, but I was at least warmer than I would be outside of my nest of blankets. Just sticking one toe out told me that the apartment was frigid and I needed to stay exactly where I was. Whoever was at the door would get bored and go away eventually, I told myself as I closed my eyes and buried my head under the pillow, hoping to muffle the sound.
The pounding didn’t stop.
It slowed down but got harder, like whoever was trying to get my attention wasn’t knocking anymore but throwing themselves against the door.
Once. Twice. By the third time, there was a sickening crack.
I looked up to see what was left of my door falling into the room inches from my face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I sat up instantly, regretting the cold air that hit my back as my heat bubble popped.
“What am I doing?” Harrison asked, stepping into the apartment. “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to wait for me. I told you not to leave the office.”
“Well, your fiancée came and said you had dinner plans, so I figured I should just go home,” I lied, again.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your fiancée showed up at the office today demanding to know where you were because she wanted to make sure you’re available for dinner and to drop off the wedding invitations and announcement for your approval. I left them on Cynthia’s desk, so if there’s nothing else.” I lay back down and pulled the blankets over me.
“Why did you come back here? Why didn’t you at least go back to the apartment I gave you?”
“Because this is where I live. This is who I am, and pretending to be some Fifth Avenue princess is just going to make it that much harder when I have to come back here. Assuming you don’t get me evicted first? In which case, I need to start looking for a nice, comfortable cardboard box. Have any of your rich friends recently bought a refrigerator?”
“Get up. I’m taking you back to the apartment.”
“How would your fiancée feel if she knew that you were fucking your paralegal? I would say at least it’s not as cliche as fucking your secretary, but she doesn’t know the difference.”
“Honestly, she shouldn’t care,” he said. “I’ve repeatedly told you. Our engagement isn’t a romantic one. It’s just business.”
“Does she know that?” I asked.
“I don’t give a fuck what she knows or doesn’t know. It’s a business arrangement. I need you there, where you’re safe and aren’t going to die of hypothermia.”
I snorted. “And where you have easy access to my pussy. No thanks. You need to leave.” I pulled the covers up over my head.
“Absolutely. Finally, we are in agreement. Get your ass up, and we will leave.”
“You need to leave without me.” I poked my head back out. “I refuse to be some side chick that you’re fucking and cheating on your fiancée with.”
“It’s not cheating when she and I are not in a romantic relationship, but fine, we don’t have to have sex. That’s fine. Deny how much you want me all you like. Fucking me is not a stipulation of you being in that apartment. Get your ass up, and let’s go. I’m hungry. I want food and to actually eat somewhere where I’m not going to have to fight off cockroaches the size of dogs for a slice of pizza.”
“I’m not going with you, Mr. Astrid.”
“Really, we’re back to that?” He started to pace around my tiny apartment. He would take two steps in one direction and have to turn around again. It would have been funny if his being here didn’t hurt.
“Apparently,” I quipped. I looked down at the floor to where the pieces of my door were lying and sat straight up. “How am I supposed to keep this place warm now that you broke my door?” I screamed.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but it actually got warmer after I broke the door. Get up. We’re leaving now.”
“No.” I dug my nails into one of the blankets, trying to keep myself from doing something stupid, like taking a swing at him or throwing myself into his arms.
“Get up now, or I will pick you up and drag you out of here again.”
“Leave.”
“Fine,” he said.
I thought that meant that he was going to leave, so I lay back down to try to find some warmth in my little nest of bedding.
Instead, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.