Chapter 14 ~ Isabella ~
"T hat's all, ma'am." The burly handyman with a strong Eastern European accent poked his head into the kitchen. "The door lock is fixed now. Luckily, it wasn't as complicated as it looked. So we finished half an hour earlier than expected. You'll be happy to know the bill will be a bit lower than anticipated." He grinned at me.
"Thank you, Mr... uh..."
"Jaruzelski," the handyman helped me out.
"Mr. Jaruzelski," I repeated. "That's really nice. It's great that you could come so quickly too." For that, however, I had to pay an express surcharge, which wasn't exactly small. The few dollars I would save because the repair had gone faster than expected were insignificant in comparison.
I sighed.
Money seemed to be slipping through my fingers these days.
"You'll need to pay right away, please," Mr. Jaruzelski said.
"Now?" I was horrified.
"Of course. That's why it's so cheap." Mr. Jaruzelski shrugged at me. "We agreed on this over the phone. Cash in hand."
Cash in hand? I must have missed that in my excitement. And why was that? Why no invoice?
In the same moment, I understood.
Under-the-table work.
Of course, I didn't say the word out loud. Firstly, I was grateful for the lower prices, and secondly... I couldn't change anything about it now anyway. Even if I had been against under-the-table work, I had already hired Mr. Jaruzelski. I had gotten his name from a business card in the kitchen drawer. Owen had put it there, as he always used to handle hiring handymen. Since he moved out, I'd been trying to do most things myself, more or less successfully. For other things, I had no money. But I couldn't fix the lock myself, so I remembered the address in the kitchen drawer. Owen had apparently hired under-the-table workers.
"Just a moment, please," I said to Mr. Jaruzelski and thought frantically. What should I do? I didn't have that much cash in the apartment.
More precisely: I had no money at all. Nowhere. Neither in the apartment nor in my bank account.
"Please come with me," I said to Mr. Jaruzelski. He obediently followed me down the hall to Hayley's apartment door. I rang the bell. When Hayley opened, I whispered, "Can you lend me 300 dollars? It's really urgent."
Hayley looked at me with a furrowed brow.
"For the handyman," I added.
"No problem," she replied. "I just had to think for a moment if I even had that amount in the house. But you're in luck. I was going to buy that used laptop and withdrew some money for it yesterday." With these words, she disappeared and shortly came back with some bills.
"Now you have to give up on the laptop because of me," I said, feeling guilty.
"I'll still get it. Don't worry about it."
I would have preferred not to take the money, but Mr. Jaruzelski's heavy breathing behind me left me no choice. The Eastern European handyman impatiently snatched the bills from my hand as soon as Hayley had given them to me. In the last few minutes, he must have started to doubt whether I could actually pay the bill. His friendliness, which he had shown just minutes ago, had vanished. He suspiciously counted the money. When he saw that the sum was correct, he said goodbye with a grunt and disappeared as quickly as he could, taking the elevator down.
I thanked Hayley once again.
"Don't mention it," she waved it off. "But now I'm afraid I have to kick you out. I have an urgent appointment soon and need to get ready."
"No problem," I assured her and went back to my apartment.
I had to borrow money. I hated that.
I never wanted to be in such a situation again.
Never again.
Never again should someone have to give up on a purchase because of me.
That was even worse than being the black sheep of the family.
I reached for my phone to make the call I had been putting off since this morning.
As it rang on the other end of the line, I felt my heart beating faster.
"Carter Jenkins." Carter answered in a businesslike tone. Was that intentional? He must know who was calling him. After all, we had exchanged numbers during the accident the day before yesterday.
"Isabella Abbott," I said in a similar tone.
"Yes?" Carter sounded reserved.
I took a deep breath. "If your offer still stands, I accept it."
"Of course it still stands." Carter's tone had changed, but I couldn't quite interpret it. Was he grumpy? In a bad mood? Had I upset him? Had something happened?
"Good," I said and fell silent, somewhat embarrassed. I had no experience in such negotiations. What did one say then? Somehow I was convinced that everything could have been easily settled if we had been standing face to face and I had looked into those bright blue eyes...
"What happens next?" I asked after a moment of silence.
"We'll meet for dinner tonight to discuss some details." Carter now sounded very determined. "You'll only get the money after my brother's wedding is over and everything has gone well. I can tell you that right now."
"The wedding is in a week?" I asked to confirm.
"Exactly."
That was sufficient. My appointment at the bank wasn't until after that.
"No problem," I said. "Where are we meeting tonight?"
"I'll pick you up," Carter replied. "Send me your address. And wear the same dress as the day before yesterday. It looks excellent on you. Just the right shade of green."
"Th...thank you," I stammered, completely taken aback by the unexpected compliment.
"It accentuated all the right places on you." Now Carter's voice sounded... relishing? Dark. Yes, his voice sounded dark and promising. And promptly my body began to tingle. The memory of the day before yesterday excited me.
Would the same thing happen tonight?
What did Carter have in mind?
Isabella Abbott! You know exactly what he has in mind. He wants to have fun. And so do you. You've honestly earned this. Just remember Hayley's advice. Guard your heart.
My heart, however, did what it wanted and not what I wanted. It was beating wildly in my chest.
"See you tonight then," Carter said, now sounding as businesslike as before.
"See you later," I replied. But Carter had already ended the call. My words didn't reach him anymore. Confused, I stared at my phone. First cold, then hot, then cold. What did this mean?
It doesn't matter what it means, Isabella. It's just fun.
I opened WhatsApp and sent Carter my address. Thoughtfully, I stared at the chat window. Why didn't Carter have a woman anyway? I had been so relieved when I found out he was unattached that I hadn't even wondered why that was. Someone like him should have plenty of options. A real fiancée, not a fake one like me.
Suddenly, the answer to this question interested me more than anything else. Could I ask Carter about it tonight?
That's not a good idea, Isabella. IT. IS. JUST. FUN. And therefore, you will leave Carter alone with such questions and not interfere in his private life.
I urgently needed to think about something else.
You could write a few job applications, Isabella. Because even if you have a job now... sooner or later you'll need money again. 50,000 won't last forever. Not even for the entire loan.
I got up from the light gray sofa and went to my small desk. Just as I opened the bottom drawer to take out the laptop, there was a knock at the door. It could only be Hayley. Or?
I quickly ran to the entrance and opened it.
In front of me stood...
... Owen.
My ex. In his ill-fitting suit, with his stubble and his piercing eyes. Why had I never noticed all this before? Hard to believe that I had once found this man attractive.
"Isabella! You're surprised, aren't you?" Owen grinned at me as if we had parted on friendly terms. Or as if we were just old friends who hadn't seen each other in a long time.
"Owen." I tried to regain my composure. "What are you doing here?" I then asked. Since the breakup, I had never seen Owen again. Until the day before yesterday.
"Well, after we saw each other the day before yesterday, I thought: Owen, old boy, it's a shame that you've completely lost touch with Isabella. Why don't you see what she's up to and how she's doing. And here I am." Owen raised his arms and looked at me.
I didn't know what to say.
"Somehow I missed you." Owen laid it on thick. Had he always been this smooth-talking?
Sometimes.
And never without reason.
So he was up to something now too.
"What do you want here?" I asked sharply.
"To check on things. On you. To hear if everything's okay. May I come in?"
I hesitated.
Then I remembered the day before yesterday.
THAT had been the real Owen. The man who had grabbed my arm. Who had threatened me and for whom this apartment was still HIS apartment.
The Owen standing in front of me now was only behaving this way out of calculation. He would never change. And even if he did - I didn't care.
"No, you may not come in. I don't want that."
Owen frowned angrily. I knew it. As soon as I did something he didn't like, his true nature came to the surface again.
"Half of the apartment belongs to me." Owen now looked obstinate.
Ah. So that's where the wind was blowing. I laughed. "You haven't paid anything for this apartment in over a year. If you had contributed to the loan payments, you could claim that half of the apartment belongs to you. But not like this. Transfer the money, then we can talk."
"I urgently need an apartment for a new business venture. So why not this one? You won't need it soon anyway. Your rich guy surely has a nicer apartment."
"Who?" I asked, perplexed.
"Your rich guy. The guy who so chivalrously protected you the day before yesterday."
Carter. Owen was talking about Carter.
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and blush. Admit it, you just wanted to get rid of me to find something better. A guy with more money." Owen stared at me aggressively.
"Me get rid of you?" Anger rose in me. My voice soared to unprecedented heights. "That's rich! You're twisting the facts as always! You cheated on me back then. YOU!"
"And you weren't willing to give me another chance."
"No. Because you didn't even acknowledge your part in the whole affair. You blamed ME for YOUR cheating. You said I neglected you because I was taking an evening class."
"That's how it was. You DID neglect me." Owen crossed his arms and looked at me defiantly.
Suddenly, I felt very tired. I'd already had this discussion. A year ago. I had no desire, absolutely no desire, to have it again. "That still doesn't give you the right to cheat on me. Where would we be if everyone cheated as soon as something about their partner displeased them?"
I didn't expect an answer to my question, and Owen didn't give me one.
"Let me in!" He moved closer to the door. I tried to close it. I didn't quite manage.
"Go away, Owen, and leave me alone."
"Guess you prefer your rich boyfriend."
"Just like you preferred your colleague," it slipped out. "Only we were still together then."
Owen moved closer again.
"Is everything alright, Ms. Abbott?" a voice with an Eastern European accent sounded at that moment.
Mr. Jaruzelski.
"I think so," I said. "This gentleman was just about to leave."
"I forgot my hammer here. It was a good one, not cheap. Could you please check in the kitchen?" Mr. Jaruzelski asked.
"Sure," I replied and hesitated. What should I do now? I didn't want to lock Mr. Jaruzelski out, but if I left the door open, Owen would follow me into the apartment. And I definitely didn't want that.
"I'd be happy to escort the gentleman to the elevator," Mr. Jaruzelski unexpectedly offered. He must have noticed that I wanted to get rid of Owen. I looked at the handyman gratefully.
He nodded at me and squeezed himself next to Owen, who suddenly looked small beside the handyman's massive body.
I closed the door and went to the kitchen. There was the hammer on the countertop. I hadn't even noticed it earlier. Mr. Jaruzelski seemed to be as forgetful as I was. That and his decisive behavior towards Owen immediately made him likable to me again.
When I opened the apartment door again, Owen was gone. Only Mr. Jaruzelski stood before me, waiting patiently.
"Thank you so much," I said.
"No problem," the handyman replied and nodded at me once more. For a moment, I regretted that I had no money left. I couldn't even thank Mr. Jaruzelski for his help with a tip.
I closed the door again and was suddenly very glad that I had changed the locks right after Owen moved out. It hadn't been cheap. But it had significantly contributed to my feeling of security.
I shook my head.
I didn't want to think about Owen anymore.
That wouldn't be too difficult either.
The thought of Carter was much more interesting.
My heart did that strange leap again, the one it always did whenever I saw Carter or thought about him or heard from him.
Or when he touched me.