Twenty-Four
“A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”
~Eleanor Roosevelt
It was probably the most heartbreaking decision Nadia ever made, but it was her only choice if she wanted to salvage what was left of her pride and find some independence again. Her landlord slid the check across the desk and her stomach bottomed out as she reached for it.
“Thank you. I left the metal desk and moved the old bench to the curb. Someone will probably take it before the trash men do.”
“I wish you luck, Nadia.”
“Thank you, for the luck and for all the times you’ve been patient when I needed a few extra days to make my rent.”
Her landlord grinned, his veneers flashing an unnatural white against his deep hickory skin. “I know what it’s like to start a business in a foreign place. Not always easy.”
That was the truth. She felt empty-handed as she left her landlord’s office. It was as if she literally put down her dreams to make room for a more practical future.
She’d contacted all of her clients that morning, trying hard to disguise her tears as each parent asked why she was closing so suddenly.
She couldn’t offer a professional explanation, so she simply promised a reimbursement and an invitation to join her at the new studio that should be opening in a few months.
She took a cab to Reflections Gym and found Steve with a woman working her thighs. Hanging back, she observed his mannerisms and how hard he pushed the client. He had sizable knowledge about what machines worked which part of the body, and a presence that backed up his credibility.
When he was finished, he noticed her and smiled. “Nadia. When did you get here?”
“About twenty minutes ago. You’re good at what you do.”
“Thanks. Come back to my office. I’ll split my lunch with you.”
She followed him to the back and accepted half his turkey wrap as they settled around the desk. “How’d you make out today? Any word from Elliot?”
She was trying not to think about Elliot because every time he entered her mind she felt sick—more so because he still hadn’t called.
“No.” She finished the last bite of her wrap and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “I closed my studio today.”
He stilled, his eyes growing wide. “What?”
She shrugged, holding back the urge to scream and cry at the awful doubts scraping her insides raw. “It would have happened eventually anyway. My roster was too light and it was costing me too much. So I’m going to find work somewhere else for the time being until we open the studio here.”
“Nadia…” His brow pinched. “They haven’t accepted my offer yet.”
“But … they will. You said you put in a bid.”
“Yes, a bid.” Worry flashed in his eyes, sending the claws of doubt deeper into her stomach. “I wish you had told me your plans.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it. Has anyone else put a bid in for the property?” Swallowing, she ignored the pinch of panic. “It doesn’t matter. Something will work out.”
It made her situation a lot more precarious, but knowing this information didn’t change the tough choice she had to make today.
Numbers didn’t lie and she could either afford shelter or her studio.
Having both was no longer an option. Right now, her best solution was to find a good paying job, make some fast money, and get herself a new place to live.
“I won’t know anything for a few more days.”
“Well … hopefully, they accept your offer. If that doesn’t pan out, then my clients will just have to move on. I’ll move on, too.”
“You can teach here a few nights a week. The other girls have kickboxing and Zumba covered, but maybe you could manage a jazzercise class.”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t her first choice, but she was done being picky. “Let me know what nights and I’ll be here.”
“I will, but it won’t bring in more than a hundred bucks a week. I’m sorry I can’t offer more.”
“I have other options. I think I could flip burgers if it got me out of this rut, so anything remotely related to my field is a blessing.”
“Do you still need a place to stay?”
“I found an apartment in my budget and I’m going to look at it today. But I can’t afford to be picky. I got my deposit back on the studio, so that helps.”
“Well, if you need anything…”
She stood, the temptation of simple, temporary solutions something she needed to overcome. “I just wanted to come by and thank you for last night. I’m heading over to Maple Crest Village now to meet the landlord.”
His gaze held too much concern and she hated taking responsibility for putting worry there. Before he could voice another offer, she said, “Call me about the dance classes when you figure out a schedule.”
“I will. And you call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
As she walked across the parkway to the apartments, she ignored the uncomfortable weightlessness she felt. Her life was once nailed down, both feet on the ground, and now she felt utterly untethered—untied—insignificant enough to blow away under the slightest breeze.
The Maple Crest apartments weren’t glamorous, but they were affordable. She signed a lease for a second story efficiency and wrote a check before the money was in her account to clear it. By the time she made it to the bank, it was dark.
It seemed like the longest day of her life, and it wasn’t anywhere close to finished. The silver lining was she was finally making productive decisions in her life. They weren’t the best, but they were productive.
She stopped at a discount store and purchased some necessities along with a few boxed meals. When she got back to the apartment, she switched out a few light bulbs and showered.
As she wiped the steam away from the mirror, she couldn’t manage a smile. This was her reality and it was just fine. It would afford shelter over her head and food in her belly, and soon enough she’d be back on her feet, able to invest in her dreams once more.
Unzipping her makeup case, she pulled out her pallet of colors and went heavy, false lashes and smoky shadow. Next was her hair. She used all the volumizing products she owned and blew it out to twice the normal size.
Rummaging through her bag, she found her nicest lace bra and matching panties. What she put on top didn’t really matter, but she went with her red dress—the one she’d worn the first night she had drinks with Elliot.
Her motions slowed as she dragged the material through her fingers, her mind turning back to that evening. Things had gone so terrible and then he’d shown up, rescuing her and amusing her with his delightful magic tricks.
Her lashes flickered, the weight reminding her that her makeup was done and she couldn’t afford to get emotional right now. Sniffing, she lifted her chin and finished getting ready.
The cab showed up as she slid into her five-inch heels, her legs trembling with uncertainty as she locked the door. Directing the driver was a distraction, but as the taxi neared her destination her nerves returned with a vengeance. What if this was just another mistake?
You can do this. You can do anything for a little while. Do this now and you’ll be able to afford your pride later.
Her pep talk was enough to keep the contents of her stomach down, but nothing stopped her palms from sweating. She checked her phone again, disappointed but not surprised Elliot hadn’t called.
Her biggest problem was waiting for men to save her. She had no hope for little boys. Using the corner of her nail, she switched the ringer to silence and put the phone back in her bag.
When the cab parked, her breath shook and her fingers trembled as she passed the driver the fare. Maybe she should ask him to wait? Her appointment might tell her to leave the minute he saw her.
No. She was being stupid. She could do this and she had her phone to call for a ride home once it was over. She thanked the driver and stepped out of the cab.
Though she never set foot in this establishment before, she’d passed it several times. Its reputation spoke for itself.
A broad-shouldered man stood beside the interior doors. Bass pumped loud enough to rattle the walls and everything was dim. The doorman arched a brow the moment he noticed her.
“Do you know where I can find Joey C?” she asked.
His gaze drifted to her shoes and back to her breasts. “Are you Nadia?”
“Yes.”
He pushed open the doors and pointed. “Past the stage, down the hall, last door on the right. I’m Big Z.”
“Thank you, Big Z.” The stench of booze and lust left a cool sweat on her skin as she took her first step into the next chapter of her life.