Chapter 23
Pajamas? Check. A bowl of ice cream with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate sauce? Check. The money Anderson owes me? Pfft. Like that’s gonna happen. Depression is far easier to come by than my fee.
I should have known. Flicking through Netflix on my bed while trying to keep my hair out of my ice cream is a challenge, but it’s worth the effort, unlike other recent challenges. I’m pissed and poor and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’m wallowing.
It’s not fair. But I’ve always known life isn’t fair. It wasn’t when I was a kid, and it’s not fair now. One thumbnail blends into another—it’s all horror, so the thumbnails are some version of a dark background and spooky lettering with a woman who is either in trouble or she is the trouble herself. Why is it horror, which is so often lauded for being empowering to women, is also the genre that kills the most of them?
Life isn’t fair, even in movies.
Ugh. I push my iPad away and dig into the ice cream. At least that never lets me down. Sweet, creamy flawlessness. This one is peanut butter, perfect for chocolate toppings. I don’t care what anyone says. Ice cream may not fix my life, but it will fix my mood for the moment.
Still, my head swirls around one question, no matter how much ice cream I shovel in. How could I have been so stupid as to believe Anderson West about anything?
He hasn’t called. It’s been three days, and he hasn’t fucking called.
So, I called out from work. I am in no condition to see other people. Not when I feel like such an idiot. I can’t be my sparkling work self while I feel sorry for myself. It just doesn’t work that way in my head.
It’s funny how angry you can be when you don’t get something you never expected in the first place.
I had never thought I’d be able to quit my job so early, and then this shiny opportunity falls in my lap—or rather, I fell in Anderson’s—and I’d thought all my dreams were coming true. God, I’m an idiot. Of course, it was a fucking scam. I don’t know how he did it. The elaborate nature of it all is boggling me, but he did it, and I am furious.
And for all my fury, what do I have to show for it? Chocolate sauce on my sweatshirt and my hair springing out in every direction.
I’ve already harassed him at work, so I’m pretty sure I can’t just show up there again without security bouncing my ass out. Once again, I’m the butt of his joke and he got the last laugh. It makes my blood boil, and there is nothing to be done with the steam.
Just like every other time he made fun of me, I have to swallow this down and move on. Only, I don’t want to. I want to sue the fucker. And I can’t. Because there is no way to go through legal channels. And when I contact the Chamberlain Mansion, they act like I’m insane until I give up.
The rich get to play by different rules, and they always will.
As much as I love the thought of starting a photography business, that pipe dream is dying in my heart, because now I want to start a business that helps the little guy get what he’s owed from the big guy. I want to level the playing field for all of us who have been screwed over and don’t have a leg to stand on. The farmer who gets sued for copyright infringement because patented crops blew onto his field. The small time business owner forced to take the fall for a mobster just to keep his family safe. Farm workers exposed to deadly pesticides. All the little people who need someone in their corner.
A text startles me out of my Robin Hood fantasy. It’s Callie, open the door.
I roll my eyes, tuck my ice cream between two pillows, and get the door. She’s still in her work clothes and looks amazing. I love the girl, but god, I hate her for that. “Hey, Cal?—”
“Hey, Cal? Seriously? That’s what you have to say to me?” She brushes past me. “Where’s the ice cream?”
“What makes you think?—”
“The chocolate sauce on your sweatshirt, dingus.”
“Hiding behind the frozen peas.”
She huffs and goes to the freezer. “Neither Ben nor Jerry is a substitute for a boyfriend, June.”
“Toss that in the trash and I will set your hair on fire.”
She giggles. “Fine.” Closing the freezer drawer, she turns to face me. “But put on real clothes. We’re going out.”
“I can’t go out. I’m sick.”
“You are perfectly fine. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”
I stare directly into her eyes and let out the world’s most feeble cough.
“I will flatiron your hair within an inch of your life if you don’t get dressed right this instant.”
Whining, I flop my way to my bedroom and she follows. “But why?”
“Because you need to be among other humans, and don’t look at me like that. If you roll your eyes any harder, they will stick that way.”
“Other humans are the ones who got me into this mess.”
“No, it was one human. And he’s an asshole. And if I can work my connections in the Chamberlain Mansion to get them to blacklist him, then I will. But it’s a tricky situation, so that will take time. Meanwhile, you need to get out and see that not every man is a gigantic jerk. We are going to Leonard’s, so you can meet eligible, hot men with jobs and maturity.”
“Can’t do it,” I tell her firmly as I dive back into my ice cream. “By eligible, hot men with jobs and maturity, you mean lawyers because Leonard’s is a lawyer bar, and I am fucking done with lawyers.”
“You are a lawyer.”
“Which is exactly how I know I’m done with them.”
She plops onto the end of my bed and steals my spoon so she can have a bite. “That is spectacular. But it’s not better than sex. Remember sex, June?”
“You mean the thing that got me into this mess in the first place?”
Her eyes glaze with sympathy, and there’s a tiny part of me that wants to smack her for it. “You got burned. Let’s not sugarcoat it. But that doesn’t mean you give up on happiness. Or having a life. Anderson has already taken so much from you. Do you want to give him that, too?”
Click. All of a sudden, everything she just said makes something in my brain align. “Holy shit. You’re fucking brilliant.”
“Thank you for finally seeing?—”
“No, I’m serious, Callie. I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I’ve been needy and pissed off and so angry that I couldn’t see straight, so that’s probably why I’ve been looking at this all wrong, but holy crap, I’ve been letting the same bastard, who ruined my childhood, also ruin my adulthood. This is ridiculous. Fuck that guy. Give me five minutes and I’m out the door with you.”
On my way to the shower, I hear, “Take ten and do something with your hair.”
“You got it.” Turning the water to full hot, I strip faster than I ever have. Hatred is fuel, and my tank is topped off. The shower scalds, and I don’t care. I’ve got a few days of filth to deal with. I scrub myself clean, nearly taking a layer of skin with the dirt. Every whoosh of my loofah is fueled by the fury of righteous anger.
Can’t start a revenge business without getting out of the house. Those lawyers she wants me to meet? They can all help me get my business off the ground. Callie might want me to meet my next Mr. Right Now, but I’m thinking co-counsel.
I got screwed. Then I got screwed over. Now, I’m getting revenge.