Chapter Twelve
Ailee
“Hello, Ailee. Here.”
I lift my head from the phone and see Zoe holding out a bottle of water.
“Oh, thank you!” I take a long, grateful swallow.
“You’re a lifesaver.” My throat feels so much better already.
It’s been parched—I haven’t had a drop since leaving the building.
The morning air is slightly cool, the acrid scent of burned concrete and belongings lingering like a miasma.
Who would’ve guessed a building this tall could go up in flames so quickly?
It’s almost like somebody doused the whole structure with gallons of gasoline.
The fire also consumed a couple of smaller buildings near the apartment, but the firefighters managed to get it under control and kill it.
“You look a bit dazed,” Zoe says before sipping her own water and pulling the lapels of her bathrobe tighter against the morning chill. She tilts her jaw at my phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just texted my roommate, then called the office to let them know I’m not coming in today.
” I look down at myself. I’m in mismatched shoes—one coral flip-flop and one black sandal—and an old white T-shirt and boxer shorts with red and pink hearts, no bra.
I cross my arms across my chest and try not to worry too much about work.
Josh ended the call so abruptly, like he’s really upset. He has certain habits he sticks to—starts his laptop and reviews a doc or two, then has me lay out his day and update him on any changes while he sips the iced latte I bring from the break room.
Or maybe he’s upset that I was so late to call him.
I should’ve been at work an hour ago. But I was in absolute shock, having witnessed the entire twelve-story building go up in flames.
Now I know why people remain frozen when they’re faced with a certain unimaginable danger.
Your brain just gives up on you, like it’s too overwhelmed to process.
The sprinkler system apparently failed. The smoke alarms didn’t work either.
The elevator quit operating—for good reason, since it probably wasn’t safe.
If Zoe hadn’t banged on my door when she did, I might’ve been stuck on the fourth floor until the fire trucks arrived to get people out.
Then I would’ve really been hurt, enough that I might not have been able to call work at all.
Zoe said she couldn’t sleep and was reading some romance novel when she smelled the smoke and grabbed me.
Now I feel like I owe her a lifetime’s worth of romance novels.
The EMT didn’t even check us out, since Zoe and I were among the first group of people to evacuate. But my throat feels scratchy from being near the burning fire and not having had anything to drink for hours.
“Do you have a place to stay?” Zoe asks, her eyes shifting to the husk of the building.
“I guess… I’ll figure something out. You?”
“My company’s arranging for a hotel until I can find a new place.”
“That’s nice,” I murmur. I should probably find somewhere to crash. My parents’ place is out of the question—they’re still furious about what happened yesterday evening. Mom’s final text read: You’re such a disgrace. Always wanting what isn’t yours, rather than working to get what you can.
It’s like, what does that even mean? I’ve never wanted what wasn’t mine, and I’ve worked hard for everything I have.
The day I turned eighteen was the day my parents asked me to move out and make my own way in the world.
And I did, by getting an associate’s degree while waiting tables, and then a full-time job as soon as I was able.
“If you need anything, let me know,” Zoe says kindly.
“Of course. Thanks, Zoe. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
She waves it away. “Just being neighborly. Anyway, I have to get going. I’ll talk to you later.”
I wave her goodbye and sigh, then scan the surroundings.
A lot of people are still milling around, dazed because of what they’ve lost. There are exhausted firefighters covered in soot, buzzing cops and EMTs.
Ambulances for the elderly and those who inhaled too much smoke while trapped inside.
A few local reporters breathlessly speak to their cameras while keeping the charred, still-smoldering structure in the background.
I open the news app on my phone. Articles and videos about the apartment fire are already trending locally.
At least nobody died, thank God. No known cause for the fire yet.
I sigh. At least my car’s safe in a lot several blocks away.
I couldn’t find a spot any closer, so maybe the universe was watching out for me.
The problem is that I don’t have the fob. I only grabbed my phone before rushing down the stairs with Zoe. My laptop’s gone, too.
I place a couple of fingers on my forehead. Shit. There were a couple half-finished memos for Josh on the hard drive, which I hadn’t had a chance to back up.
Okay, I’ve got some time before he arrives.
And my first order of business is to make a to-do list on my phone: find a cheap motel or somewhere like that to stay at.
File an insurance claim—hopefully they’ll be quick to reimburse, but I have no idea how that’s going to go.
I’ve never had to get money out of a renter’s insurance policy before. Usually it just flows from me to them.
I need to figure out what’s going to happen with my security deposit. Hopefully the property management company returns it as soon as possible—Max and I will need it for our next rental.
But the very first thing is to go shopping and at least replace my clothes and shoes and all the basics.
I don’t even have a toothbrush right now.
I also have to call the banks and see about getting my credit cards and ATM card reissued.
Or will that mess up my Apple Pay account?
Maybe I should find a local branch for my bank and withdraw some cash.
That way I’ll be able to get by until the new cards arrive—
The more I think about it, the more overwhelming everything seems. The only good thing is that I haven’t lost anything that can’t be replaced.
All my personal photos are stored in the cloud.
My high school year book is toast, but it isn’t going to break my heart.
Hopefully Max didn’t lose anything irreplaceable, either.
My stomach growls. I probably should get something to eat. The leftover lasagna last night was smaller than I thought.
A golden Lexus rushes into the compound, way too fast and with lots of tire screeching. I scowl. What’s Chad doing here?
The sedan stops several feet behind a fire truck.
The door swings open, and Chad steps out.
He’s in a suit with a neatly knotted tie, the picture of success.
So apparently his wife didn’t murder him last night.
He’s even wearing an irritatingly smug smile.
What I wouldn’t give to strip that arrogant smirk off his face, especially since I’m standing here in an old T-shirt and boxers.
And mismatched sandals. My hair’s likely a mess, too, after our sudden, before-sunrise evacuation.
He stares at the burned husk of the building. “Holy shit, that’s fucking karma,” he says, then covers his mouth with a fist as he cackles.
Oh my God. His lack of humanity makes me want to squirm in shame—why did I ever say yes to his proposal? I need to learn to be a better judge of people. “What are you doing here, Chad?”
His eyes swing in my direction. He parts his mouth, then points at me and laughs. “What the hell? What’s up with the hair?”
“Didn’t really have the time to worry about it when the apartment caught fire,” I say dryly. “Kinda like how you didn’t have the mental capacity to keep up with your lies when I ran into your pregnant wife.”
The mocking chuckle dies. “That was all your fault. You weren’t supposed to be at the restaurant. You said you don’t eat Chinese food!”
“So. Are you telling me you took your wife to Peking Town because you thought you wouldn’t run into me?”
“Well, that and a good meal, obviously. I’m not stupid.”
I give him a slow clap. “Wow. Not mentally challenged, just morally challenged. And a liar, to boot.”
He sniffs. “I didn’t lie. I just omitted a few facts.”
“Uh-huh. That’s still lying.”
“Well, do you blame me? Didn’t you see what Autumn looks like?” Disgust twists his mouth.
What’s wrong with his wife? The biggest mistake that poor woman made was probably marrying him.
My bewilderment seems to piss him off. “She’s like a freakin’ cow now! It isn’t much fun trying to have sex with somebody that big. Hard to get it up.”
What the…? My jaw drops.
“Which is why I went for you.”
“You think your wife, whose belly is swollen with your baby, is disgusting? For real?” My voice grows shrill with anger and humiliation for me and his poor wife. We both really deserve better.
“No!” he protests, although his tone says, Yes.
Maybe he realizes that he made himself sound like an asshole when I laid it out like that.
“I just wanted to be nice. It was a service to humanity—actually to you. You don’t have self-esteem, no self-worth.
For you, being with someone like me is a dream come true.
A boost to your self-respect. I could tell you only tried to distance yourself from me because you wanted to force me to make some commitment.
Anyway, the sense of accomplishment from being with someone like me will linger and improve your future prospects, even after I quietly dump you when my wife delivers the baby and snaps back into shape. ”
The gall! I’ve run into some self-absorbed clients at work, but Chad takes the gold medal in the Narcissism Olympics. “I should murder you just for saying that,” I say between clenched teeth.
“Ah, you don’t mean that. You’re a good girl.” He says “good girl” like it means “doormat.” He extends his arms as though to place them on my shoulders, and I recoil. He frowns, but doesn’t try to touch me again. “Look, you need to give me the ring back. And apologize to my wife.”
“Me?” I point to myself. “Apologize to your wife? For what? For being deceived by her dickhead husband who lied to me that he was single?”
Chad doesn’t have the grace to blush. But then, if he knew what shame was, he wouldn’t have done what he did.
“For creating unnecessary emotional distress. Just tell her you stole the ring when you saw it in my office because it looked too pretty to resist. And hey, I’ll let you stay at my downtown condo for free for a week because I like you and”—he gestures—“your place burned down. But you can’t let Autumn know. ”
He stops and gives me a soulful look that’s as fake as a fifty-dollar Gucci bag on a shady website. My blood pressure shoots up so high, my vision turns red.
Sadly, he seems oblivious. He folds his arms over his chest. “I still have feelings for you, Ailee. I’m not a complete asshole.”
“Of course not.” I lay the sarcasm on thick. “Just a cheating, lying dickface.”
“It’s going to be awkward if I have to call the police for the theft.”
“I’d love to see you try because I’m not giving back an heirloom from my fiancé,” I say with a faux-sweet smile.
Chad scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way Josh proposed for real. When did he have the chance? I proposed two nights ago, and you said yes. And even if you hadn’t, you’re a C-minus lay. Why would he want to be tied to you for life?”
My hands shake with the urge to strangle this asshole to death. I’d love to come up with a killer retort, but—frustratingly—I have nothing. Chad’s right about one thing—the engagement isn’t real. Josh only said what he did yesterday because he felt sorry for me.
Chad seems to understand that instinctively.
He smirks. “You know what? If you can convince that insufferable asshole to stay with you for at least three months, you can keep the ring. I’ll even throw in an apology.
But otherwise, you’re going to return the ring to my wife and tell her you took it.
If you grovel, I’ll even convince her to not involve the police.
Help you out, because I’m sure a criminal conviction would mean no more job at the law firm. ”
His sanctimonious tone goads me until I feel like I’m about to spontaneously combust. “Fine,” I snap before I can stop myself.
He starts laughing. “You’re going to lose so bad. I can’t wait to see you beg for mercy. Not even your hot tamale sister could lock Josh into a committed relationship. He’ll dump you before the sun’s down tomorrow. Then you’ll learn where you rank.”
I bite my lip. Although Katt made up her dating history with Josh, he’s dated plenty of gorgeous women without settling down with any of them. He could snap his fingers and have models falling at his feet.
There’s a sudden, small thwack. Chad grabs the back of his head. “Ow!”
“Oops, I missed,” comes Josh’s voice. He tosses a small pebble in the air and catches it.
I cover my eyes with a hand, wishing for a sinkhole to appear right under my feet. Just how much of Chad’s crap did my boss hear?
Chad spins around, his fists raised aggressively, like he’s ready to pounce. “I’m going to fuck you up!”