Chapter 3
CARLIE
“Can you start right away? Lord knows this place could use some help,” Serelle, the founder and head of Serenity House, a women’s shelter, asks. Her smile is genuine.
My need for this job even more so.
“Absolutely. I’m so excited to use my experience and skills to make a difference here.”
“Wonderful! There may be some marketing involved, as well, but I’m sure you can handle it.” She stands. “I’ll give you the grand tour. Is tomorrow good for your onboarding?”
Marketing. I haven’t got the first clue on how to put together a marketing campaign for a business like this one. Do we even call it a business? “Of course.”
Her phone rings, and she hesitates. “Shoot, that’ll be my next interview.”
“I don’t understand?” I ask. She just gave me the job.
“Our business manager quit last week, and we can’t afford to let anything slip. Margins are tight this time of year and with our current contracts, etc.”
“Oh, sure.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as she picks up the receiver and talks softly. God, the last thing I could take would be losing another freaking job. As it is, I’m going to have to allocate twenty-five percent of my wage to Mills. Luckily, she was happy moving in with me after Carlson . . .
We’ve lived together before. Not long after we first met.
“Sorry about this. I’ll find Nadia to show you around while I take this next appointment,” Serelle says, plucking up the phone again before hitting a button.
I glance around her office from my vantage point at her door. Her shelves are packed with treasures of a life well-traveled. Her sleeveless light-green linen dress hangs off her wiry frame. Her light brown curly hair is like a cloud around her head and shoulders, lined with streaks of silver.
Kind eyes find mine, and she gives me a sweet smile as she hangs up. “Right, about tomorrow, you will have onboarding with whoever I hire today. Along with Nadia, she does all the intakes.”
“What time do you need me here?”
“Oh, half eight should be good. Nadia, will you show Carlie to the executive office, please?”
A meek petite, curly haired brunette with oversized glasses appears in the hall, as if she’d anticipated this. “Yes, hello, I’m Nadia.” She holds out a hand, beaming.
I shake her hand and feel like some kind of Amazonian giant standing beside her in my four-inch heels.
Her weathered tweed skirt suit makes me feel overdressed.
I offer her a tight smile, and she nods, walking down the hall.
We pass the foyer where I first arrived and walk past the front desk.
Two guys in suits sit in the plastic chairs, both looking down, both engrossed.
One with his phone, the other with a tattered paperback.
Neither look up as I cross the small room and follow Nadia into the office.
A long corridor dotted with plain white doors flanks us and I take in my surroundings as much as I can as she prattles on about the facilities.
Copy and supply room to the left.
Break room to the right.
Social workers and a therapists’ suite take up the rest of the doors on the left, which takes us to the end of the corridor that opens up to a large open office floor space.
“Sorry, it’s a little crowded.” She offers up an apologetic smile as we weave through a sea of desks where staff are currently working. They look up as I walk through, nodding with tight smiles.
“Hi,” says an older man, balding with suspicious light blue eyes and a crinkled shirt, crooked tie, and the messiest desk I’ve ever seen.
His trash can is full of candy wrappers, which explains the distance between his chair and desk.
Stifling a grimace, I set my eyes on the glass-walled corner office that Nadia currently stands in front of.
“This is you, and, well, the business management guy. Whoever that will be.”
“Thanks.” I walk inside to find a large white table that looks more like an old dining table than office furniture.
Shelves run along the wall under another large window.
Two non-ergonomic chairs, one grey and the other a weird orange color, sit at either end of the table.
I wander to the window to find views of the city.
There’s one large potted faux fig, a dented trash can that looks like it’s been used as the staff football, and a cart with charging docks where two bricks of laptops sit.
Good lord, no wonder the place is running on fumes. Not exactly inspiring staff morale—or any morale, to think of it.
“Thanks, Nadia. Is it okay if I bring my own supplies in? Laptop, chair, etc.?”
She looks surprised but nods. “Absolutely. You’ll have to get the passwords from the tech guy so you can log in to our systems, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Great.” I give her a smile that is part excitement, part my keenness to make a difference here. Even if it’s only the office decor.
“Well, since there’s only the two of you for onboarding tomorrow, I guess we could do it in here.” She glances around the room.
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll see you out, then.”
We pass the bald candy guy, and he gives me a cringy thumbs up as his gaze drifts up my body. I return a tight smile and pick up my pace, ignoring the uncomfortable heat snaking down my spine. Nadia waves me off as I spill into the foyer. Instantly, cedar and spice hit me. Man smell.
Delicious.
That reminds me, it’s been at least a fortnight since I swiped right. Maybe I should celebrate tonight. I could go for an orgasm or five. The second the thought forms, I remember Mills is waiting at home for me.
Guess it’s my old friend Vinny. I am a thousand percent aware it’s weird to name your vibrator, but hey, he’s never let me down yet. And we’ve been together for years. No strings, no disgusting feelings, only lust and orgasms. He gives me all a girl could ever need.
I don’t do love.
I stopped believing in love the day my dad walked out. Men are only good for one thing, and Vinny is hands down a better lay than most of the guys I’ve been with.
Much less complicated.
I walk the two flights of stairs down to the front doors of the oversized building with stunning heritage features.
The first floor has been remodeled to three large spaces—two dorm-type rooms with bathroom and shower facilities and a large community room where the women and girls who end up here spend time, safe and cared for.
A stone forms in my throat as I close the heavy wooden door behind me and step into the sunshine. Summer is fading, the days cooling off, the first tinge of fall poking through in the leaves of the trees studded along the sidewalk of Franklin Ave.
I head for the subway. It will take me a solid hour to get home.
But the thought of moving from the apartment I love in the suburb I know every block of seems ridiculous.
Besides, who knows if this job will pan out?
My heels click toward the steps as people pour up and out of the underground labyrinth.
I slide to the right and squeeze my way down to the platform.
The doors to the train swoosh open, and I wait for people to disembark before stepping aboard. As soon as my ass hits the vinyl seat, I let my head rest on the window and my eyelids fall.
Here’s to a new start.
The sweetest, excited, wrinkled smile greets me as I unlock the front door to my Bronx apartment. Her blue eyes light her face, hands clutched together in front of her chest. “Well? Did you get it?”
I laugh as I tug my jacket off and toss it onto the front rack, dumping my bag to the floor. “I did.”
I grab her arms, and her hands close around my forearms.
“I knew you would. Imagine the difference you can make in a place like that, Carlie, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, it will be something to strive toward, that’s for sure.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s not a glamorous outfit like Carlson’s. But it will be great on my resume.”
She releases me and heads for the kitchen with a wave over her shoulder. “Resume, schmesume. You’re built for great things. And this is the start of something great, you mark my words, missy.”
It’s now that I smell the delicious aroma of Italian. Spaghetti, maybe . . . Possibly garlic bread?
I toe off my heels and pad to the kitchen to find Millie stirring something in a pot on the stove.
“How many times have I told you? You are not my maid, Mills. This is your home.”
“Too many, and frankly, it’s a little insulting.
I like to cook, and taking care of you is one of my greatest pleasures.
How dare you steal that from me.” She huffs playfully, and I narrow my eyes as I close in on the stove and lean over her.
She’s so small. I swear she shrinks more and more each year.
I plunge a finger into the hot, bubbling red sauce, stuffing it into my mouth before it burns my skin.
“Hey!” She slaps my arm.
I smile around my finger as the flavor hits.
“Good god. A girl could orgasm from this.”
“Carlie Lamont, watch that sassy little mouth of yours!” The blush creeping up Millie’s neck and face is adorable as she frowns at me, bewildered.
It blows my mind that the generations before us lived so wild and free, unaffected by technology and social media, but bring up talk of sex, and they run and hide.
I couldn’t live like that . . .
Mills turns on me, wooden spoon in hand. “You and your mouth can set the table.”
I pull a face that sees a smile crack and stretch her face. But I oblige, setting two places and gathering cutlery, her favorite wine and my green juice.
“Dinner’s ready,” Millie calls from the sink as she tips the pasta into the colander to drain. Steam billows above her and she hisses. I’m guessing she burned herself.
“Shit, Mills. Will you let me help, for god’s sake?”
She steps sideways with no argument. Not like her at all.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
She sighs. “Everything seems to be harder these days. I’m not getting any younger.”
“I know, you old fossil, so take a hike and let me handle this before you end up with third-degree burns.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I suppress the need to laugh at her. Seventy-five and as fiery as she was when she was in her twenties. Where does she think I got the sass from?
“Your mom rang earlier,” Mills says as she sits at the table.
“Oh.” I load up two plates and carry them to the table.
Millie frowns, her eyes setting into a hard gaze that’s locked onto my face.
“One day, you might want her back in your life. Take her calls, love.”
That will be the day hell freezes over.