Chapter Three
Pierce
I yanked the paper off the door. I didn’t need to read it to know what it said. It was hot pink—the color my landlord used to let everybody know when you were late on your rent. Fine, that wasn’t his reason, but it might as well have been because the second that pink hit anyone’s eyes, they knew what it meant.
My landlord was a piece of shit, but also, I was late. So really, this was on me.
And, technically, I had enough to cover it, but then I wouldn’t have enough to put gas in the car to get to job interviews or to keep the electricity on—electricity which would give me the power to use my computer to apply for the positions, or for dry cleaning my suit for job interviews. Basically, I was too fucking poor to get a job, and now, I was going to get kicked out of my apartment.
Things would’ve been so much easier if I’d still had my roommate, but he’d left the previous month after being laid off by his company. Joe moved back home. Or at least that had been the plan. I hadn’t heard from him since, not even a Zelle for the half of this month’s rent he promised to send.
I wasn’t mad at him, not really. His life had gone to shit. It wasn’t like he got a new gig as CEO somewhere and moved into a penthouse. We all do the best we can.
If only the best I could do was good enough to survive. Unlike Joe, I didn’t have family to fall back on. Just me, my expensive piece of parchment, and luck against the world. Only I hadn’t been able to find the luck just yet.
I graduated last semester—ending my paid internship. In theory, those paid internships were supposed to help us get a foot in the door at the company, a better chance of getting a position. I didn’t even get an interview, thanks to their hiring freeze. It would’ve been nice if they had told me that early on instead of stringing me along for so long.
Relief flooded me when my key still slid inside the lock. My asshole landlord had been known to “upgrade” tenants’ locks when they were a little late. Not to lock us out, of course. That would be illegal. He made sure to find a technical loophole on that one. But my key worked, and I hurried inside. Technically, I was eleven days late on rent, and I had decisions to make—whether I paid it and let everything else fall away, or didn’t pay it and risk being locked out. Both sounded absolutely horrible.
“Hey, Hank.” Hank being a cactus that was on the windowsill when I moved in. By some miracle, I’d managed not to kill him all this time.
I kicked my shoes off, went to my computer, opened it up, and pulled up the job site again. I’d spent the morning visiting every retail store nearby that had a sign in the window. They all claimed to be hiring, but when I talked to the people inside, they said that was a “perma sign,”—their word, not mine—and that they’d call if anything opened up, but also that I was more than welcome to go online and apply if I wanted to be available for one of their other stores. As if I had the money for a commute.
Maybe it was time to think about moving far away from here. I wouldn’t be able to get an apartment cheaper than this one locally; that was for sure. This area wasn’t for me, no matter how much I loved it.
It was time to move someplace cheaper. I loved San Diego, and it had been my dream to start a life here, which is why I went to school here instead of back East, where I came from. But it was getting close, if not already time, time to just call uncle.
I picked up the paper my landlord had gifted me with and read it, in case, by some miracle, it was an advertisement for bubble tea or something a thousand times better than a late notice. It wasn’t. It said that if I didn’t pay my rent within four more days, I was going to have a late fee. Not a little late fee, either: 10 percent. Late fees made no sense. If you don’t have money for the rent, you sure as shit didn’t have the funds to pay more, but such was the way of things.
“Argggg.” I didn’t have a choice. I took out my phone, pulled up the app, and sent my landlord the money, which left my bank account with twenty-seven dollars and no hope of more money coming in.
In my kitchen cupboard, I had a discount packet of instant noodles, two cans of peas, and a jar of applesauce. That was it. How did I let things get this bad? It wasn’t like I was irresponsible. I worked hard, got good grades, and tried to save money. But when it came to taking out huge loans or paying as I went, I went with option two, depleting anything I could squirrel away for later. In hindsight, it was a shit decision, but I thought I was setting myself up for success. I was wrong.
I looked at the new job listings. Most of them were scams where you became your “own boss.” As in, a get-rich-quick scheme, MLM, or both. There were also some professional positions I did not even come close to qualifying for. But the last one…the last one had potential. The pay wasn’t fabulous, but it came with staff housing, and I met the requirements.
It didn’t sound like a caregiver position, but where else would you get free housing? The requirements were off for that. Whatever the case, it was my first glimmer of hope all day.
I dug a little deeper and learned the interview was at Animals. I hadn’t heard of it before, but apparently it was a popular night spot. There weren’t any immediate red flags. Reviews stated great staff, excellent prices, and amazing food. Not once did anyone use the word seedy or stripper or drugs, which had been my initial fear. Everything I could find checked out.
Why were they offering housing? Maybe the pay was not as generous as they said. Oh well, it was better than nothing.
I filled in all the details, hit enter, and went back to my job search—only, this time, I widened it. It was probably time to give up on San Diego. My lease was up at the end of the month, and any renewal would come with a rent increase. Given I couldn’t even cover what was already being charged, there was no way I could pay more.
Oh well. At least no one could say I didn’t follow my dreams.