Chapter 2 #2
She sighs. “It’s tiring, but it’s the job.
Lucas sent me comments on my first draft for Lady in White yesterday.
I swear the man is deliberately trying to make me miss my deadline.
” I tune out for the rest, waiting for her to pause so I can ask the dreaded but desperate favor.
When she goes on, I wonder if it’s a sign that maybe I shouldn’t ask.
Maybe this is my chance to reconsider and find an alternative.
Because it’s going to come with a price.
She takes a breath. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need money?”
As usual, the woman doesn’t hold back.
“No. Well, not exactly. My apartment is being renovated—for a month. They want to start soon. Like tomorrow soon. Can I stay at your place for a bit?”
If Eric thinks I’m going to stay at the apartment and wait for him to show up, he’s got another thing coming.
“Oh.”
That’s it. That’s all she says. She’s going to make me drag it out of her.
“Is it a bad time? Are . . . you renovating too?” I ask slowly.
“Well, no. Not exactly. I am heading back, but I’m having a photoshoot for my new book this weekend at the apartment. You know it’s got that wonderful view of lower Manhattan and . . . well, I can’t have extra . . . things around.”
“OK, Mom. I get it.” I sigh but don’t end the call just yet.
“You know the Lennox Hotel is one of my favorites. Perhaps you can—”
“You know I can’t afford that, Mom.”
“Well, you would, if you took my advice for a change,” she mutters.
“I’m not getting married just so I could afford a stay at the Lennox, Mom.”
The woman is also the trustee of the inheritance my grandmother left me. Locked up until I’m twenty-eight—or married. It’s not a fortune, but it would be enough to buy a modest home in the suburbs, a decent car, and high-end coffee for a year.
“There’s nothing that says you have to stay married. Heaven knows, with or without that stupid clause, you’d be separated within a year.”
Ouch.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All I’m saying is, with the chaos you call a love life, I’m not holding my breath for a happily ever after.”
It shouldn’t hurt. Because she’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. In fact, she’s simply saying everything I’ve convinced myself of, so I should be glad she’s given up on me.
After all, I have.
“It’s only another four years. I’ll wait.”
“You’ll wait. The Lakeview Estates won’t,” she mutters.
I roll my eyes at my mother’s mention of the brand-new development in Long Island I had my heart set on. One she made me apply to “just for fun” so I could get a taste of it.
It worked because I wanted it too. A big dream home in the suburbs isn’t something many city girls aspire to in their mid-twenties. Especially not musicians. We dream of traveling, entertaining, living out our passion from anywhere—even tiny downtown apartments.
But not this musician. I don’t want to travel or have a big audience in my future.
I want enough high-paying gigs so I can afford my own equipment, a sound room to record an album or two.
And since we’re dreaming . . . a living room with a grand piano.
A big, bright kitchen to brew coffee and burn pancakes because I’m busy humming the tune of my next hit.
The Lakeview Estates was perfect. Quiet town, big yard, amazing lake view surrounded by greenery. When I first heard about the project close to a year ago, Eric and I were still together. Still planning our life together—or at least I was.
When our relationship died, my dream of owning a home at the Estates didn’t die with it. Access to my inheritance did.
At least for another few years.
Because I refuse to marry just to buy my dream house.
“Just think—” Mom continues. “In a year, you could have a clean divorce and five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Goodbye, Mom. Good luck with the tour.”
“Wait, where will you stay?”
“I’ll figure something out.” I decide a healthy dose of guilt and worry might do the woman some good.
“Hang on, hang on.” She sighs. “How about you come Sunday night? Pack a few necessities for a few weeks and we’ll have a ball.”
I shiver. “You . . . don’t have another tour?”
“Not until my next release in February.”
Living with my mother was never a ball. In fact, it’s a nightmare. She keeps her place looking like the cover of a magazine at all times. It’s unlivable for someone like me. I’m no slob, but I’ve been known to leave the occasional milk carton out.
And there’s no doubt in my mind that that woman is going to keep on pressing me to get hitched, just so I can cash out.
But I’m out of options. And it will only be a few weeks.
“Sounds great,” I breathe with a forced smile. “I’ll, uh . . . stay with a friend till then.”
Three hours and a hefty suitcase later, I stop by the Lock Bar where I play piano four nights a week.
Not exactly my dream job, but since Eric got me kicked out of all the fancier places I’ve played, it’s all I have left.
Thankfully, his outbursts have been useless here.
Billy is immune to all things jealous boyfriends.
“Hey boss,” I call over the ice Billy dumps into the sink behind the bar.
He glances at me, quickly scanning my non-work-appropriate attire. Usually, I’m in something low-cut, black, and sexy. Today, I’m in an oversized hoodie and a pair of skin-tight jeans. Then his eyes land on my suitcase.
Billy mutters a curse and sets down the bucket. “What’d you do?”
“What?”
“You skipping town? You in some kind of trouble?” He points a finger. “Is it that slimy ex of yours?”
I smile at him and set my apartment keys on the bar. “I need a favor. The biggest I’ll ever ask.”
He sighs. “Where’s the body?”
I laugh bitterly and tell him about my call with Eric. When he’s done cursing like a sailor, I take his hand and set the keys in his palm. “Sell everything in there and send me the cash?”
He tosses them lightly from hand to hand. “Thought he gave you till Friday.”
“He’ll be back. And I don’t want to be there.”
He looks around and nods. “Where you going?”
“I owe a friend a visit in Blue River Springs.”
Willow: Hey, I promise I haven’t been avoiding you. Just been a little hectic here.
Rose: Sorry, who’s this?
Willow: You did not delete my number already. It’s your best friend.
Rose: You must be confused. My best friend is right here.
I get a picture of Rose with a little girl with shiny auburn curls and bright blue eyes. They’re sitting on a porch showing off their matching beaded bracelets.
Willow: Well then, I’ll just have to find another friend to visit for a few days. Bye.
My phone rings instantly and I smile as I swipe up.
“Shut up. Are you messing with me? Are you finally going to come visit?”
I laugh. “I’m not messing with you. I’ve missed you. Packed a bag but no place to go since my bestie replaced me.”
“Beat it, squirt,” I hear her say to someone who giggles in response. “Assuming this isn’t some cruel joke, what’s the occasion? Is it my birthday?” she gasps. “Is your mother in town?”
I attempt another lighthearted laugh. “No, no. The bar is closed temporarily for a C-rating so I’ve got a few days off.”
It’s not a complete lie. Billy’s bar did have to close two weeks ago, but we remedied the issues and it wasn’t shut down for too long. And since Rose used to work there with me, she buys it.
“Poor Billy. Well, I’d love to have you. When can you come? Wilder left this morning with his brother for a few days so it’s just me and Ellie until Friday.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that Rose is wide open for a visitor.
When I get there, I’ll tell her the truth.
Probably.
I hate lying but I’m also too proud to help it sometimes.