Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The tail end of the morning rush was filtering out of Stardust when Lacey walked up Friday morning. It had been a long week. All of her classes, which had been performing beautifully, seemed to fall apart, missing steps and cues like it was the first time they were running through their dances. It was frustrating and distressing, but at least they had one more week to try and pull it all back together.
Sam had only been home for two days before he returned to LA to work on his new album. She had assumed the plane flew back to California and then back to Oregon between trips, but she found out that Sam paid for his pilots to stay at The Crane Hotel because the trip was so quick. They’d run into Stacey and Wes when Sam took her out to lunch, and they were not the stodgy old white men she’d been expecting. They were in their early forties, married, and absolutely hilarious. It was comforting to know that he had nice people flying him around the country.
Two days hadn’t been long enough, though. The ache of missing him had barely dulled, and he was gone again. It didn’t matter that it was only for a few days, and then he’d have Stacey and Wes fly him back to Crane Cove so they could go to Las Vegas. If it hadn’t been so close to the recital, she might’ve said “Fuck it” and gone with him to Los Angeles. But the recital was the next weekend, and Lacey didn’t know if he needed space after what had happened the night he got back.
He’d told her he loved her. The problem was that he had said it during sex, so she didn’t know if he’d meant it or if he was simply overwhelmed by the glory of her pussy. It wouldn’t have been the first time a man had told her he loved her in the heat of the moment only to walk it back after he’d rolled off of her. But Sam didn’t walk it back; he didn’t even mention it again. Lacey couldn’t tell if he even realized he’d said the words. He wasn’t acting any different. If Sam had given her any indication that he wanted to tell her something, she might have brought it up, but he didn’t, which left her wondering:
Did he love her? Or was the sex so good it scrambled his brain and he said things he didn’t mean?
Stardust was almost empty when Lacey got to the counter.
“Can I get a large iced seafoam latte, please?” she said, digging her wallet out of her bag. Her hand brushed the unread mail Gavin had given her. She needed to make time to look that over, even though it was probably just statements.
The girl behind the counter nodded and rang in her order, shouting it to Sybil who was behind the espresso machine making drinks. Lacey ran her debit card. She shouldn’t be treating herself, but the $5.95 wasn’t going to erase her debt, and she’d had a long week. Plus, she’d saved so much money shacking up with Sam, she could cover the cost.
The credit card machine beeped.
Declined .
Lacey frowned. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t check her bank account often because it was depressing, but she hadn’t had any unexpected expenses and she’d budgeted herself down to the penny.
“Try it again,” the girl behind the register said. “Sometimes it’s temperamental.”
Lacey ran her card again. Declined .
“Do you have another form of payment? Cash? A different card?”
Lacey tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat, but it wouldn’t budge. Her face, neck, and ears felt impossibly hot, and her heart and mind raced.
There had to be an error. A mistake in the system. The reader was broken.
“I, uh—” She didn’t have any cash. She’d given the last of her cash to one of her students in exchange for a wreath to hang on Sam’s front door. It was for a school fundraiser, and just like the coffee, she figured she could swing it since she hadn’t been buying things like food or gas. Her credit cards had been cut up a long time ago to remove the temptation to use them.
“Cassidy, switch me spots,” Sybil said, moving behind the register. Cassidy dashed behind the espresso machine, clearly happy to be out of the awkward situation. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Lacey whispered, her voice choked by tears that were forming in her eyes. “It keeps declining.”
“Have you checked your bank account?” Sybil asked gently. Lacey shook her head. “This one’s on me.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Stop.” She cleared the transaction. “There’s a box of tissues in the bathroom.”
Grateful, Lacey hurried to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She blinked and the tears that had filled her eyes fell down her cheeks. She took a deep breath in, and let it out through pursed lips. Nothing was wrong. It was all going to be fine.
Lacey took her phone out of her pocket. It had automatically connected to Stardust’s wi-fi, so she opened up her bank’s app, still telling herself that everything was going to be fine.
It wasn’t.
Her checking account was empty. Worse than empty. It was overdrawn.
Bile rose in her throat, and she leaned over the toilet and vomited.
Lacey sat on the floor of the bathroom, trying to pinpoint exactly when her debit card number had been stolen. She got paid on the fifteenth and the thirtieth of every month via direct deposit. All of her bills were set up for automatic payment so she wouldn’t forget.
The mail.
She emptied her bag onto the floor and the letters fanned out. Some statements, but also notices of missed payment. Threats of action if payment was not made in a timely manner.
Lacey vomited again, but it was mostly bile. Her breakfast had jumped ship the last time she’d heaved.
Then she did the only thing she could think to do in her situation: she cried.
Her pity party was short-lived. Someone knocked on the door.
“Almost finished!” Lacey shouted, shoving her belongings and the cursed letters back into her bag. She flushed the toilet, then splashed water on her face, and rinsed out her mouth. She used the tissues Sybil had mentioned to blow her nose and clean up the bit of mascara that had run under her eyes. Her resulting appearance was pathetic.
Lacey put her head down when she left the bathroom, not making eye contact with the next occupant. She grabbed her drink from the end of the counter and left. The urge to go home, to hide under the covers with Daisy, was strong, but she couldn’t miss work. Even if Gavin understood, she needed the money.
Maybe Gavin would know what to do. He was older and arguably wiser.
By the time Lacey got back to the studio, she was glad she’d walked. The cold air gave her an excuse for her splotchy complexion. Gavin was in the office doing some bookkeeping with the glasses he proclaimed he didn’t need perched on the end of his nose.
“There you are. I thought you got lost,” he teased, taking off his glasses and folding them.
“No. I decided to walk.” Lacey set down her coffee and hung up her bag, then her coat on top, like all of her past due bills would shine through if she didn’t cover them up.
She changed from her outdoor shoes to her studio shoes, searching for the words to explain what had happened to Gavin, wondering how she could make herself sound like less of an irresponsible failure, when he cleared his throat.
“Um, Lacey, we need to have a potentially…awkward conversation.”
Nausea rolled through her stomach again. The day could get worse. She was going to get fired.
“Leo and I were talking?—”
Okay, maybe not her job.
“And since you’re always at Sam’s instead of at home, we were thinking—I’m so bad at this. I should have had Leo do it.” Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “We need to either raise your rent or have you move out so we can rent it out for more money. My mom needs to move into a care facility, and they’re not cheap…I’m so sorry. We’ve been crunching the numbers and?—”
Lacey shook her head, forcing herself to paste a smile on her face. “No, no. It’s fine, it’s fine. I understand. Um, I, uh, need to look at my budget and talk to Sam…”
“I know things are tight. I’m so sorry. If we had any other option?—”
“Gavin. Stop. Take care of your mom. I’m, um, going to go warm up before class.”
Lacey retreated to the studio and cranked a Jenna Fox song to try and drown out her brain. If she couldn’t hear herself think, maybe she could catch her breath.
Dance was the only consistent thing in her life. No matter what kind of shit storm she found herself in the middle of, there was dance. When her mom was sick, there was dance. When she passed, there was dance. When she wanted to be anywhere but at her dad’s house, there was dance. Through all of her highs and lows, Lacey had always been able to sink into the music and movement.
So, she danced.
At the end of the day, Lacey wanted Sam. She wanted his borderline blunt way of solving problems. Her life didn’t need finesse; it needed a battering ram. Or a bulldozer.
The most frustrating part was that she’d tried so hard to fix the mess she’d made of her life. If she’d half-assed it, maybe it wouldn’t be so painful. But she’d moved to a small town she’d never heard of because she could cut her living expenses by more than half. No friends? No problem. No one to tempt her into going to the bars or clubs, or out to eat, or on trips. With a very strict budget she’d seen the light at the end of the tunnel, even if it was a very long way away.
Lacey fed Daisy her dinner, then went to the bedroom to pack instead of eating the human food meal Sam had left. She’d lost her appetite .
Her appetite didn’t improve while she packed. Her wardrobe seemed even more pathetic when held up to the harsh light of going to an industry event with Sam Shoop. Not that she was going to the event. He hadn’t asked her to do that. But they were going to be in Vegas together, and all of his industry friends owned eighty-dollar T-shirts and six-hundred-dollar jeans. Maybe she would stay in the room with Daisy for the entirety of the trip. Steal leftovers from room service trays left in the hallway to be collected like the troll she was. No one had to know she was there. Sam could introduce her as the dog nanny if someone caught a glimpse of her.
Tears filled her eyes again. How was there any moisture left in her body? Hadn’t she cried enough for one day? But there was no holding back the sobs. For as long as she could remember, Lacey had been unable to stop crying once she started. After the initial tears, every little thing set her off.
Which meant when Sam walked into the bedroom unexpectedly, her sobs turned into wails.
“Why are you here?” she croaked.
“I own the place,” Sam joked, which only brought on a fresh wave of tears. “Oh shit. Sunshine, what’s wrong?” The mattress sank a little under his weight, and then his arms were wrapped around her, his familiar, comforting scent filling her snot-clogged nose. Lacey pressed her face into his neck and cried for several more minutes.
“Everything,” she finally managed, sniffling and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I’ve had the worst fucking day.”
“What happened?” he asked, trying to help her dry her face with his own sleeve.
Lacey recounted the events of the week, including how her dancers were falling to pieces, and then told him about what happened at Stardust, followed by what Gavin had said when she got to the studio. Sam listened patiently, his thumb stroking the back of the hand he held.
“I feel like such a failure,” she blubbered. “I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Sam reassured her. “Have you called the bank yet?”
Lacey shook her head. “No. I meant to, but the day got away from me.”
“You need to call the bank so they can start investigating and get your money back. It might take a few days. Do you have any money anywhere else you can use? Stocks? Bonds?”
“Do people still have bonds?”
“Lacey, focus.”
She shook her head. “No. Everything I had was in my bank account.”
“Did your mom leave you anything?”
“Yes, but the accessible portion is long gone.”
Sam frowned. “What do you mean the accessible portion?”
Lacey let out a shaky sigh. “The money she left for me was divided in half. I got the first part when I turned eighteen. The other part—” she groaned— “the other part is held in trust until I get married. It was supposed to be a wedding present.”
“What if you never got married?”
“I don’t think she thought that was a possibility. I was a hopelessly romantic kid. Life beat it out of me.” Lacey bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.
“I could give you money?—”
“No!” she shouted, much more forcefully than she’d meant to. “No,” she said again, softer. “I don’t want that.”
Sam stared at her in disbelief. “Why not? You need money, I have money.”
“Because money makes things weird in relationships. It ruins them. I don’t want that to fuck up anything between us. You’re too important to me, Sam.”
There. She’d said it. The first litmus test to see if any kind of emotion between them would send him running for the hills.
“But—”
“I mean it. I hate every boyfriend I ever gave money to. I don’t ever want you to resent me like that.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve again. “I’ll figure it out. I can try and get a second job. Not that this is a great time of year to be looking, but I’m so fucking sick and tired of being in debt. I hate this.”
Sam gathered her up in his arms and squeezed her tightly. He kissed her temple, letting his lips linger, then said, “Stay here. Live here. It’ll save you a couple hundred dollars a month.”
“I can’t?—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lacey. Yes, you can. You’ll take care of Daisy when I’m gone. Work in exchange for rent, if it’ll make you feel any better.”
It mollified her a little and she relaxed against him.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not.” He pressed another kiss to her temple.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go to Vegas.”
His body stiffened. “Why not?”
“Because.” Lacey knew she was winding herself up again for another meltdown, but it was like watching an oncoming avalanche while stuck in a hole. “I have nothing to wear, I’m broke, I’m going to end up embarrassing you because of the first two things?—”
“Fuck’s sake, Lace,” Sam groaned. “I don’t care what you wear. I’d prefer you were naked all the time, but that’s just my opinion. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll have to explain to Stacey and Wes why I made them fly up here a day early for nothing.”
“Why did you come home a day early? I thought I was meeting you at the airport tomorrow.”
“Because I missed you. You’re important to me too.” He thumbed the end of her nose playfully. “And I was worried you’d get cold feet and not turn up.”
Lacey laughed. It was watery, but it was a laugh. They cuddled for a while, Sam stroking her hair and rubbing her back, and Daisy joined them once she realized no one was going to go downstairs and turn on her TV.
Eventually, Sam helped her finish packing, and she talked him out of bringing everything of Daisy’s with them for a weekend trip. Then they took Daisy out for her evening walk, sticking to the paved driveway because the recent rain had created a lot of mud, before getting into bed nice and early. They snuggled together, bodies fitted together like spoons in a drawer, and Daisy laid on their legs because she couldn’t wiggle her way in between them.
Lacey fell asleep in the safety of Sam’s arms and under Daisy’s comforting weight, counting her blessings instead of her mistakes.