3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Addie
C licking send, I hit submit on yet another job application. My fingertips literally hurt from how many positions I have applied to. Some require a commute, some are close enough to not be a big deal, and a lot are a step down. In a lot of smaller law offices, you can do all the things and be both a legal assistant and receptionist. Talking to people for the good of a case? Here for it. Talking to the general public? Not so much. But a job is a job, and hopefully, I can move back on up.
It’s been a week since I was “let go,” and I haven’t heard a peep from a single job I have applied to. My job hunt started immediately, since sitting still and idle doesn’t tend to work for me. Having a job gives me a purpose, and right now, I just feel like a big ole blob. The good news is my apartment has never been cleaner. I’ve stress cleaned every inch of this place. Twice. Ugh, I need a job. Or a free hobby.
With my luck, Mindi is probably out on vacation and Maggie is answering calls from inquiring employers. My head sinks into my hands as I let out a big groan, and the cold countertop of my kitchen bar seeps into my skin. My backup savings will only last me about two months. I try to save more, but let’s be honest, on my salary with rent and inflation, I’m saving approximately seven cents per paycheck. I literally just need one thing to go my way. Come on, universe. Throw me a bone.
My phone rings, dragging me from my sleep. Not having bothered setting an alarm last night leaves me wondering, what freaking time is it? And why does it feel so early? My hand fumbles around the sheets up to the bedside table, and I peek open my eyes so I can see who is calling.
“Why the fuck is Isla calling me at 7:45 a.m.?” I can’t remember the last time I slept in this late, but after the past week’s shit show, I guess my body needed some rest. My mind then hops to immediately thinking something is wrong, because why else would she be calling this early?
“Isla, what’s wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“Dude, its Saturday and not even 8 a.m. yet. I figured you were dying. If you were closer, you would be in danger of that as I was having the REM cycle of my life.”
“Oh, shit. I always forget about the stupid time change. I'm sorry. Do you want me to call back later?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m up. Hopefully you make it worth the lack of sleep.” I scooch up to a sitting position and try to get my wits about me.
“Um, well, I have an idea. You might think it’s crazy, but hear me out.”
“Well, now you have my attention.” An idea from Isla could be literally anything. Stifling a yawn, I listen to her grand idea.
“You know how Cal’s brother-in-law has a law office? Well, they are adding on a new lawyer at their firm and need another legal assistant who is able to handle a little more, as they are kind of high profile. So, all emails will be filtered through the legal assistant. He is the best family attorney in the state. I talked to Tyler about it, and he said he would hire you on the spot because it will take someone with a backbone to not take shit from this lawyer. Says he's a nice guy, but a little intense.”
My brain is trying to keep up with what she is saying. “Dude, it is way too early in the morning to be making this big of a life decision. I can’t just move across the country in a week’s notice.”
“You don’t have to decide right now, but the offer is out there. Also, I did it in two weeks, and I had, like, triple the amount of stuff that you do.”
“When would he need to know by?” I drag my hand across my face, trying to decide whether this is a weird dream or if my best friend is seriously propositioning me to move. Thousands of miles away. To a state I’ve only been to twice, soon to be three times.
“You should probably have your mind made up as soon as possible. He wanted to post the job online Monday, but they could probably wait ‘til the end of the week.
“This is feeling an awful lot like déjà vu, when you decided to pack up and move across the country. Except, I don't have the love of my life waiting for me.”
“Um, excuse me. I am absolutely the love of your life, and if you think differently, you are wrong.”
I chuckle because she is absolutely right. I don't know how to tell Cal that he will always be her number two, because we are forever each other’s number ones. It’s just the rule of being best bitches. The thought of no longer being long distance besties does add a little sparkle to this proposition.
“And where am I supposed to live? On a park bench? There is no way I can find my own apartment that fast.”
“You can just stay with me until you decide if this is what you want. No hardcore attachments, but a good, ole fashioned reset. Some new scenery might do you good.” She has a point there. And being close to her again sounds great.
“Okay, I will think about it and call you back later. My brain is not awake enough to process all this information. Can you get me Tyler’s information so I can ask for some numbers? And I will see if it’s worth the move.”
We end the call, and I stare up at my ceiling. What the fuck is going on with my life right now?
I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be. I, for sure, thought I’d be further in my career. This is what I get for picking a super particular niche. I should have just gone to law school instead of wanting to be a chaos coordinator. Who even wants that? Well, people who like being aggressively helpful and organizing chaos. People like me, I suppose. People who like law, but don’t want to practice it, and enjoy the justice it brings. Why couldn’t I have just been born normal?
I sigh, because that would have been boring.
Realizing I will not be getting any more sleep or relaxation, I throw the blankets off me and immediately feel the chill of the hardwood floors. My feet find my slippers and I shove them in. I make my way to the kitchen. My roomie did not make it home once again. I’m honestly not even sure why she lives here at this point.
I scrounge through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something. Do I know what? No. But I’ll know it when I see it. I open and close every cabinet door at least seven times before I decide to make some homemade cinnamon rolls. I love baking; something about the meticulous process soothes the crazy in my brain.
I drag out my mixer from the closet because, while I like the warm and cozy feeling homemade dough gives me, manually kneading it for fifteen minutes is not on my to-do list today. Shuffling around the kitchen, I gather all the ingredients, from mixing bowls to measuring cups.
I lose myself in the process, feeling the stress slowly dissolve as the dough comes together. After mixing the last of everything together, I let it knead itself while I bust out my laptop in hopes that even though it's Saturday, someone will have emailed me back, and at the very least, offered an interview of sorts.
Disappointment floods me as my inbox sits empty. It’s been a week since I filled out all these applications. I’ve even branched out from law offices and have applied to standard management positions, but have not had a single interaction. My check-in emails haven’t been responded to either. Are these places even really hiring?
I wish I had Mindi’s number to call and see if anyone has tried to call. I try to bring myself to regret what I said and did when I was let go, but honestly, they deserved it. They genuinely thought they were winning with good ole Maggie. Joke’s on them. Seriously, I wish I was a fly on the wall so I could see their faces every time Maggie comes in late and drops the ball.
Should I be wishing them well? Probably. It might do me some good to put some good karma in the world, but I’m a bit of a petty bitch, and they did me dirty. Dumbasses.
With a heavy sigh, I slouch back in my chair, waiting for that sign I asked for to do something, or for a ding to go off on my email. That doesn’t happen, but my timer does go off, letting me know it's time to get the dough ready to rise.
I pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven right as Kelly walks through the door with her shadow, also known as Kyler. At least one of us is getting laid on a regular basis. I have all but sworn off men until I can get my shit together. A classic Addie relationship is the last thing I need right now.
“Smells amazing in here! What are you making?” Kelly asks.
“Thanks, I’ve been making cinnamon rolls. You guys are welcome to have some if you'd like?” I offer.
“Ooooh, I love your cinnamon rolls! Did you make the brown sugar cream cheese frosting?”
I’ve literally never made them without them.
“Of course, they wouldn't be my cinnamon rolls without it.” A smile finds my face. It’s always nice when someone else enjoys your favorite foods.
She watches as I drizzle the frosting across the top of the steaming, hot cinnamon rolls. I could do this when they are cooled off, but I love the way the frosting becomes a glaze and seeps into every crevice. My mouth starts to water just at the sight of them. It doesn't help that the smell of freshly baked bread swirled with cinnamon has been circulating about the apartment this morning. Honestly, if they made this exact smell a candle, I'd buy a never-ending supply.
After dishing each of us a roll and grabbing plates, forks, and napkins, because this can get extremely messy, I take a seat at the kitchen bar. Both of them are acting a little weird, making long glances at each other. They almost seem nervous. I wrote it off as a fight when I first caught wind of the awko-taco behavior between the two of them, but it's ruining the vibe now, and I don't like it. Bad vibes and cinnamon rolls just don’t go together.
“So, what have you guys been up to lately?” I ask, needing to fill the awkward silence with something, even if it is just slightly less awkward conversation. They usually don’t stick around long, even if I make food. If Kyler is here, they go to her room. Maybe it’s just me feeling uncomfortable with them.
While she and I aren’t close now, part of me had hoped that maybe we would become besties; that she could merge with me and Isla, and we could have our “Friends” female trio moment. But she and I just don’t quite vibe that way. She is incredibly kind, but we just never shared that connection that I had wished for. Our conversations are often filled with long silences. Apparently, the only thing we have in common is our job title.
“Oh, not much. Actually, I came home today to ask you something.”
There it is.
“Oh?” Is all that I can think to ask because we aren't the favors type, apart from unplugging left-on curling irons. Well, on the odd chance she's home to do it for me.
“Well, we have been spending a lot of time together, and we realized we are ready to move in together.” Oh, so she wants to move out? Perfect. Now, I'll either be stuck being the third wheel in my own apartment, or stuck paying double the rent while jobless. Perfect. Just perfect.
Oh?” Once again, this is the only word that I can get out through the roar of panic in my brain.
“Yeah, and well, since Kyler still lives with his parents, we would have to live here. However, I'd be more comfortable if we could live here by ourselves.” Ah yes, because her comfort is all that matters.
I blink at her before bursting out laughing. Honestly, what the fuck else is life going to throw at me? I genuinely cannot believe this is my life right now. It takes me a minute to gather myself. She and her lover boy eye each other nervously, and I’m just hanging on to my last bit of sanity with a vice grip.
“Ohhhhhkay. Well, um, I am going to need a bit to figure my life out because I am jobless as of a week ago, and that unfortunately, doesn’t look good on apartment applications.”
“Oh no! I am so sorry. I wouldn't have asked if I’d known!” Genuine worry fills her face, and I feel bad for being an ass about her wanting to live with Kyler. Even he looks like he feels bad. We are in our mid-twenties. So, it’s not like this wasn’t a possibility at some point.
Waving my hands at her to dismiss her worry, I say, “Don’t worry about it. I'm working on it. Can I let you know in a few days if this will work?”
“No rush,” Kelly says, and Kyler nods his head in agreement.
I was looking for a sign, but I wasn't expecting life to bitch-slap me with it. How rude.