Rent Me: Quinn (Foxy’s Rent-a-Date)

Chapter One

Quinn

I STARED OUT the window as the train crossed another trestle. I was sure that if I could see behind us, the buildings of New York City would be rapidly retreating. As I wanted them to.

It would be a thrill to never see them again. Ever.

Tara was deep into her book, not really interested in watching. I had the sneaking suspicion that she was thrilled we were leaving. I sort of wished I had done this sooner. If I had, we might not be facing financial ruin. Again.

No, there was no reason to ever come back here.

"Stare any harder, Quinn, and you'll melt the glass." There was a grin in my twin sister's voice.

"Tara, darling, read your smut."

"I am. I have more than enough books to keep me happy." She looked up from the tablet. "What do you have to keep you happy?"

The groan escaped me. "Please don't, Tee. I can't. Not right now."

She looked chided. "Sorry, Q. I should know better."

"No, it's not something that crosses your mind. "

"But I should remember. You're my twin and it's hard for you."

I sighed. "Forget it. We're on our way, away from all of it. We don't have to deal with any of them." Tara nodded. "I am actually excited to get a new phone number. No more two am calls from Charlie or Maureen."

"That is a huge bonus." I didn't tell her I was planning to keep my New York number because of our parents.

I knew that when they finally overdosed- and it was when, not if - I would have to clean up whatever mess they left behind.

It would be the only time I would come back: to clean out, update, and rent out my grandparents' gorgeous west- side, rent controlled apartment.

The Tappan Zee started to narrow outside my window.

It reminded me that we had a very long trip ahead of us.

From NYC to Albany, across the whole of New York state, through Erie, Cleveland, Toledo, Gary and finally to Chicago.

There, we'd change trains to the sleeper cabin I sprung for on the infamous Empire Builder train.

That would take us across the rest of the country to our final destination in Seattle.

About as far away from the shit show that was our life in New York.

I wasn't sad to go.

I just wondered if my heart would ever heal.

** *

Chicago was like I remembered it, but Tara was thrilled to finally get there and see the city. She insisted on a few days there when I had booked the tickets and I wanted to remind her that I was piss broke.

But then, if was that deep in the hole, what was another thousand dollars on the credit card? I was going to be paying it for years, why not make my sister happy?

She deserved it.

Three days in Chicago was decent. She got her hot dog, her deep-dish pizza, her tour of Navy Pier, the top of the Sears Tower--I had long since learned not to call it anything but--as well as the Art Institute and the Natural History museum.

The train left late on the third day, and this was the part that I was excited about. I'd dreamed of taking the Empire Builder for years, just to see the north end of the country like only a train could allow.

We traveled up and up to the very northern edge of the country.

Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, a sliver of Idaho, and across the state of Washington.

Rolling hills, plains, wide open pasture, almost desolate landscapes of tall grass and gulches, foothills and finally-the Rocky Mountains towering over the land.

A quick few hours of high desert in eastern Washington and the land rolled back into the mountains.

This time, the Cascades and woodlands of western Washington.

A solid 3 days later, we slowed one last time and rolled cautiously into King Street Station, Seattle. Two thousand nine hundred miles, away from the hell and heart break of the only life I had known to that point. It was a huge relief to be away from all that.

"Okay, that's cool." Tara peered up at the Space Needle.

"We'll have some time over the next few days. I'm sure we can head up to the top. There are a bunch of places we can visit while we get setup." I held the chair for her to sit.

After we ordered our coffee and breakfast, my twin leaned forward! "So, can we finally talk about all of this?"

I just stared at her. "What?"

She folded her hands in front of her. "Quinn, I am fucking thrilled to be away from that nightmare city.

I am. But I've wanted to leave for years.

You did not. You have been incredibly successful there.

I've never had to worry about my medical expenses since you started working after college.

And you aren't the type to just decide to leave on a whim.

Like we just did. Without the boyfriend you had been musing about marrying. So what the hell is going on?"

A deep sigh escaped me, and I slumped a bit in my seat. Tara was no dummy. I should have known she wasn't as blissfully unaware as I thought she was. I wasn't as slick as I thought, either.

“Jarrett was a two-timing whore."

Tara gasped. "No. Oh, Quinn, no. Not a second time. You're kidding."

"It's worse, this time. Jarrett got married. To a woman named Lia, five years ago.”

Tara stopped me, putting her hand up. “Lia. Novak?”

“Yes.”

“ My fucking classmate? ”

I nodded. “They met when you brought her over for a study session.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no, Quinn—”

This time, I stopped her. “No. Absolutely not. Not your fault. This is all on him. He has pulled this before. I tried reporting it to the FBI, but…” I shrugged. “They suggest I ought to remove myself from the situation."

"Did they offer witness protection?"

"This isn't that kind of crime. I thought it was bad enough to investigate, they didn’t."

She grabbed my hand. "I am so sorry."

“Thankfully, I have my good credit, even if it is kind of high use right now. We'll be able to get a decent place to stay while I'm looking for a good job."

***

"That'll be thirty-nine eighty-eight, first window please."

Two bachelor degrees, one in finance, one in economic theory.

“Did you hear me? Absolutely do not put pickles on this burger. None. Bad things will happen if you put onions on my food.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understood and noted it twice. Thank you, first window.”

A master's degree in business administration.

“Why don’t you have Mister Pibb?”

“We simply don’t have it in stock, sir. It’s not something Bobby’s Burgers offers.”

And here I was, Bobby’s Burgers. Arguing with customers for twenty dollars an hour—and it was only that high because I was living in Seattle. I hated everything about it. Tara’s Social Security was hers. I couldn’t use that for anything; she needed it for medications and healthcare costs.

So, Bobby’s Burgers. I took as many hours as I could, but it was basically all going to rent in a ground-level one-bedroom where I had to sleep in the living room.

I’d lucked out and found a good futon to use on Marketplace.

Tara had plenty of room in the bedroom. We’d even managed a walk-in shower to make her life a little easier.

I’d found and bleached the shit out of a shower chair for her too.

Thank God for curb finds and Marketplace. It wasn’t fun having so little when we’d once upon a time, lived in a penthouse on Park Ave just six months ago.

Still wouldn’t trade it for what we had before.

“There’s no pickles, right?”

“Ma’am, the second window has the food. You’ll have to take it up with them.”

She looked like someone had shoved that pickle up her ass, and drove off.

I sighed, rubbed my eyes and looked up at the drive thru.

No cars. I glanced up at the clock. Eleven p.m., which meant the sign was out for the night.

No more customers. I closed the window and started the shut down and locked down my till.

A final set of customers were standing at the counter. I hadn’t realized that it was that busy in the dining room, that we still had some customers. I walked to the cashier and leaned next to her on the counter.

“Need help?”

“Oh, I’m good. You could see if Gary needs any help either finishing the order or cleaning up,” she smiled.

I nodded and walked back to where Gary was slapping the onions on the burgers. I glanced at the order, and there was a giant NO ONIONS on the screen. “Gary…”

“What?” he snapped.

“No onions.”

“Fuck it.” He slapped the bun on the top. “The burgers come with onions.”

“Gary, you can’t—”

“I don’t care, man. The burger comes with onions. If you don’t want them, go somewhere else.”

“What if they’re allergic?”

“Carry an EpiPen.”

This was the shift supervisor. This asshole putting onions on a burger that had NO ONIONS on the order. It was harder to put the onions on that leave them off, and here he was being a jackass about it.

I wasn’t going to make it here. At least Ashley at the counter was nice, but I couldn’t handle someone being so disrespectful. This was why people lashed out at service workers—employees like Gary the Shift Supervisor.

“Go do something useful, Quinn. Go. Now.”

I walked straight to the counter. “Ma’am, our supervisor is an asshole and just put onions on your no onion order. Is this a preference or an allergy?”

The absolutely, objectively gorgeous woman standing there turned to the woman she was with. “It’s an allergy.”

“Right. So, I’d refuse the burger until it’s made without since scraping them off won’t be effective in this case.”

“The hell is wrong with you, Quinn?!” Gary had walked up immediately behind me with the completed order in a bag. “I said go do something useful.”

“This is useful,” Ashley snapped. “He’s saving the company from a lawsuit.”

“Well, that’s the last thing he’s doing for this company at all.” He dropped the order bag on the counter unceremoniously and looked straight at me. “You’re fired. Clock out and get lost.”

I pulled the apron over my head and threw it on the back counter. “You clock me out, asshole.” I pushed the exit counter up and walked out.

Ashley put her apron on the counter as well and followed me out. “Good luck, Gary. Enjoy closing. Enjoy your life. I’m with Quinn.”

The two ladies looked lost and amused at the same time. They nodded at us a moment later and followed the two of us out the front door, leaving Gary screaming his fool head off.

“You’ll never work in burgers again!”

The door slammed on that sentence.

“Not really a threat there, Gary,” Ashley mumbled, then turned to me. “How fucked are you?”

“Very,” I sighed. “Not homeless fucked, but pretty close. I guess I’ll have to hope someone in burgers hires me again. You?”

“I still have two years of college before I can get an office job, but I have the option to go home and stay with my parents if the worst happened.”

“Excuse us,” the two women approached from the doorway.

“Thank you so much for being honest about those onions,” the red-haired one said. “She’s very allergic to them and we realized yesterday her EpiPen is out of date. That would have been disastrous.”

“He was exhausting,” Ashley said.

“Are you both out of a job now?” the dark haired one asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, even if the manager calls me tomorrow and offers the job back—”

“Which he totally will,” Ashley interjected.

“—I won’t go back. I’ve had enough shit to deal with, and I also know he won’t fire Gary. Nope.”

“Same,” Ashley agreed.

The dark-haired one laughed, and motioned toward us, walking away at the same time.

The red-haired one shook her head, laughing as well.

She reached into her purse and pulled out two business cards and held one out to each of us.

She nodded to Ashley. “Come to this address at three tomorrow afternoon. Ask for Amalie.” She glanced at me. “Four, ask for Foxy.”

She grinned and pranced away, her hair bouncing and her friend laughing as she caught up.

Ashley and I looked down at the cards.

Foxy’s Rent-A-Date.

“What the hell…” I mumbled.

Ashley showed me hers. Amalie’s Salon. “Are you going?”

“I got nothing else going on.”