Chapter 5 #2
His entire family was known around Seattle for having a monopoly on everything that had to do with commercial real estate near the water.
They owned every pier, every warehouse, several hotels, and just recently decided to get into the weed business.
It wasn’t hard to make the guess what they were using the ports for and what exactly they were moving.
It seemed like everyone knew but everyone looked the other way, which meant his stretch was far, and probably included public officials.
He was not a man you said no to. He was a man who was used to using money to apologize, ask permission, and make things go away.
Anyone with a minimal amount of logic knew.
He was my best friend though so I figured if he wanted to talk about it he would.
If he wanted to put on rose colored glasses then dig his head into the sand and say his dead liked to sell fish then who was I to argue that he moved drugs?
When you’re friends like that, the privilege in having a person who knows your soul is that you don’t have to ask questions and you don’t have to give answers, not until you’re ready.
, I vowed I’d be his shield even if he said he didn’t need it.
“Hey,” Jude stared me down, his blue eyes so intense I wanted to cry. “I lost you there for a minute, you okay?”
“I should be asking you that. Sorry, just thinking thoughts.”
“Oh, is that all?” He placed a hand on my hip then moved it lower. “Same.”
“Jude, remember the pact.” I barely got the words out, my heart skipped a few beats when his eyes moved to my mouth in that lazy way they always did when I knew he was thinking about crossing the line, kissing me, touching me, going beyond the safety of friendship into a zone both of us knew would implode.
“It was second grade.” He said.
“Right, and it still stands. Don’t ruin a good friendship.” My argument sounded so weak, my words even more so.
I wanted to. God knew I wanted to, but I was petrified that if I gave him the one thing we both wanted, he’d stop coming around, I’d become just like every other girl he slept with. And I had something they didn’t. I had his heart, as his friend, I had his soul, as his friend, I had his trust.
All they had was his body.
“Promise me something.” Jude said.
“Anything.”
“Don’t give up your V card to Jenson, he’s an asshole.
If you want to lose it to someone, lose it to me, I won’t date you, I won’t force you into a relationship or make things weird, I just can’t stand the idea of any other guy touching you and taking that from you, so if you really do get desperate because you feel like a loser, please get desperate in my direction, alright? ”
I laughed and held out my pinky. “Fine. I promise.”
“Wow, we upped the stakes,” He linked his pinky in mine and tugged me across his chest. Not falling in love with my best friend might be the hardest thing I’d ever do. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“I’m tired. I have a test.”
“I have practice.” He pulled me into his arms. “Night princess.”
“Night pauper.”
It was the opposite actually. He was the prince with all the castles and cars, and I was the pauper with a house falling apart around me and a mom with three jobs, plus a dad in prison. Real winners.
And yet he chose to stay in my bed whenever his parents fought or when his dad worked late.
My bed. My arms. My orbit.
I shake off the thoughts and stare at my phone. A message flicks across the screen. Manager A: “Need you to come in ASAP Steven’s got Strep. Nobody else can do it. The boss needs you now, extra money!”
Damn it, Axel. My boss, someone I barely interacted with physically, he texted—literally everything, I’ve seen him once in my life and it was a brief view of a white baseball hat.
He was tall, he had a nice speaking voice, but other than that, he was all business, the only reason he hired me was because he had no choice and then after that, kept me on because I was a fan favorite.
I text back yes before putting on a pair of sweats and jogging out of my room past Charlie who was already asleep on the couch, I knew she wouldn’t last long.
She wasn’t really tired, but there was a reason she couldn’t finish Yellowstone or any other show, she falls asleep the minute tv turns on.
I send her a quick text and leave the apartment.
It clicks shut behind me; the code clicks on.
And then I’m off. Down the hall, the four flights of stairs instead of the elevator to get my steps in, and out the building into the crisp fall air.
The drive to work doesn’t take long and while I used to feel guilty that I took this job from one of many of Jude’s dad’s companies, it was literally one of the only ones that were hiring in the area and could work around my schedule.
Plus, his dad owed me right? I knew he barely paid attention to this one—it was one of the many reasons his parents fought over the purchase of a useless company because of his wife’s hobbies.
A chill runs down my spine when I finally make it to Sheep Audio.
Dumb name.
Even dumber logo, great reading app though.
The logo was a picture of a fluffy big sheep with a black sleep mask covering its eyes.
That’s it, the black and white aesthetic sold like crazy though, they used it to brand an entire line at Target for sleep masks, gravity blankets, and pillows.
One thing I knew with absolute certainty, Jude’s family was rich rich.
People relied on us reading classics live to sleep at night and relax, and I loved books.
I wondered if Steven was going to finish The Count of Monte Cristo tonight.
Maybe I’d get to. The center was a massive black building with blackout windows and just one entrance.
It was three stories and divided into several workspaces for people who wanted to do stuff in between their sessions.
A kitchen was placed on every floor fully stocked with snacks and energy drinks, which I always took full advantage of.
I swiped my key card and made my way into the building and up the stairs to the second level.
“Hey, Lila,” Manson, the security guard waved at me.
He was wrapped up in a book, He was wearing all black, was balding, and had four kids all under the age of eight.
He always made me feel safe when I was working late.
In his late forties with brown eyes and skin, one would think he was in his twenties.
When I asked about his skin care routine he said it was all in hydration.
Hydration, something I always seemed to lack but needed when I was in studio.
I stopped off at the kitchen and grabbed an energy drink and cracked it open.
I still had another ten minutes before Steve’s time slot.
I’d only have to read for two hours, and then I’d be fifty bucks richer and a bit hoarser but it was worth it.
At least I wasn’t reading textbooks. It could be so much worse, and I loved the idea that I helped people fall asleep, I put smiles on their faces. One of my favorite things was reading the comments about how they looked forward to my voice. One in particular always seemed to comment when I spoke.
Sleepyhead was the name; all I know is that it was a young male and that he often said I helped make his day brighter. He hadn’t commented in a while though, but for a few years he was a repeat customer. I hope he’s doing okay.
I check my phone and scan more comments just to read through and reply to as many as I can, since engagement is part of the reason people like the app; you can talk to your narrators.
After making a post in the app that I’m about to go live, I walk over to the sound booth and sit down.
I adjust my things, then put on my headphones and almost groan.
Live broadcasts are brutal but they’re also the most rewarding.
I like seeing people tune in and comment in real time.
I quickly grabbed one of the baseball hats and face masks and put them both on to hide my identity.
Now anyone tuning in watching live from socials wouldn’t know who I was and I felt safer.
Something about showing my face to the world while reading felt very vulnerable, and I already felt that way to begin with so why not make it harder?
The cool part about the app was that you could be listening to a random guest celeb host or a college student like me, a famous podcaster, or a war vet. Anonymity was everything. It was about the voice, the inflection, it was about the story. And that was the only true thing still about me.
The only honest thing.
I think about Jude’s face tonight, the way his eyes pierced through to my soul, the betrayal.
The heartache. Does he know how often I dream of those eyes?
Of the way they pinned me in place every single time?
At the way I used to stare into them when we were in his bedroom, when our kiss shattered both of our futures in ways we couldn’t have possibly grasped?
I try to clear my head, but it’s nearly impossible, so rather than fake it, for once since moving, since pretending to be just Lilah and fine, I find my voice, and I speak the truth of the words I’m reading in the book.
The only truth I think I have left, the written word.
I give a thumbs up to the booth. The green ‘on air’ sign clicks on as I tap the iPad in front of me.
“Welcome listeners, tonight we’ll be continuing our story of The Count of Monte Cristo, a story about revenge, betrayal, and love.
” Ironic, is it not? I take a deep breath.
“As always thank you for joining me live this evening you can comment on our social media pages and make sure to give me some good feedback, now sit back, close your eyes, and go on a journey with me.” I read and I let myself get carried away into a different world where the good guys win and the bad guys lose and wish desperately it was that black and white.