Chapter 6
Sadie
As soon as I’m back at my desk, I pull up website after website searching for an apartment: anything to get me out of the hole I’ve just dug for myself.
I’ve got an advance on my paycheck now, which has bought me some time.
I can stay where I am for a few more nights until I find a sensible alternative.
I absolutely can’t live with someone who I have an unfortunate crush on, doesn’t want me there, and is now my boss.
That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.
In the middle of all this, Jake starts messaging me:
Any word on your pay?
Did you ask?
But I just ignore his texts as I sweat through numerous websites and send out around thirty messages.
All the apartments are insanely expensive.
I book another night at the hostel and text my mom that I’m staying with my friend for a few more days because we’ve got a deadline.
Mom never worries if I’m working hard. She wants me to do well, to make her sacrifices worth it, and I totally get that.
Anyone who doesn’t has never been poor. Her message back is simply: “Fine, baby girl.” I’ve got to talk to her about Jake, but hopefully this will hold things for a bit until I get settled. One problem at a time.
As I head out of the office, I jam my headphones into my ears and press play on an audiobook.
As a warm voice fills my head, the day starts to fade into the buildings beside me and I take a deep breath.
I’m just in a fight scene where the hero has challenged someone to a duel, when somebody grabs my arm, and I jerk back hard as I stare up into a pair of weaselly eyes. Fuck.
“I knew you fuckin’ worked around here,” Jake says, triumphant. Then his eyes narrow. “Where’s my money?”
Goddamn Jake and his debts. “What do you mean, your money?”
He jerks back. “The money for your mom’s and my debt.”
All the mistakes of the day bubble up inside me. “It’s not her fucking debt, is it? She’s never owed anyone in her life.”
He glowers at me. Normally, I don’t answer Jake back, but it’s like ever since he touched me, the lid that I keep slammed down on everything has been pushed open.
He shakes my arm. “Don’t give me that fuckin’ lip. Did you get the money?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
His eyes narrow. “You didn’t fuckin’ ask, you spineless …”
“You’re delusional. Why would they advance my paycheck, Jake? A girl with no qualifications who lives in social housing in Queens. I swear you have no brain cells.”
“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that! Your mom’s gonna hear about this.”
“Go ahead and tell her! I’ll tell her you stuck your hand on my ass and suggested we could have fun together. See how long she sticks around then. You’re lucky I haven’t gone to the cops.”
He grabs my shirt and pulls me into him, beer-soaked breath washing over my face. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
His eyes roam over my face, and then his mouth slowly curves into a leering grin as he presses into me. “Your loss, babe. Would have been nice.”
“Do you cheat on Mom all the time? Or just with members of her own family?”
I don’t even see his hand flashing out as his fist catches me across the face.
Some instinct makes me shove him hard and he staggers backward.
I spin on my heel, and my feet have a mind of their own because in the blink of an eye I’m running, breath sawing in and out as my shoes slap over the concrete.
In a minute, I’m down a block, then another, my chest getting tighter and tighter, one ear listening for the sound of pounding behind me.
On the third block, I grind to a halt, place my hands on my knees and suck in air, leaning on the wall of the nearest building as I scan down the street.
There’s no sign of Jake. I straighten as I lean back against the brickwork.
The worst part of this is that Jake has found out where I work, despite James’s best efforts to lie on my behalf. James met your stepdad, Sadie. Even worse, he thinks Jake is your actual dad. Maybe that’s why James didn’t want me living with him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket:
Jake’s messaged me about your pay. He says he was expecting some money to come into our account.
Mom. He’s roping her in now? Christ. Well, two can play at this game:
Tell him to earn his own money.
Does my mom know about this debt that he has? I can’t believe she does; she’d be livid.
Come on, baby girl, we always pull together. He’s having a rough time finding a job at the moment. I’m at work. Can you talk to him?
He wanted me to ask my company for an advance on my paycheck, Mom. I can’t do that. I told him that.
Oh, really? Okay. I’ll talk to him.
I put my phone back in my pocket and wend my way through the streets toward the PATH terminal.
A woman glances at my face as she passes by, and her eyes widen.
I draw my shirt in around my neck and step into a doorway, digging a mirror out of my backpack.
The whole side of my face is red, and as I take in my skin, my eyes prickle.
That’s going to look terrible once the bruise comes up.
Goddamn Jake. In all these years, he’s never hit me, and I’m pretty sure he’s never raised a hand to my mom either, and she’s been with him for fifteen years.
Why’s he all riled up? He’s easy to handle in the usual run of things.
On instinct, I snap a quick picture of myself.
As I gaze up Fulton Street, my eyes snag on a CVS on the corner. Hmm.
I slide in the door to the pharmacy, but nobody gives me a second glance, so I track down the makeup aisle and stare at the startling array of foundations and concealers—more money.
I swear my only expenditure is food in Queens.
I even debated whether we needed milk the other day, and I’ve spent eighty-six dollars on two nights in a hostel in less than twenty-four hours.
Unfortunately, everything is locked away in clear cabinets, so I can’t try anything.
“Can I help you?”
The voice comes from behind my left shoulder. Okay, Sadie, you can do this. She doesn’t know you from Adam: Channel your inner woman from the projects who’s married to an asshole.
“I’ve got this bad bruise coming up on my cheek and I want something to cover it,” I say as I turn around.
Her eyes narrow on my face and she purses her lips. She doesn’t even appear surprised, like this is another day in the office for her, like women walk into pharmacies downtown with bruised faces all the time. And perhaps they do. Or maybe she lives somewhere shit like Queens.
“Yeah, I think you need a thick concealer for that. Can I take a closer look?” she says.
I nod and she steps toward me, placing gentle fingers on my face as she examines it. “It’ll be a difficult bruise to hide.”
Tell me about it, I don’t say as my heart sinks. I’m going to have to invent a story at work tomorrow.
“L’Oréal’s the way to go. It’s one of my favorite brands, and all their stuff is bulletproof.”
Her perfectly made-up face is all the evidence I need, so I follow her down the aisle until she stops and unlocks another of the see-through cabinets, pulling out a small and a large tube. “Concealer and a foundation stick. Use them both and it’ll give you the best coverage—trust me.”
I grimace and nod at her. “Where do you live?” I blurt out.
“Queens,” she says.
I was right!
“I’m not sure what I’m doing working downtown, if I’m honest,” she adds.
“Escaping?” I say.
She hoots. “Amen to that, girl!” She waves her arm out. “I like all these fancy offices and smart people.”
I laugh. “I’m not fancy, though. I live in social housing in Queens myself.”
She nods. “I thought you looked like one a’ us.” She gestures at my face. “And not just because some fella took a swipe at you.” She guffaws.
“It’s a paragliding bruise,” I say as a smile curls over my mouth.
She snorts. “That’s a new one on me, girl, and I thought I’d heard them all.”
“My stepdad,” I say.
She points to her chest. “Five half-siblings, all with different dads. My mom’s a car crash, chasing all these men tryna get money, support, any damn thing she can.” She shakes her head. “That is never gonna be my life.”
“You sound very wise.”
“I wish I was. I’m working here because I messed around in high school being a smartass, and I got no qualifications. I’d be on my mom’s path if I hadn’t gotten a scholarship to go to night school.”
“That’s amazing! What are you studying?”
“Finance. Hoping I can be an accountant if I can force myself through it.” She rolls her eyes like she doesn’t believe it.
“That sounds like a great idea.”
“You gotta have a plan, girl. You really do.”
My only aim has been to find a better job than my mom’s, and I thought I’d done that.
But now Jake’s touched my ass, and I’m essentially homeless, and I think the guy who’s going to be my boss isn’t my biggest fan, no matter what Des says.
I’d like to be a real computer programmer, but if you look at my life, it’s been a series of knee-jerk reactions to pull myself through one problem after another.
She lifts her chin toward the tills by the entrance. “Go pay for your stuff. If you like, I can put some on your face for you.” She waves an arm across the empty store. “Ain’t got nothing else to do. Another reason I like working here: It’s as quiet as the grave.”
I hold out my hand. “Sadie,” I say.
She takes my hand. “Cherelle.”
When I head back to her after paying, she carefully covers up the red mark on my cheek and talks me through how to do it, and I tell her what a star she is, because, if I worked here, that’s what I’d want someone to say to me.
And she is amazing: She’s helpful, kind, and busting her ass to improve her life.
“Thanks so much,” I say as I head off.
Her eyes scan over my face. “You take care of yourself, girl, you hear me?”
Soon I’m out on the street, clutching the makeup and twenty-five dollars lighter.
My paycheck has gone into my personal savings account now, but it’s an advance, so I won’t be getting paid at the end of this month.
I’ve still got to find an apartment and pay a deposit and a month’s rent upfront.
Then there’ll be bills on top of that. Fuck. I need to sit down and work it all out.
Once I’m on the train, I whip my mirror out of my bag and examine my cheek.
It hurts like hell if I press on it, but it looks a lot better.
Thank God for Cherelle. I settle back in my seat, an unfamiliar feeling blooming in my chest. Despite all the mess, I did things today.
I’ve moved out of home, even if it is under slightly distressed circumstances.
I also looked James in the face, and I’ve talked to a lady in a store about makeup.
I escaped from Jake, and that’s the most important one of all.
Now all I’ve got to do is persuade Des that I can’t share an apartment with James.
The following morning, when I examine my face in the hostel bathroom mirror, the top of my cheek is yellow, and a nasty purple bruise has come up beneath my eye.
I cover it up the best I can, but it’s nowhere close to Cherelle’s expert hand.
But when I jump on the train to head into the office, nobody gives me a second glance and my shoulders ease.
I sit at my desk all day with my head down: Who’s going to notice?
I’m feeling pretty good by the time I push through the doors of 90 Water Street.