4. GiveTake the Blowtorch #2
A few minutes later, we pull up to the cat-sitter’s house in Sausalito, a few miles away from where I lived recently with Fuck Chad.
I’ll need to get my things from his place and have someone bring my things from the hotel in Lucky Falls, but I’ll figure that out later.
For now, I retrieve a pink crate containing a tiny orange kitten who meows excitedly at the sight of me, as if saying, I did good, didn’t I?
I scratch under his chin. “Yes, you did, little guy. Thank you for looking out for me.”
When I’m back in Rhonda’s car, with Furby tucked safely onto the backseat, she asks, “Where to next?”
I’ve already texted Isla and Leighton to see if they can meet me. Because what does a runaway bride need most? Her friends.
“High Kick Coffee.” I give Rhonda directions to Leighton’s favorite coffee shop.
Of course, the owner happens to be Tyler’s grandmother.
But the man who left me a heartfelt note after I drunkenly threw myself at him won’t be there today because he’s golfing.
I never thought I’d say this but thank god for little white balls.
I’m not sure I could face Tyler yet, even though I’ve already decided I’ll keep that note forever.
Facing him at Luna’s next skating lesson? That’s future Sabrina’s problem.
As we drive toward the coffee shop, I share more of my epic spiral with Rhonda, including my current state of homelessness.
She listens, then dives right into problem solving.
“I’ve got a friend who owns a vegetarian hot dog place called Garlic Crush.
She’s got a little micro-studio above it.
She’s been thinking of renting it as an Airbnb but hasn’t listed it yet. I could ask her.”
Rhonda’s offer feels like a lifeline, but it’s also a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.
A hot dog place and garlic fumes aren’t exactly my dream.
But then again, when your life’s a pile of ashes, you can’t be picky about where you start rebuilding.
Besides, I know exactly what rent looks like in San Francisco—way out of my league.
But my business is here, and I need to be close to potential clients.
I force myself to smile. “I’d appreciate it if you could ask her.”
“Count on it.” Rhonda beams.
“Are you a fairy godmother?”
Rhonda shakes her head kindly. “Nah. I’m just someone in the right place at the right time to help.”
When we reach the coffee shop, I ask how much for the ride.
“Free for you,” she says with a smile.
“Rhonda, you need to make a living.”
“Sabrina, I need to do nice things for other women too. This is how we help each other.”
I smile, feeling warm and fuzzy. Women helping women. I like that. “Thank you.”
She waves me off with a dismissive, “Don’t worry about it.”
But I’m crafty. Once I get out of the car, I find her on Venmo, send her a tip, and include a GIF of a rainbow-shooting cat.
Because sometimes, the smallest gestures can say the most.
* * *
“Shhh,” I whisper to Furby as he meows from under the table I’m sharing with Leighton and Isla at High Kick Coffee.
But Furby isn’t having it. He lets out another dramatic little mewl.
“Maybe meeting here wasn’t the best idea,” I admit, trying to hush the kitten in the pink crate beneath me. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed. Mostly, he’s just chatty.
“He’s fine,” Leighton says with a wave of her hand. “Birdie doesn’t mind animals, as long as they steer clear of her espresso machine.” Birdie’s the shop owner, and Leighton knows her well since she’s her boyfriend’s grandma. “Her exact words.”
“That’s fair,” Isla says, thoughtfully brushing a strand of chestnut hair off the fair skin of her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “Do you know how hard it is to get fur out of an espresso machine?”
I blink at her. “I don’t, actually. Do you?”
“Very hard,” she says with the confidence of someone who always has an answer. Well, she’s not the city’s best matchmaker for nothing. “But let’s talk about your situation.”
Leighton turns to me, she’s all business. Fiercely independent, Leighton knows a thing or two about surviving in this city. “All right. I have some ideas for you while you figure out if the garlic lifestyle is for you. And the place I have in mind is pet-friendly.”
“That’s key,” I say. Even though I’m only responsible for Furby for a few more weeks, I promised the rescue to give him a place to stay until he’s ready to be adopted.
Isla doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls out her iPad and begins tapping. “Let’s start a project planner for you. We’ll list options and figure out what makes the most sense.”
Leighton nods to Isla and asks me, “How lucky are we to have the world’s most organized person as a friend?”
“The luckiest,” I reply, grinning.
Isla brightens, radiating Disney-princess energy. She could summon chipmunks to alphabetize a forest. “We’re all the lucky ones,” she says.
“We are,” Leighton seconds then adds casually, “you can always stay with Miles and me.”