fate. The other part of me whispers in the back of my mind, telling me that things can still be warm and safe. I need to smack her over the head with a frying pan. That little voice in the back of my head is going to ruin me. She never stops hoping, even when there’s nothing left to hope for. I gag that fragment of my brain and lock her away with my pride. Tonight is about getting to tomorrow. It’s about surviving and that’s it. Nothing else matters.
My dress swishes against my bare thighs as I take the stairs two at a time. My Chucks are on my feet in case I have issues with my car. There are always issues with my car. If I really take more clients, like Mel encouraged me to do, I can replace the misfit car with something that actually runs. I’d like that. But maybe not. This car is one of the only connections I have to my father. I worked on it with him, taping it up when it dumped oil all over the drive way. It’s always been a bad car, but maybe I’ll keep it anyway.
As I round the corner, I run into Amber. She’s sitting on the stairs with her face in her hands, all hunched over. I came this way to avoid people. As it is, I got three cat calls walking down the hallway and one was from a girl. I pause. There’s nothing I’d like more than to kick Amber and run down the stairs laughing, but I don’t.
I sigh dramatically and sit next to her, ignoring the dirty floor a nd my insanely expensive dress. “Hey, bitch,” I say teasingly. “Why are you hiding in the stairwell?”
Amber lifts her face. I t’s covered in a sheen of tears and snot. Gross. I hand her a tissue. She takes it and looks at me like I’m insane. “Are you here to gloat?”
“No, I came this way so no one would see me spray start my car. It’s parked at the end of the building in that dark lot. As soon as I put the hood up, guys flock over like I’m too stupid to start my own car.”
She snorts, “Yeah, well…” I can tell she has something nasty on her tongue, but Amber swallows it and looks sheepish. “You have more guts than me. I’ve put my hood up, if you know what I mean, just to get a guy to talk to me.”
“Yeah, I realize that. You’re a prickly bitch when you want to be, but it’s like you ’re bipolar or something because there’s a sassy smart mouth in there too. I’m guessing she lost that battle of the alter egos.”
Amber holds onto her knees and dabs her face with the tissue. “Yeah, something like that. It’s easier to get guys to like me when I act like that.”
“You know they don’t really know you, right? I mean, if that’s not really you. At this point, I’m not really sure who you are.”
“Me neither,” Amber says. Turning her head toward me, she looks at me and finally sees me. “What are you wearing?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling nervous. “Nothing. I have a date and can’t wear heels driving my car. It stalls a lot.”
“I heard you ch ased down some dick who stole that car out from under you.” There’s an expression on her face that I haven’t seen before—respect.
“I did. Several times.” Wonderful, my legacy is the crazy chick who chases a car that’s well past its expiration date.
“I wish I had guts like that. It’s like you don’t care what people think of you.” There’s a far off look in her eye, like she can’t fathom being that way.
I don’t know how to answer her. My life is a mess. I stand and say, “The room’s empty if you want it. I won’t be back tonight.” I start to walk down the stairs.
Amber calls after me. “Where’s your crazy friend?”
“Out,” I call back, and then I’m out of sight. I don’t understand that girl. Awh, hell, I don’t understand anything. I should really stop trying. I spend half my life trying to get a grip on things, but they just slip through my fingers in the end. I’m lucky I know my ass from my elbow. There’s no clear cut answer for anything anymore.
The air is crisp and cold. My breath makes
My dress swishes against my bare thighs as I take the stairs two at a time. My Chucks are on my feet in case I have issues with my car. There are always issues with my car. If I really take more clients, like Mel encouraged me to do, I can replace the misfit car with something that actually runs. I’d like that. But maybe not. This car is one of the only connections I have to my father. I worked on it with him, taping it up when it dumped oil all over the drive way. It’s always been a bad car, but maybe I’ll keep it anyway.
As I round the corner, I run into Amber. She’s sitting on the stairs with her face in her hands, all hunched over. I came this way to avoid people. As it is, I got three cat calls walking down the hallway and one was from a girl. I pause. There’s nothing I’d like more than to kick Amber and run down the stairs laughing, but I don’t.
I sigh dramatically and sit next to her, ignoring the dirty floor a nd my insanely expensive dress. “Hey, bitch,” I say teasingly. “Why are you hiding in the stairwell?”
Amber lifts her face. I t’s covered in a sheen of tears and snot. Gross. I hand her a tissue. She takes it and looks at me like I’m insane. “Are you here to gloat?”
“No, I came this way so no one would see me spray start my car. It’s parked at the end of the building in that dark lot. As soon as I put the hood up, guys flock over like I’m too stupid to start my own car.”
She snorts, “Yeah, well…” I can tell she has something nasty on her tongue, but Amber swallows it and looks sheepish. “You have more guts than me. I’ve put my hood up, if you know what I mean, just to get a guy to talk to me.”
“Yeah, I realize that. You’re a prickly bitch when you want to be, but it’s like you ’re bipolar or something because there’s a sassy smart mouth in there too. I’m guessing she lost that battle of the alter egos.”
Amber holds onto her knees and dabs her face with the tissue. “Yeah, something like that. It’s easier to get guys to like me when I act like that.”
“You know they don’t really know you, right? I mean, if that’s not really you. At this point, I’m not really sure who you are.”
“Me neither,” Amber says. Turning her head toward me, she looks at me and finally sees me. “What are you wearing?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling nervous. “Nothing. I have a date and can’t wear heels driving my car. It stalls a lot.”
“I heard you ch ased down some dick who stole that car out from under you.” There’s an expression on her face that I haven’t seen before—respect.
“I did. Several times.” Wonderful, my legacy is the crazy chick who chases a car that’s well past its expiration date.
“I wish I had guts like that. It’s like you don’t care what people think of you.” There’s a far off look in her eye, like she can’t fathom being that way.
I don’t know how to answer her. My life is a mess. I stand and say, “The room’s empty if you want it. I won’t be back tonight.” I start to walk down the stairs.
Amber calls after me. “Where’s your crazy friend?”
“Out,” I call back, and then I’m out of sight. I don’t understand that girl. Awh, hell, I don’t understand anything. I should really stop trying. I spend half my life trying to get a grip on things, but they just slip through my fingers in the end. I’m lucky I know my ass from my elbow. There’s no clear cut answer for anything anymore.
The air is crisp and cold. My breath makes
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