“O—kay. Let’s get this over with then. Keep your key between your fingers.”
She pinned me with a side glare, shoving her door open and hopping out. But as we rounded the vehicle, I could see the key sticking out between her fisted fingers.
Two grimy men, some suspiciously wrinkled paperwork, and one hour later, we were gunning it out of the parking lot. “Okay, you were right, that place was shady as fuck,” she said.
I responded with an exaggerated, wide-eyed nod. It had been the right place, they’d had paperwork ready for us and everything, but it had been the most awkward experience I’d had in a while.
The two men hadn’t even assisted us with getting Layla’s car onto the trailer. In fact, they’d acted like they’d never done it before in their lives, so we’d had to figure it out ourselves. It’d taken longer than we’d wanted, and we were now behind schedule.
“At least it was cheap.”
We arrived at the apartment she’d been sharing with a friend from college. We were both starving, but neither of us had felt confident attempting to grab a quick bite with the truck and trailer.
We’d be lucky if we made it the entire trip without getting stuck somewhere as it was. Our driving skills weren’t something to brag about even on the best of days.
But two hours, two sets of sore, shaking arms, and two pairs of sweaty pits and tits later, we were done packing.
“Why do you have so much stuff? Where are we going to put all of this?” I asked, sagging against the driver door. The thought of raising my noodle arms to hold the steering wheel for the next few hours sounded horrendous.
“It’s not as much as it looks. It’s mostly clothes. And shoes,” she said, walking toward the apartment door one last time.
I huffed a laugh. My fashion sense tended to be ‘thrift store snazzy,’ whereas Layla’s was ‘come get me sexy.’ She’d always had the most amazing closet.
“I really don’t think all your bedroom pieces and your music stuff will fit in the room, Layla. The rooms are small.”
“Eh, I’ll shove it all in the garage since you don’t use it. The acoustics will be bomb in there anyway.” She disappeared into the apartment to give one final look over and to grab her fur baby.
I walked around and gripped the rope to pull the rolling door shut, eyeing Layla’s keyboard and sound system. She’d been singing and performing since she was old enough to hold a guitar, and there was literally no one who could hold a candle to her. Banjo, violin, electric, twelve string, she could play them all.
During middle school, she’d even added piano to the mix. I was just patiently waiting for her to become famous and support me for the rest of my life like the dependable baby daddy she was.
Confirming the back was latched and wouldn’t fly open, I’d just started turning when something slammed into the backs of my knees, sending me forward and smacking my forehead into the truck.
“What the hell, Sadie?” I yelled, shooting a glare at the wet nose and lolling tongue staring up at me. That adorable face silently watched me rub my forehead while her butt moved a mile a minute. “Yeah, yeah, hello to you too, mutt.”
Sadie was a pit-bull, golden retriever mix, and at only a few years old, she was as sweet as she was rambunctious. We’d already shoved her giant bed in-between the captain chairs of the truck cab, and I opened the door, letting her leap in.
“We all set?” I turned to see Layla locking the front door with a licorice stick hanging out of her mouth.
“Yup. Let’s get on the road, bitch!”
Wine shot out of my nose, sending flames through my sinus passages and tears to the corner of my eyes. I flailed my hands in front of my face, coughing and wheezing. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“In the same weekend?” I somehow croaked out in the midst of my coughing fit. I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Wine would be sloshing around my brain for at least a week after this.
She continued, unfazed by my near-death experience next to her. “I mean, I would’ve voted for us to all join together, but sadly they weren’t down for crossing swords. Shame, but we can’t have it all, I guess.”
I dropped my hand, squinting my eyes open to look at her. “You’re joking.”
She burst out laughing, reaching over to pat my thigh. “Yes, you poor sap, I’m completely full of shit. I don’t like to share, you know this.”
Shaking my head, I took a—carefully controlled this time—sip of my rosé. It was Thursday evening, five days after Layla and I had packed up her life.
We’d arrived half-dead, but safe, to the duplex late Sunday night, and it’d already been one of the best weeks I’d had in years. I hadn’t realized just how lonely I’d been, how deprived I was of non-work-related, adult interaction.
Jamie’s reaction had been icing on the cake. We’d picked him up from my parents Monday morning, and he’d been jabbering so much, it’d taken him a solid two minutes to realize she was sitting up front with me. He might have actually stopped breathing for a moment.
His eyes had resembled a shining pair of anime eyes, and his voice had screeched out a shocked, “What?!” when she informed him she’d moved in with us.
Every day since had been amazing. After work Monday, I’d actually been able to shower before bedtime without feeling guilty about sacrificing Jamie’s and my evening game session. Layla had talked so much smack about beating him that he’d challenged her to take my place.
She’d turned and winked at me when he rushed to start up the system, tipping her head toward my bedroom door. I’d almost kissed her.
Tuesday, I’d picked up Jamie and came home to find dinner cooked and ready; a slow cooker meal that made the entire house smell like fall. Not having to prepare a meal had given me an entire extra hour to study, which in turn, meant I got an entire extra hour of sleep that night.
Yesterday, I’d walked in the front door to find her folding our freshly laundered clothes while our pups wrestled on the floor at her feet. I didn’t know where she’d gone to wash them, but she could have washed them in a river, and I wouldn’t have cared. It was one more chore marked off my never-ending list.
Granted, I knew things would change when she started working, but I was going to soak up the help while I could.
Now we were outside, slouched in white, plastic chairs she’d purchased yesterday from the dollar store, and drinking. Not wanting to make numerous trips inside and risk waking Jamie up, we’d brought the entire box of wine out with us. Throw in a full bowl of popcorn and our comfiest sweaters and leggings, and we were over here living our best lives.
Layla pulled out her phone to play music, but I made an excuse about wanting to enjoy the peace and quiet. If I told her about the note my neighbor left, she’d only demand to blare the music even louder. She didn’t take anyone’s shit.
I was known to bite when provoked, usually because of people like the bitch of a neighbor, Kathy, but I didn’t enjoy it. Confrontation made me itchy.
“Seriously, though, Mads, what do you do for fun? If you suddenly had an entire weekend of paid vacation and your parents watched Jamie, what would you do?” She took a giant handful of popcorn, cramming it all into her mouth and looking at me like a deranged chipmunk.
“Sleep.”
“Fuck off, I’m serious.”
I reached between us for the wine and poured another glass. Did I need it? No. But I was about to have a weekend full of double shifts, so I was determined to enjoy my last evening at home this week.
“I’m serious, too. I wouldn’t even know what else to do. The few times I’m relaxed with Jamie and not studying, I’m building a train set with him or watching animated movies.”