Austen sat on a stool, beside her friend of ten years.
They sat in Julia’s West Loop condo, drinking coffee, the balcony doors open, enjoying the late-morning sun.
Julia owned a hair salon called Exposure, just three blocks from where she lived. She considered herself the best weave artist in all of Chicago. Her motto was, “I’ll take you from bald to Beyoncé in just two hours.”
Julia had an eight-year-old daughter, Jasmine, who she had already dropped off at school when Austen had called and said she needed to have “a life-and-death conversation.”
Austen had just disclosed the details of the dilemma she was facing. Afterward, Julia’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew to the size of ping-pong balls.
“No, no, no, ho, ho, hold up,” Julia said, waving a hand. “This woman just pops up out of the blue, talking about she wants to give you half a million dollars to marry her gay brother? This stuff don’t happen to real people.”
“It happened to me,” Austen said, sipping from her coffee.
“Why in the hell would you even consider such a thing? You told her to kiss your ass, right?”
Julia didn’t know anything about Austen’s fall from grace. She didn’t want her friend feeling sorry for her, treating her like she was a charity case.
“No, I didn’t quite tell her to kiss my ass.”
“Okay, you said something more like, ‘Fuck you, skank? Screw you, bitch?’ What?”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“And exactly why did you say that?”
“Julia,” Austen said, getting up from her stool and stepping away from the breakfast bar. “There are things I haven’t told you about my situation. I haven’t sold a house in I don’t know how long, which means I’m not making money.”
Julia stood. “But when I asked you if you were okay with—”
“I lied. I wasn’t okay with money, and as of right now, I’m just about broke. I’ve depleted all my savings, I’ve sold all my furniture.”
“Why are you selling all your furniture? Please don’t say for money to live.”
“Okay, I won’t, but that’s why. And more to the point, in two days, I might not have anywhere to keep what little I have left because my place has been foreclosed on.”
Sorrow appeared on Julia’s face as she sighed deeply. “Why didn’t you come to me? I could’ve helped you.” Julia looked around her place, like she was picking out a spot to stick a cot. “You know what? You can stay here till you—”
“No. You have a two-bedroom condo and a daughter,” Austen said. “I truly appreciate it, but you already have someone to take care of.”
“So that’s why you told that lady you’d think about it?”
“Yeah,” Austen said. “I know what I should do, but I needed my best friend’s input just to make sure.”
“Austen,” Julia said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you to do this if—”
“You aren’t telling me,” Austen said. “I really just need to know what you think. Please. I really value your opinion.”
Julia shook her head. “I hate to say this, but if you have no other options, baby, I really think I would do it.”