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Ella
Bill, bill, bill.
Flipping through the envelopes, final notice after final notice speared my brain. Tossing them onto the counter, I watched the dollar signs add up and my bank account go into the negative range.
Reaching the last envelope, it was hard not to see the large red stamp that read, 'Urgent Open Immediately.' Inhaling a large breath of air, I held it in as I slid my finger through the flap, peeling the edge away from the paper.
What's this one going to say?
In the back of my mind I knew it wasn't going to be a light and cheery letter. They wouldn't be offering me free money and I didn't have any rich, long lost relatives who left me their millions.
Unfolding the paper, I pressed my back against the counter as I let out the air I had been holding onto and started to read it.
Dear Ms. Day,
This letter is a formal notice that we are taking action due to recent lack of payment. Currently your balance due is in excess of ninety days. We are left with no choice but to send this information to collections. If you would like to dispute this claim, please contact Finley Collection Agency during their normal business hours. . .
The letter went on, but I didn't bother reading it any further. Folding it back up, I stuffed it into the torn envelope and threw it down on the counter.
It didn't matter what they chose to do, I wasn't going to dispute a damn thing, because they were right. I hadn't been paying all my bills like I should have, chosing to pay what I could when I could.
That was the recent story of my life. School loans, credit cards, rent, and everyday expenses were becoming too much for me to handle. But I wasn't ready to stick my tail between my legs and go back home.
Pushing the stack of bills away, I rested my elbows on the counter and pressed my fingertips against my temples. My head was already pounding with an angry headache and my stomach was tumbling with rocks I couldn't get rid of.
I felt defeated.
Something needs to give. I'll take anything at this point.
After graduating college, I had spent the last year looking for steady work. Had I known at the time that having a music degree would leave me struggling to find a job and with a hoard of school debt, I might have opted for a different major.
It was easy to think that now after so many failed attempts to get a permanent teaching position. Even a chance to work at the school of my dreams seemed impossible at this point.
I had been stuck filling in as a substitute. Which would be fine if there were dozens of teachers calling out regularly or going out on some sort of medical leave, but it wasn't like that. The teachers around here were like fucking machines, and there were a ton of other substitutes in the area already, all of us vying for the limited open spots that popped up on occasion.
It came down to experience and regular facetime at the schools. Both of which I didn't have compared to the other teachers around me. Factor in that I was a music teacher, and opportunities dwindled by the dozen.
My dream was, and always had been, to teach at Juilliard. That was the whole point of moving to New York in the first place. But my dream far out weighed the reality, it was a smack in the face. Juliard hadn't called, and I didn't know if they ever would.
So, here I was, picking up random shifts when I was lucky enough to snag one, just trying to make ends meet. But, as all the bills liked to remind me, my debt had outgrown my income. New York was expensive.
Grabbing the newspaper I had picked up the day before, I dropped into the worn chair in my living room, and stared off out the window. The city was still lit brightly, and I could see the Hudson River, glittering under the moon between the two buildings across the street.
The first night in my apartment, I remembered having a smile on my face that I couldn't get rid of as I looked out my window. Tonight there was no hint of a grin at all.
My mind was spinning with ways to make enough money to pay my bills and not have to give up on my dream. I could hear my mother's voice in my ear, warning me that this move was too risky and I should really reconsider my decision.
She wanted me to stay closer to home, taking some time to get teaching experience in my hometown, then make this move once I had my shit straight.
I wouldn't hear it, I was convinced that I'd get my chance to perform at Juilliard and they'd be begging me to start teaching the next day. . . I couldn't have been more wrong.
What the hell was I thinking?
I was too proud to listen and too determined to show her I knew what I was doing. Music was all I ever wanted to do with my life, and this was where I thought I belonged.
My phone pinged, pulling me out of the daze I was in. Picking it up, I looked at the message.
You busy?
It was my best friend, Kayla, and I was relieved. For a second, I thought it was my mother, because for some unknown reason, whenever I thought of her, it was like she could sense it, and I'd see her name on my phone.
'Nope, just got home. What's up?' I texted back.
'It's Justin, he's being a prick. I don't know what to do anymore.' Kayla's message lit up my screen and instantly I felt annoyed. Not with her, but with the douchebag boyfriend she claimed was her world.
'Sorry to hear that.' Rolling my eyes as I typed, I started to type more about how I already knew he was an asshole, but I decided to leave that part out.
'I've been telling you he's no good, what happened this time?' I asked, knowing that was much less combative and wouldn't upset her any more than she already was.
If he was being a dick, she didn't need me to jump on her either.
'He thinks I only go to work to hit on other guys. He just stormed off, pissed, and acting like a tool. In the mood for some company? I really don't want to be alone right now.'
It was almost ten at night, and I had caught a lucky break, landing a half-day shift at the elementary school up on West Seventy-seventh the next morning. But, Kayla was my best friend, I couldn't turn her away when she needed me.
'Of course, come on over. I have a fresh bottle of red with your name on it.'
'Done.' Her text came through and I didn't have to wait long for her to show up. My bell buzzed ten minutes later.
Pushing the button to let her in, I waited with my door open, watching the elevator. The doors opened, and I could tell instantly she was about to burst into tears. She had probably been holding them in since she left her apartment.
Her eyes were swollen and red, her jet black hair was sticking to her face where it was still damp from the tears she had already cried. Wearing gray sweat pants and a pink tank-top, she carried herself like her entire world had just imploded while she was on her way home from the gym.
Oh, Kay, he's not worth a single tear.
"Come here," I said, keeping my thought to myself and holding out my arms to her. It didn't matter how much I hated her boyfriend, if she needed my shoulder, she could have it.
Kayla sludged forward, her shoulders rolling sadly as she wiped her nose. "I don't know what to do, he's jealous over nothing. He said we're done, that he can't deal with it anymore." Her body started shaking as the tears came down hard, so I hugged her tighter.
"Shh, it's alright." Rubbing her back, I guided her inside my apartment. "You know what I think, I think he's just an insecure jackass who doesn't know a good thing when it's staring him right in the face."
Her breathing was heavy as she lifted her face to look at me. "Yeah, but you're supposed to think that, you're my best friend." Her tears thinned as she sniffled and tried to give me a smile.
Ripping a paper towel off the roll, I passed it to her. "Here, wipe easy, this is all I have. I only allow the elite and Chris Pratt to use my aloe vera infused tissues."
That got a giggle as she dabbed her nose. "Thanks, not only do I have to deal with this mess, but my best friend will draw blood to save the nose of the Star Lord."
"You bet your ass. You have seen him right? Can you blame me?"
"The day he's in your apartment, using your tissues, is the day pigs start shitting gold."
We both started laughing and it eased the tension in Kayla's body. Relaxing against my counter, she gripped the edge. "So, I heard there was red wine? I mean, I didn't actually come here to see you. You know that, right?"
"If I didn't use you for your incredible taste in clothes and shoes, I might actually be offended by that. But, I think we both deserve this." Grabbing some glasses, I pulled out the bottle of wine from the small rack in the bottom cupboard, and started opening it up.
"Why? What happened to you?"
Facing away from her, I struggled with the cork as I spoke. "Let's just say people want something I can't give."
"You aren't kidding," she said. I could hear the sound of paper crinkling, and looked over my shoulder to see her holding the collection notice. "What are you going to do?"
"Fuck if I know." Handing her a full glass, I took a big gulp of mine and arched my brows. "What the hell can I do? You can't draw blood from a stone."
"El, what the hell is happening to us?" Swirling her glass, Kayla walked into my living room and dropped into my chair. "It's like we hit twenty-four and our lives suddenly went to shit."
"At least your issue is just a douchebag you can walk away from. I don't think I can hide from the creditors." Sitting on the loveseat under the window, I gave her a big smile. "I hear they have more eyes than the CIA, they can hunt you down anywhere. I'm fucked."
We both started laughing again, and Kayla shook her head, setting her glass on the coffee table. "I can't drop Justin that easily, although I wish I could. But, I love him."
"Do you really love him? Or is it just easier than being alone?" Veering my stare, I gave her my best, 'I know you better than you think,' glare.
"Come on, El, don't give me that look. We have history, of course I love him."
"History?" Cocking a brow, I purse my lips. "Kayla, you two have been together for less than a year. I'd hardly call that history."
Kayla rolled her eyes, sitting deeper into the chair. "It's not something you'd understand, you've never been in love before. It's a feeling, it sits deep inside your chest, and you can't ignore it. When things are good between us, he makes me smile, he makes me laugh, it's like we've known each other our entire lives. That's why I can't walk away."
"Blah," I said, sticking out my tongue. "Did we just step into a cheesy Lifetime movie?"
"I know you don't like him, you've never liked him, but he has good qualities."
"If by good qualities you're referring to his washboard abs and perfectly cut jaw, then sure, he has a couple. But as far as boyfriend material or being good for you—no, Justin sucks ass."
"El—"
Cutting her off, I leaned forward and held my hand up to stop her from talking. "Kay, I get it, you think what you two have is love. But, the way he talks to you sometimes, it pisses me off. You deserve better, we both know that. And if you can't see it, it's my job as your best friend to tell you. Regardless, I'm here for you, even if your choice in men is not the best."
Kayla smirked, picking up her glass and downing the last bit of wine. "I know, but for right now, maybe you can be there for my empty glass instead?" Wiggling her glass, she eyed the bottle of wine.
"That I have no problem doing." Taking her glass, I went back to my small kitchen and filled us both back up.
"Hey, so you need money, right?" she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder.
"Don't we all," I mumbled as I walked back holding our freshly filled cups. "But I won't take any of your money if that's what you're getting at."
"What about taking someone else's?"
"What are you talking about?" Placing her glass down on the table, I plopped back into my seat and laid my legs over the arm.
Kayla was holding the newspaper, peeking her eyes over the top to look at me. "I think I might have just found the answer to your problem." I could hear a playful tone in her voice, and I could picture the smile on her face without having to see it.
"Oh boy, this can't be good. What did you find?" I asked warily, sitting up straight.
Standing up, Kayla passed me the paper. "Third page, in the classifieds section."
Finding the section she said, I scanned the small boxes. "Okay, so what the hell am I looking for?" My eyes search the bold print, seeing ads for cooks and mechanics, people who were searching for lost pets and trying to sell their used junk. "I don't see anything that's going to help me here. I don't need a nineteen-eighty three Volkswagen Rabbit."
"Middle of the page, it's right there." Sitting down beside me, she ran a finger over the print, stopping on a small box. "Here it is." Tapping the paper, she nodded as if all my answers were inside that little block.
The print was bold, the description vague, but the offer was clear as day.
Man Seeking Woman:
I'm a successful business man and I'm looking for a grounded woman to help secure a future for my child. No strings attached, please call if interested. Willing to pay good money if compatible.
"What is it for exactly?"
"How the hell should I know?" she asked, her lip curving to one side.
"I bet it's some creep and this is an ad for like a call girl or something."
"You should call, it doesn't hurt anything to find out."
"And it doesn't hurt to allow yourself some real happiness."
"Hint taken." Nudging my shoulder, she gave me a smile.
"You really think I should call?"
Snatching the paper out of my hands, she scoffed. "Fuck no, are you kidding me? I was just joking, he's probably a serial killer who got lazy." Laying the paper on my coffee table, she scrunched her face in disapproval.
"Well, you might be living with one. So. . ." Giving her a playful shove, she started giggling. Before I knew it, we were both laughing hysterically, good tears running down our faces.
It made me happy to see her smiling that way. For months I had to sit back and watch her slowly drown in the relationship she was in. Most of the time I bit my tongue, doing my best to not start any trouble. For whatever reason, she saw something in him, and I tried to respect that.
But if Justin got too pushy or jerky, that's when I let my inner bitch come out. Kayla might be a silent mouse, afraid to lose that guy, but I wasn't shy about telling him where to stick it.
Which was definitely why he hated me so much, and didn't want her hanging out with me. I was hopeful this was a turning point for her, the moment where clarity would strike her like a lightening bolt and she could see him for who he trully was; a self absorbed asshole.
"Why don't we just forget our problems right now, we still have half a bottle to finish." Kayla snatched her wine off the table and held it up. "Let's toast. To fresh starts and good fortune."
Clinking my glass against hers, I took a long sip. "Good fortune, huh? Maybe I should call that number. . ."
"El, don't even think about it. That right there is a man looking for a quick fuck without having to leave the comfort of his home. What other reason is there for an ad like that?"
"I don't know, maybe he's looking for a nanny or something. He might need someone to tidy up his home and make sure his kids get to school on time."
"Or," she said, pointing a finger in my direction. "He's looking for some unexpecting victim to chain up in his basement."
"Even that doesn't sound too bad right now, I bet the creditors wouldn't find me there." Giggling, my eyes kept running over the text on the paper, rereading the vague and undescriptive ad.
I couldn't say I wasn't a little curious about it. I needed money, something steady to get me through this downward spiral my life was taking.
Something like this could help.
No, it's dangerous. Kayla's right, he's probably just looking for sex.
"Please tell me you're not serious."
"What? Come on, you know me better than that."
Kayla's eyes were set on mine as her brows arched high. "You're right, I do. And the tone in your voice right now tells me that you're really debating this. I regret even showing you that ad now. I was only kidding, you do realize that, right?"
"Stop, Kay, you don't need to worry." Resting my feet on the coffee table, I held the glass between my bent knees, tapping my nails against the surface. "I'm not that desperate."
Am I?