blankets had fallen down – I had blankets and towels covering the windows because I didn’t even have enough money for curtains.
Even though I had placed a lot of scented candles throughout the place, the place still really smelled like mildew. I was sure the cockroaches came out of the moldings to play with my belongings while I was away.
“You’re quite the watchdog, Jack.” I found my little black-and-white Jack Russell puppy sleeping underneath my bed.
He had separation anxiety and often hid there when the other dogs in the building would start to bark. My handbag was tossed on the bed and I started to remove the smelly restaurant clothes that clung to my figure.
The hamper was full so I threw my dirty clothes over in the corner of the room. Sighing, I realized another trip to the Laundromat was needed.
But where would I find the time?
Or the energy?
The warm spray of the shower eased the aches and pains in my body.
A nice warm bubble bath would be magic to climb into, but mine was the only apartment in the building that didn’t have a tub.
No one tells you that if you drop out of college, you’ll be ending up in a rathole like this and working in a job as an underpaid chef in a high-priced restaurant.
As I toweled off, I saw the newspaper from this morning still spread out on the table. I was looking for a real job, but I dreaded leaving the restaurant because I liked the people that I worked with there.
It was like a huge family, and I had finally started to feel like I belonged somewhere, even if the pay stank.
And all I had to do was make it one year there and I could work anywhere.
My plan was to survive a year, then become a chef on the yachts of the rich and famous over the summer months, and study my butt off during the winter.
That plan was the only thing to get me out of bed some days.
Throwing on my sweatpants, I watched reruns of old television comedies, hoping something might make me laugh and distract me from all this.
None of the jokes did.
They were sad old lines that I had heard a thousand times before.
Sigh.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Damn.
Am I late on my rent payments again?
Oh man.
That means I have to climb off my comfortable couch.
Oh wait.
Why would the landlord be knocking on my door at this time at night?
That mustn’t be my landlord.
Maybe it’s Jim.
Of course, it’s Jim.
He wants what he can’t have.
I sighed again, heaved my body off the couch, and flung the door open.
“Uh? You’re not Jim.”
Chapter 6
The man standing in front of me wasn’t Jim.
Nope. He definitely wasn’t Jim.
Standing in front of me was an older man dressed in a tight suit, standing tall and elegant.
I had seen him before.
“Miss.”
Bradley’s limousine driver…
He stood in front of me bearing three dozen red roses and an elegant card covered in gold foil.
Still holding the roses and their enormous crystal vase, he handed the card over to me, encouraging me to open it right away.
Nervously opening the card, I pulled out its contents.
It appeared to be an invitation addressed directly to me.
The driver could clearly see that I was puzzled.
“Mr. Bradley is requesting your presence,” the limousine driver said in a cordial tone.
“When?” I asked him.
I was a bit embarrassed to be standing at the door in my sweatpants and cartoon slippers.
My hair was still dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, which was fashioned like a turban.
“He is waiting for you as we speak, miss.”
I looked around my empty apartment.
It wasn’t like I had anywhere important to be – but I resented being beckoned like some cheap help.
Not that it was any different from being a chef.
But what would I wear? I had only done my laundry at the Laundromat a few times since I had moved in a month ago. Surely none of my nice clothes were clean.
“Well, mister,” I said to him, not sure
Lisa Mantchev, Glenn Dallas