Page 21

Chapter Twenty

Lux

“What’d you say this place was again?” I ask casually, leaning over to peek out the window.

Lisa looks up from her plants and puts her watering can down. “Community living.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, pressing my forehead against the glass. “Is that Dante from The Velvet Room?”

I squint at the parking lot. A big burly man strolls toward a black BMW, bopping his head to the tune in his headphones. It is Dante.

“Uh...yeah.” She turns away from me, strolling into the kitchen. “He lives here, too. He’s the one who told me about it.”

That’s so strange. Dante, the weeknight bouncer from the bar, is the third person I’ve seen here who works with us.

“It’s like a Velvet Room commune,” I joke, trying to laugh it off, but a weird feeling makes my stomach churn.

I pull myself away from the window and plop onto the sofa—which is, thankfully, very big and comfortable. Sleeping here last night was rough, regardless. I silently cried myself to sleep, wondering what the hell got into Dominic.

A small, stupid part of me hoped he’d call or at least send me a text to make sure I was okay, but all I got was radio silence. I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking it for the millionth time this morning. Nothing.

Lisa joins me, passing me a steaming mug of tea, and flips on the TV. We sit in silence for a bit, watching a group of silly game show contestants battle for a free dinner.

“So,” Lisa starts, eyeing my face, “is that bruise the reason you're sleeping on my couch?”

I sigh, placing my mug on the coffee table. “Yes and no.”

“Very mysterious,” she scoffs, but she pats my arm comfortingly. Lisa isn’t the most emotional person, but she tries to be understanding. “Did your new man do that to you?”

“No,” I say vehemently. “He would never.”

“Okay, if you don’t want to share the details, I’m not going to pry. You’ll have to use a thicker concealer for work though, or Carlo’s going to be pissed.”

I stare at the TV, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t really know how to tell Lisa I’m not coming to work with her tonight. Or that our boss beat me up in his office for some mysterious betrayal that I didn’t commit.

“Right,” I manage to choke out.

“Imagine what he’d do if he saw one of his best girls with a busted face?” she chuckles. “Sorry, it’s not funny. I have issues dealing with…serious topics.”

I smile, nudging her with my elbow. “Laugh through the pain, I get it. Don’t worry.”

A bang on the door makes me jump, nearly slipping my tea onto my lap. Lisa gives me a concerned glance before getting up to open it.

“You good, Lux?” she asks, reaching for the doorknob. “You’re so jumpy.”

“Fine, fine,” I smile, smoothing down my sweatpants. “Totally fine.”

“Uh-huh, that’s convincing,” she mutters under her breath before pulling the door open.

A delivery guy thrusts a package into her hands and she signs for it. I relax and focus my attention back on the game show.

I don’t know why I’m so jumpy. No, I know, it’s because my life’s falling apart. Am I expecting Carlo to bust in here and beat me up again? Dominic to swoop in on his white horse and put a ring on my finger?

I shake my head, laughing at my overactive imagination. So, she lives in a weird old mansion at the edge of town and half the staff from The Velvet Room also happen to live here. That’s not weird or creepy.

“I quit my job,” I blurt out as soon she settles onto the sofa beside me. Her head whips around, her eyes boring into the side of my face. I nod, confirming it’s true.

“Why on earth?” she cries, muting the TV and forcing me to look at her. “You know that place pays double the hourly wage of any bar, restaurant, or cafe in this town. And the tips…Lux, you’re insane.”

“I know, I know,” I lament, rubbing my face with my hands. Think of a lie. Think of a lie. Or tell her the truth?

“Carlo slapped me.”

“What?” Her voice rises an octave and her eyes go wide as saucers.

I point to my cheek lamely. “It was him.”

She stares at me in shock. Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

“When he called me into his office the other night,” I explain. “He accused me of betraying him and slapped me.”

“Oh,” her eyes light up like she’s made a connection that I seem to be missing. “That makes sense.”

“What?”

“What?”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “How does that make sense?”

“I can’t believe he slapped you!” she says at the same time and we both pause, staring at each other.

“Whatever, just watch out for him,” I say, exhausted by the conversation already. I slouch into the couch, daring it to swallow me whole and put me out of my misery. “He’s not as harmless as he seems.”

“I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she snaps, defiance written across her face like war paint.

“Nope,” I reach over and pat her thigh. “I’d like you to keep your job so that I can crash on your couch, please.”

She scoffs but drops the subject. “Okay, I should get ready for work. What are you going to do tonight?”

“Find a damn job,” I wail, hiding my face in the pillows. She pats my back gingerly and heads to her bedroom.

“There’s a computer in the common area if you need it,” she says before shutting the door.

Right, the common area. You mean the very old-fashioned family living room of this creepy mansion?

***

An hour later, I’m curled into a ball on the sofa in the “common room” clutching the laptop. People keep wandering in and giving me strange looks.

At first, I waved and said hello, but apparently, community living has nothing to do with friendliness.

After being routinely ignored by everyone, I’ve given up. I turn my attention back to the screen, scrolling through job listings.

Looking For: Personal Assistant to Tech Guru

20 hours per week. Flexible schedule. Light admin work and file management required. Female preferred.

Interesting. That doesn’t sound too bad.

After getting fired from all three of my jobs, something less customer-facing sounded nice. I click on the link and nearly choke on my own saliva. The salary is more than I could have ever dreamed of making—even with three jobs.

And benefits? My eyes widen as I read through the list: dental, health, gym membership, relocation costs. I nearly close all my tabs in my haste to click on the application button. It takes me to my email box and I check out the address.

Okay, Enzo Riviera, I’ll be your personal assistant.

I quickly whip up a new resume, including a few little white lies, and type out a friendly email. After that, I browse the wanted ads a bit more, but nothing catches my attention. It’s hard to compete with a legitimate salary and full benefits, I guess.

Needing to stretch my legs a bit, I log out and leave the laptop where I found it. I spin around the room, trying to decide where to explore first.

A giant flat-screen TV mounted above an ornate fireplace plays some football game on mute. Velvet couches circle the TV area, a low antique-looking coffee table between them. At the rear of the room, I pass a few desks and stacked bookshelves.

With the staircase back to Lisa’s room on my right, a mystery door beckons me to my left. I walk over and knock softly, not knowing whether this is someone’s personal space.

When all I hear is silence, I push it open. It leads to a small but neatly arranged mudroom. I step down, peeking through the glass pane in front of me.

A garden! How beautiful!

Lisa’s room happens to look out onto the parking lot, so this is a nice surprise. I step into the crisp evening air and the scent of roses surrounds me. I breathe in deeply, savoring the sweet scent.

My nose leads me down a path that turns into a perfectly manicured English rose garden. I take a seat on a stone bench and let my eyes roam. This would be an amazing place to sit and paint all day, I think wistfully.

My phone rings, and I pull it out, squinting at the cracked screen. Private number. My heart skips a beat—maybe it’s Dominic, trying to be covert?

“Hello?” I answer, my voice sounding a little too breathless and excited.

“Uh, hey,” an unfamiliar male voice greets me. “Is this…Lux Davis?”

“That’s me,” I confirm. “Unless you’re the police, a lawyer, or collections.”

A second of silence stretches far too long. I’m about to jump in and explain that it was a bad joke when I hear a deep chuckle from the other side.

“You’re a funny one, huh?”

“To my own detriment,” I say casually. “Who is this, exactly?”

“Right, hello,” he clears his throat. “I’m Enzo. Enzo Riviera…the tech guru?”

“Do people actually call you that or did you name yourself?” I blurt without thinking.

Jesus Christ, Lux, control yourself. This man is calling to hire you. His booming laugh makes me jump and stretch the phone away from my ear.

“Okay, Lux,” he says finally, wheezing out a final chuckle. “I need to meet you. Can you do Friday at noon for an interview?”

I sit up straighter, panicking and smoothing down my hair even though he can’t see me. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there with…”

I trail off, realizing that if I say another weird thing, he might change his mind.

“With bells on?” he finishes for me.

“Precisely,” I smile.

“Not part of the uniform, but I can make an exception,” he teases. I can hear the smile in his voice and immediately decide that Enzo’s exactly the type of man I’d like to work for. We agree on a location and say our goodbyes.

I jump up from the bench and do a little happy dance. If I land this job, it can change everything for me.

Although my heart still hurts, pining for Dominic, this feels like a step in the right direction. I stroll back to Lisa’s room, not even minding the creepy mansion vibes anymore.

***

I wake up on Friday morning feeling better than I have in days. My IUD removal sucked, but the baby is okay. And it was reassuring to see a doctor. I'm just glad that parts over.

Although my cheeks are still tear-streaked when I look in the mirror, I manage to crack a smile. My bruise has also mostly faded.

Dominic may have broken my heart and forgotten that I exist, but I can build my life back up. I might be pregnant and penniless, but I’m still perky and funny and willing to work hard. The first order of business is getting this damn personal assistant job.

I treat myself to a long luxurious shower until Lisa bangs on the door, begging to use the toilet. She glares at me as I stroll out, smelling like her very expensive body wash and shampoo. All is forgiven after I make her a coffee.

She helps me put together a professional but casual outfit, acting as excited as I feel about this interview.

“Good luck,” she yells as I breeze out the door, higher than I’ve felt in a while. “You’re going to kill it!”

I thank my lucky stars when the bus arrives on time, my transit card works, and I get there in one piece. Luck is on my side today, I tell myself. I strut down the street, cheering myself on.

Enzo and I agreed to meet in a small coffee shop in mid-town. Since I’m actually early for once, I get off a stop earlier and walk. The sun shines on my face, a warm summer breeze keeping me cool.

When I get to the business district, I fall in line with bankers, lawyers, and other suited men and women.

People stream out of gleaming high-rise buildings on their way to grab lunch. Others take their lunches outside, lounging on the wide steps of the central library in small groups.

The city feels alive, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like somebody. Not just “Bad Luck Lux”, the struggling waitress trying to make a living, but like someone who belongs.

Maybe it’s the tiny life growing within me, but I don’t feel alone. And I should feel alone. Press a hand to my flat stomach and smile a little.

We’ve got this , I think to the little life within me. I daydream for a moment, considering whether the baby will look like me or like its father. However, thinking about Dominic makes my heart ache, and I immediately try to direct my thoughts in another direction.

I spot The Beanery on the other side of the street and check my phone. Five minutes to go. Perfectly on time for once.

Pausing in front of a mirrored office building, I check my lipstick and smooth down my hair. A familiar figure catches my attention in the reflection, and I spin around, frozen in place.

Dominic walks out of The Beanery, a half-finished iced coffee in his hand. Our eyes meet across four lanes of midday traffic. My first urge is to run.

Away from him or toward him? I’m not entirely sure.

Then I throw my shoulders back, hold my head up high, and strut across the crosswalk.

My mission today is to get that job, Dominic be damned.