Page 21

21

ADAIR

I ’m still in that floaty, buzzy headspace when I get home and walk up to my door. The sign taped to it stabs a needle into my mental balloon.

It’s an eviction notice.

I take it off the door with shaking hands and read it. Apparently, while I’ve been diligently paying my rent, my landlord hasn’t bothered to pay the property taxes, and the county is seizing it. Tomorrow morning.

I feel sick and a little dizzy as I punch his number into my phone.

He sounds less perturbed than I expect.

“Shit, so, um, I gotta find a new place like, immediately. Can I get my security deposit back ASAP?”

“Yeah, uh, I gotta see about that,” he mutters. A cold trickle of fear runs down my spine.

“What do you mean?”

“Look — this hasn’t been easy on me, either. You know how many times I had to beg the electric company not to cut you off?”

“But I pay you for utilities.” This is like a bad dream.

“Yeah, well, I needed to put that towards my other places.”

“But that’s illegal! You have to give me my security deposit back!” I realize my voice has gotten louder — and that I’m still standing on the front steps — when a lady taking her dog on a nighttime walk glances at me, frowns, and walks past the house a little faster.

“So fuckin’ take me to court,” he snaps. “And good luck with that. I dunno what to tell you, kid. It’s tough all over.”

As I’m opening my mouth to reply, the bastard hangs up.

I t’s a scramble, but I get all of my shit packed up by the time the sheriff’s department comes by in the morning and padlocks the door. I sleepwalk through my shift at work and pass out in my car until late afternoon. Everything I own is either crammed into my car or the storage unit I rent to store my camping gear.

Standing in the storage unit with my hands on my hips, I stare at my tent as the awful reality hits me: With nowhere to live and not enough money for a security deposit, I’ve only got one option left.

I leave my car parked behind the coffee shop and thumb a ride to the park because I’m too embarrassed to text Gigi for a ride. As the light starts to fade from the sky, I head up an abandoned access road for linemen from when there used to be radio towers on the mountain. It’s not pretty and scenic, so I figure I’ll have it to myself. Even though there’s grass and weeds growing through the gravel, it’s easier to navigate than the single-track trails, given that I’m humping all the shit I need to live out here.

Yeah, it’ll be miserable, but I’m just thankful this didn’t happen in the dead of winter. My tent has been patched more times than I can remember, but this isn’t a beauty contest. It doesn’t have to be pretty; it just has to keep out the rain until I scrape together enough money to get a toehold back into civilization.

I ’ve just started pitching my tent when I see headlights. I curse under my breath and stop what I’m doing, wiping the sweat off my forehead as I watch the beams creep up the access road. They spin around and stop. I sigh when I hear a door slam, followed by the crunch of boots on leaves.

Son-of-a-bitch. Busted. In spite of my careful plan to avoid detection, somebody must have seen the amount of gear I was carrying, gotten suspicious and ratted me out to the rangers.

I’m barely surprised when I see Jack through the trees. He stops at the edge of where I cleared to make a campsite and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re not allowed to be here,” he growls. “Go the fuck home.”

I hang my head. The thought of having to tell Jack that this tent is home, at least for a little while, makes me want to die of embarrassment, but I don’t see any way around it.

“Uh, listen — is it OK if I stay here? It’s just a temporary thing, I swear — I’m not homeless! I just — I just got kicked out of my house by the sheriff’s department and my piece-of-shit landlord won’t give me back my security deposit. I just need a little bit to save up enough money so I can rent somewhere else.” The words all tumble out in a rush. “It’ll be just a few weeks, tops,” I add.

Jack’s thick brows lower. “You’re not living in my fucking park, Addy.”

My heart does a little belly-flop that he’s used my nickname for the first time ever, but I’m too upset to appreciate it.

“Come on, man.” I hate the pleading whine that’s crept into my tone. “Please? I promise I’m a responsible camper. I know all the rules about fire management. I’ll make sure there’s not so much as a speck of an ember before I turn in for the night.”

It’s like he didn’t hear a word I said. “Pack your shit up.” He nods towards my gear, his voice stern. “Now.”

I can’t believe this. He’s completely unmoved by my plight. What a dick.

I know he’s a demanding, demeaning asshole when we hook up. But I’ve been telling myself that when he makes me sob, chokes me until I’m gasping for breath, forces me to lick his boots or finger-fuck myself in preparation for his cock, it’s almost a game — like he’s playing a role or whatever.

I hadn’t wanted to admit that Jack might get a sadistic kick out of toying with me because he thinks I actually am a pathetic loser who deserves to be treated with no respect. But apparently he does. So much for me getting excited about him using my nickname.

“ Fine ,” I snap. I swallow down a lump in my throat, trying to think about how pissed-off I am so I don’t start bawling. I turn away from him and start to disassemble my tent poles. My mind is frantically racing through places where I might be able to sleep tonight.

Jack doesn’t say another word as I pack my shit up like he ordered. He stands off to the side, arms folded, watching me as I get everything loaded onto my back again. I’m adjusting the straps of my pack when he finally breaks the silence.

“Where do you think you’re going with that?”

“ What?” I’m indignant. “Why do you care? I’m getting out of your hair — that’s all that fucking matters to you. You can have your goddamn precious patch of forest back.”

The well of anger inside me turns out to be a gusher.

“It’s not like I expect any special treatment — I know I’m not, like, your fucking boyfriend or anything, or even a fuckbuddy. I know I don’t even matter enough to be a booty call! You’ve made it entirely clear how much you can’t stand me. But I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. I assumed that under the dick attitude, you were enough of a decent human being to be just a little bit understanding about the fact that I’m dealing with seriously shitty luck right now. But no — you’re apparently just an asshole who likes kicking people when they’re down because you fucking can .”

I spit the words at him, almost shouting now. As I shift my pack on my shoulders to better distribute the weight, I turn to glare at him.

The abashed look on his face shocks me out of saying anything else. “Jesus Christ, Bunny,” he mutters. “Quit running your mouth and get your ass in the truck.”