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Roxanne

“ A re you sure you don’t want me to call movers to help?” I ask for the umpteenth time this morning.

Silver, Raphael, and her bodyguard, Sven, showed up this morning at my door to help me move into my new apartment, the one I dreamed of renting when I walked by it with Candy.

After I cashed Leonard’s check, I decided to splurge for a new living situation. I can’t imagine working in my bedroom anymore, with a bunch of what Leonard called kids playing video games in another room.

I’m excited about the opportunity to have my own company, and I need to start thinking and living like a grown-up. Moving out of that house was the best decision I have ever made and the first step in that direction.

“Why pay for movers if you have two men helping you out?” Raphael’s strained voice comes from behind a big box he carries up the stairs.

“Because it seems like you’re dying?” It sounds like a question, but it’s more of a statement.

They completely underestimated the amount of work they had to do.

Next to me, in my new living room—now full of boxes—my sister chuckles while she points Sven in the general direction of my bedroom.

He nods and carries the box of who knows what in the other room.

He never talks or complains, but I can see he is as tired as Raphael.

“How did you manage to hoard all these things in a single room?” he asks, putting the box on the pile beside me.

“I honestly don’t know. I was thinking the same thing when I was putting everything in the boxes,” I mumble.

“Well, now you have more room for everything, and you don’t have to share that shitty house anymore.” My sister scrunches her nose.

She was never a fan of my living arrangement. She thinks the guys are immature kids who want to play all day without taking on any responsibility, and I agree with her.

“You know? I’m happy you agreed to work with Leonard,” she adds, glancing in my direction. She knows we don’t get along, but she doesn’t know why.

I shrug. “He made an offer I couldn’t refuse.” And it’s true. The money alone was a massive reason to accept, but the contract for my company is something I can’t let slip away.

“Be patient with him,” she murmurs, and her statement gets my full attention.

I turn toward her.

“He’s grumpy most of the time, but he’s a good man. He is completely losing his shit about that money problem,” she continues.

I’m surprised by the worry in her voice. I never understood why she loves him so much, but I suppose she knows him better than me. Raphael’s friends are tight-knit, and I’m sure they will protect each other to the end. For this reason, I’m happy for my sister.

“It seemed a bit desperate when he made me the offer.” I smile, but she doesn’t reciprocate.

Mine dies on my lips.

“He’s worried about losing that company. I don’t know what he would do.” She smiles sadly. “That company is his whole life.”

“He has another—what? Fifteen? He won’t die of starvation,” I point out.

“It’s not about money. It never was,” Raphael chimes in.

I didn’t even realize he came back with another box.

I don’t know how to respond. Their picture of Leonard clashes with my idea of him. I store the information for later; I’m sure I’ll need it when things get hard working with him. Because I know they will get ugly.

“Can you please not tell him where I live?” I ask. I feel like I need to keep this place my sanctuary, and I don’t want to bring my fights with him to my doorstep.

They frown and look at each other curiously, but they don’t ask for an explanation, and I’m grateful for that.

“Come on! You can’t really be asking us to go through this hell,” Raphael complains, even if a smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

They offered to help me pick out furniture for my apartment, or at least, Silver volunteered the three of them to do it. Raphael followed her just because he’s still head-over-heels for her after four years of marriage.

“How will I sleep without a bed? I need a new one!”

“The sign outside claiming they have the best vintage furniture defies the concept of new,” he fires back with a grin.

“You are a smart-ass, aren’t you?”

I walk into a section with couches of all shapes and sizes. I run my fingers over the texture because I want to be sure to choose the most luxuriously comfortable one.

“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to insult a senator,” Silver points out, chuckling.

I roll my eyes. “Of course, he married the other smart-ass.”

This time, even Sven laughs with us. I admit it’s fun spending time with them. I could have told them to go home, considering they’re tired, but I wanted to be a bit selfish for once and enjoy their company a bit longer.

I plop down on the couch, and my sister sits beside me.

“What do you think? Is it comfortable enough?” I ask her.

“Yes, I like how it hugs you when you lean on the back cushions.” She confirms what I already noticed about this sofa.

“You’re not really considering buying this thing, right?” Raphael asks me with a disgusted face.

“Why not?” I look at the couch to see if I missed something I should consider before buying it, but I see nothing peculiar about it.

“It’s bubble-gum pink,” he points out.

“You have stuccos and mosaics in your bathroom. Don’t judge me!”

Sven can’t help but chuckle, earning him a side-eye from Raphael.

“Fair enough,” my sister’s husband concedes.

Sven’s smile fades a bit when he listens to something in his earpiece. He moves toward Raphael and whispers something in his ear, too low for us to hear, but I already know what it is, and my sister does too. She stands up at the exact moment Raphael’s eyes land on mine with an apologetic look.

Before he even speaks, I already know what he’s going to say: Party’s over. Everyone needs to go home.

“Word got out that we’re here and people are gathering to take pictures. Silver and I should go home before the crowd grows. We don’t have full security with us,” he explains.

I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid the craziness of the crowd. Only in the United States are politicians treated like celebrities, and the frenzies surrounding them are disconcerting, but Raphael can’t change reality—not this one, at least.

So, I have to accept not seeing my sister as often as I’d like, but this time I’m grateful to have spent almost all day with her.

“Not a problem. You helped me a lot today. I can take it from here.” I smile at him, but I can see the disappointment in my sister’s face.

“It’s okay, really!” I try to reassure her, but her frown doesn’t disappear.

“Are you sure?” she asks sweetly.

“That I want to avoid being judged by your husband about my taste in interior design? Absolutely positive.” I grin and give her the thumbs up.

I manage to get a laugh out of her and Raphael, and when she hugs me, she promises to make up for this interruption. I know she will. She always keeps her promises.

I watch them disappear out the back door, with Sven urging them inside a car already waiting in the parking lot.

It hits me just now how alone I am. Tonight, I won’t go back to my crowded apartment, and while I’m excited for this new adventure on one hand, this is the first time in twenty-five years I won’t have someone to come home to.

I’ve been adulting for less than five minutes, and I already feel alone. Maybe I’m not fit for this grownup thing.

“May I help you?” The smiling eighteen-year-old salesgirl diverts my attention from the back door. I’m still staring.

“I’d like this couch delivered. Is that possible?” I smile back at her.

She beams. “Of course, we can arrange a delivery. You just need to fill in some paperwork. By the way, I love this couch. I was looking forward to buying it when I get my own space.” She winks at me while I follow her to the register counter.

“Sorry to steal your furniture!” I chuckle.

She giggles. “Don’t worry. It’ll take me awhile to save enough money to leave my parents’ house. And with the commission from this sale, I’ll be closer to reaching my goal!”

“I’m glad I could help.”

It doesn’t take long to buy the couch, fill out the papers, and walk out in the Los Angeles sun.

It’s time to go home. My stomach flutters at the idea.

A mixture of excitement and anxiety makes my insides quiver.

But first, I need some takeout food because I can’t cook to save my life. I guess some things are hard to change.

I procrastinated all day to the point that I started unpacking my boxes instead of diving into my job, but now I need to face the reason why I can afford this place.

I have to try to crack Leonard’s system to figure out how they get in to steal that money.

I’m reluctant to do this because the moment I’m in, things will start to become real.

I’m working for the devil, and I need to face this reality.

I grab my laptop and sit on the only piece of furniture I have in my new home: the mattress lying on the floor, which I brought from the old apartment. I lean my back against the wall and start digging into his systems, starting from the most obvious: the website.

I crack my knuckles, stretch my neck, and take a good sip of my energy drink. I’ll need it to stay up all night—or at least for a few hours. I hope I’m done way before the sun comes up.

My hopes of being done by morning die when the sunbeam hits my legs and the birds outside my window are in a cheerful singing contest. I start to lose hope when noon comes and goes.

I’m on the verge of tears when the sun goes down again, and there are at least ten empty cans of energy drinks scattered over my bed.

I’ve always appreciated a good challenge, and I never back down when things get hard, but right now, my eyes are burning from staring for almost twenty-four hours at the computer, and my stomach hurts from way too much caffeine and lack of food.

“I can’t believe it,” I mutter to myself, standing up and stretching. My back hurts, and I need to take a shower to relieve my aching muscles.

This is the most challenging job I have ever had, and though I expected no less from Leonard Walton, I thought I was better than him at this, and it pisses me off to no end knowing that I’m not even close to winning this battle.

When I walk into the hot spray of the shower, I curse the day I agreed to work for that genius with the devil’s personality.