Page 14 of By His Rule

“Apply for this job.” My heart thumps against my ribs at the thought of putting myself out there.

What’s worse than only getting this position because of my friendship with her?

Applying, not being successful, and then having to face those who didn’t think I was good enough.

“Lori, if you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you,” she warns before kissing my cheek and slipping from the apartment, leaving nothing but her ominous threat behind.

“Fuck off,” I bark as my phone continues ringing from somewhere way too close to my head. “Fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off.”

But it doesn’t stop.

Sliding my hand around under the covers, I search for the thing so I can throw it at the wall to make it shut the hell up.

I wince, the brightness of the screen burning through my eyeballs and making my hangover feel a million times worse.

I’ve woken up in a similar state for the past four mornings.

I start each day with good intentions, but then, just like my life, everything goes to shit.

Job searching has been painful. I’ve applied for a handful of positions, but none of them really suit me. There’s a real fear that I’m going to be applying to Starbucks and McDonalds in the coming days if the situation doesn’t resolve itself. It won’t be the first time I’ve made coffee or flipped burgers; I enjoyed my time doing both. But after working so hard to get here, I really don’t want to go back to that.

But beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

I need money. Not for me—well, a little for me—but I’m not the only one relying on my pay check.

Wilder and Hendrix are depending on me. It’s not like they can trust Mom to keep food in their bellies or a roof over their heads.

When my vision clears, I find an unknown number staring back at me.

Before my brain has fully woken up, my hand moves and I find myself swiping across the screen to answer the call.

I don’t know why I do it—maybe so I can shout at whoever thinks it’s okay to call me so bloody early, or maybe it’s the slightly less hungover part of my brain that knows it could be a job opportunity.

“Hello?” I croak, cringing as I hear my own raspy voice.

If this is about a job, I think it’s safe to say I’ve fucked it up already.

“May I speak with Lorelei Tempest?”

My head spins as I try to place the voice, but I come up short.

“Speaking,” I croak again.

“Good morning, Miss Tempest. This is Rebecca Hamilton from Callahan Enterprises. I’m sorry this is so last minute, but I wanted to invite you in for an interview for the position you applied for.”

If I thought my head was spinning before, then it’s completely out of fucking control now.

“I-I didn’t—” I cut myself off as a hazy, drunken memory of my best friend flickers through my head.

“Apply for this job. If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

I drop my head into my hand.

“Miss Tempest, are you still there?”

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