Page 40 of Power Play

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I’ll just drive us.”

She shook her head, and if there was one thing I knew about Kit, well two, it was that she was a liar, and she was stubborn as hell. When she put her little chin in the air like that, I knew I didn’t have a chance.

“Fine. But take an Uber. We don’t have time for the bus.”

“You paying?” she asked.

“Holy shit, you are stubborn,” I muttered.

“Nope,” she said. “Just broke.”

I walked over to the drawer in my entertainment console. I pulled it open and pulled out two twenties from the pile that sat in there.

“Is that my money? Just sitting in a drawer?” Her face was screwed up in righteous outrage.

“Technically, it’s my money,” I told her.

“You’re not even using it!”

“What are you talking about? I’m using it now.” I shook the twenties at her. “I’ll text you Harrison’s address. And…” I looked her up and down because this drawer of money made me an asshole and I knew it. “Do you own a dress or anything? The WAGS will be dressed up.”

“For a pool party?”

“They come with multiple outfit changes,” I said, scratching my chin. “I can never wrap my head around it.”

“Well, I’ll come with a suit, shorts and a t-shirt.” She snapped that money out of my hand so fast I got a paper cut. “I’m not a WAG. I’m the nanny, remember?”

10

Kit

There was no way I was going to let Liam see where I lived. No chance. It was bad enough he saw a few of my jobs.

I didn’t need him knowing any more of my business. This pool party thing was already too much, but for five grand off the debt? And Tess with her goggles and gap-toothed smile. What could I do? Honestly. I was made of regret and bus fare – not stone. But I could draw the line at letting him give me a ride to where I lived.

The Uber drove past check cashing places and liquor stores. The boarded-up Dollar Store that had been broken into.

“We close?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just a left down here.”

Off the main drag there were residential houses. Lots of them with overgrown yards and too many broken down cars in the driveways.

“Here,” I said, and he stopped in front of a cheery yellow house with a gorgeous garden and bars on all the windows.Ms. Rene, my landlord/roommate, ran a tight ship in the worst neighborhood in Portland. I had my suspicions she could move out, but she’d lived on this block, in this two story Victorian, her whole life.

“They’ll move me out feet first,” she liked to joke.

I lived on the second floor, for a reasonable rent, and looked after Ms. Rene, who didn’t really need it. She’d lived in Maine her whole life and owned her own hair salon for fifty years. Mr. Rene, (I had no idea if that was his last name, or her first name and she just called him that) passed a few years ago. I got the feeling she liked having people living in the house.

For my part, she was excellent company. She cooked a giant dinner for me on Sunday and left a plate in the oven on most other nights. Plus, her garden was really something. The irises were singing their last songs but the lilacs would be next and then the show-stopping peonies.

Ms. Rene had that garden blooming all summer long, and for me - a girl who’d lived in hotels or dorm rooms most of her life - it was like living in a story book.

I knew Liam would take one look at the bars on the windows and remember the way my dad and I used to live - the cars and the parties and the fancy dinners – and he’d make a joke about how far I’d fallen.

I’d never tell him the truth, but after everything that had happened, I now realized this was the most honest I’d ever lived. Sometimes you had to have everything taken away from you before you knew who you were. Me, I aspired to the house with the nicest garden in the shittiest neighborhood with a landlady who treated me like family.

It was more than I deserved.

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