Page 22 of Ruthless Lullaby

I heave yet another sigh. The tears that have been streaming down my face for the last thirty minutes begin to slow, and the tightness in my chest starts to ease, just a little. It's a small victory, but I'll take it.

That’s it, Mindy.

When one door closes, another one opens.

Maybe there is an opportunity on the other side of this.

Just focus on that.

With a newfound sense of clarity, I push aside the shit that's been haunting me these last few days - the nudes, Maurice’s betrayal, Mom's cancer, my sister’s accusations, andnow, being fired from my job - and I turn my attention to the one thing that matters most: finding a way to make money and fast. Because right now, with my Mom's treatment hanging in the balance, I don't have the luxury of wallowing in my misery.

I turn on the ignition, pull out of the parking lot, and start driving. The city streets become a blur of lights as I drive past them, with faceless strangers filling the busy sidewalks. My mind is racing, desperately searching for a solution, a way out of the mess I've found myself in. And then, like a bolt of lightning, it hits me: New York High.

I can always go back to New York High, right?

The name brings back a flood of memories from a chapter of my life I thought I'd closed. New York High is the bar where I got my very first job as a singer, performing for the patrons a few nights a week. Sure, there were always a few guys that got a little rowdy after some drinks, but overall, it wasn't a bad gig. The money was decent, and it allowed me to hone my craft and finish my studies in accountancy.

But this was before the car accident that took Emily’s life. The thought of returning to that stage after everything I've been through doesn't sit well with me. I've been busting my ass to move on from it all, climbing the ladder in the corporate world, and shutting down my days as a bar singer.

Except now that the corporate world has turned its back on me, I can't afford to be picky. Whether I like it or not, New York High seems like my best bet to make a quick buck while I look for a new job.

It won't be easy, putting myself back out there in front of a crowd of strangers. There will undoubtedly be some men who will see me as nothing more than a pretty face with boobs, abutt, and a soothing voice. But I've dealt with that type before, and I’ve learned how to handle myself. If a few leering looks and drunken catcalls are the price I have to pay to keep a roof over my head and pay for Mom’s treatment, so be it.

Not to mention that the process of applying for corporate jobs can take an eternity – sending my resumé to places, filling out applications, going to interviews, and then waiting to hear back from potential employers. It all takes time.

Plus, I'm pretty sure Maron Korolev won’t provide a positive letter of recommendation for me. He would likely write something along the lines of:"Miss Williams has exceptional skills in accounting. However, she does have the odd tendency to send nude photos and amateur porn videos of herself to her CEO, and other prominent figures within the company."

New York High may not be my dream job, but it could be a way to make ends meet while I figure out my next move. And right now, that's all that matters.

As I drive towards the familiar neon sign, I try to focus on the positives. Kevin, the owner is a decent guy, and we always got along well. I'm hoping he'll be happy to have me return.

Fifteen minutes later, I park my car in the parking lot of the building. As I step inside the familiar, dimly lit bar, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke fills my senses, bringing back memories of late nights spent crooning into the microphone.

It's way too early now, so the bar is practically empty, but I'm lucky enough to see Kevin behind the counter. When he notices me, his face brightens up. "Well, well, look who it is! Mindy!" He comes out from behind the counter and gives me abear hug. "Good to see you, girl! You still belting out those killer tunes, or have you gone all corporate on us now?"

I chuckle at his teasing tone. "Looks like I couldn’t stay away any longer, Kevin.”

He nods knowingly, pouring me a drink. "That’s a delight to hear. You know, we never really found a voice like yours since."

"Oh, really?" I ask, I say, trying to contain my elation.

"Yes, ma’am. The audience always loved you. Even after you left, they kept asking about you."

"Thank you, Kevin, that’s the confidence boost I need this morning," I smile and clear my throat. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about taking on some gigs."

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? You thinking about making a big comeback?"

I take a deep breath, realizing this is my chance. "I don’t know about‘big comeback’, but I’d love to do some gigs again."

It's out.

Kevin's eyes open wide. "You serious, girl?"

I nod. "Yep. I know it's been a while, Kevin. But I'd be happy to be back."

He looks at me, surprised. "The corporate world didn't treat you well?"

I don't even know what answer I should give to this, so I just say, "It did for a while. Until it didn't."

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