Page 13 of Lucky Strike

My phone rings again, this time with Taya’s number. I pick up. “Hey, Tay.”

“Hey, honey!” she says. “Finally had a minute, so I—wait, hold on.” She says something to someone else, her voice muffled.

She’s a busy kindergarten teacher with a million hobbies and I’m usually watching over a brood of children, but we check in with each other as much as we can. Hearing my big sister’s voice is like putting on a cozy, old sweatshirt and I settle back, sipping my coffee. “What’s good? You doing okay?”

“Yeah, listen, I can’t talk long ‘cause I’m on my lunch break,” she says. “Have you found a job yet?”

I haven’t told Taya about the latest fiasco with Lucky akaMr.Conlan Kelly, but she knows that the job I came to Boston for fell through. “Nope.”

“Okay, remember Alejo Gomez?” she asks. “He’s opening another restaurant in Riverdale, and they need servers. I told him there was a possibility you’d be coming home, so he said to hit him up if you do. I’ll text you his number.”

I drum my fingers on the table, glancing at my sticky notes. “I appreciate that. I’ll keep Alejo in mind.”

“Always good to have options, right?”

“Right. Hey, how’s Grammy doing? You saw her the other day, right?” Taya lives and works about fifteen minutes from our old neighborhood.

“She was great, baking cookies, talking about the latest drama with her book club ladies.”

“Really?” Warmth washes over me. “That makes me happy.”

“Ma says she has good days and bad ones—guess that was a good one.” Taya sighs. “I wish we could just keep her at home, but Ma needs a break.”

“I know. She just gives and gives.”

“These assisted care communities and nursing homes are a damn racket, though! We haven’t been able to find anything decent that fits the budget.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ma said,” I lament. Taya chips in just like I do, but it’s still not enough.

Promising to FaceTime over the weekend, she rushes off to deal with her kids, who are coming in from PE. I dump the rest of my coffee in the sink and rinse the cup, conflicted. About Grammy, about whether or not I should throw in the towel and move back home. Should I just take care of Grammy myself, until we can figure something else out? Work part-time for Alejo Gomez?

As grateful as I am to have Taya and old friends looking out for me, offering employment and soft places to land, the thought of giving up and going home already makes my stomach hurt.

I pull up my bank account and compare the balance to the spreadsheet I use to keep track of my expenses. If I can secure a job by the end of the week, I’ll be able to get through this month before things get dire. The short-term rental I’m staying in lasts for as long as I need it to, but it’s not cheap, and I’d rather something more permanent, whether that’s a place of my own or as a live-in nanny. My phone rings again, and Ianswer it absently, doing mental math as I scan the spreadsheet. “Hello?”

“Bria! Thank God,” Maeve says breathlessly. Classical music plays faintly in the background. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

“I was, kind of,” I admit, leaning away from my laptop.

“Oh,” she says, her voice small. “God, I’m so sorry about yesterday. Nola called me right away, and then I got an earful from Lucky?—”

“What did you expect, Maeve?” I ask, exasperated. “You should’ve told me the family you were talking about wasyours! And you definitely should’ve told your brother that you were sending me over there. Do you know how stupid I felt when he showed up and told Nola not to hire me?”

“No, I know,” she says. “You’re right. I should’ve told you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t give him a chance, and there’s no one better for this job than you!” she cries. “You’d love Liam, and he’d love you. I know it. Lucky?—”

“Lucky’s the one not giving chances, Maeve. He didn’t want me there, so it doesn’t matter how great Liam and I would get along,” I say, getting up and pacing the small kitchen.

“Let me talk to him.”

“Don’t bother. After the way he acted yesterday, I don’t want to be there, either.”

“What are you doing right now?” she asks after a moment. There’s a flurry of activity and voices in the background, and then it goes quiet, like she’s entered another room.

“Job hunting.”

---