Page 19 of Daddy's Rules

By the time the ice cream and Bailey’s is gone, I’m more than just warm and fuzzy inside—I’m flat-out drunk. And it lowers my inhibitions enough to email Kari-Anne, text Denzi, and call ‘Mr. Smith’ three times each before I flop over onto my sofa cushions and fall asleep.

When I wake, hours later, I load up on Tylenol to dull the pounding in my head and say a thankful prayer that I hung up every time I called Owen. Denzi and Kari-Anne are another story—one I’m ignoring for now.

I remind myself that no matter what happens that’s outside my control, I’m trying to become a responsible person, which means facing the yellow envelope.

After reading everything in the envelope, I’m emotional again. The letter says I have thirty days to vacate or start the appeal process, but I don’t know if I have any fight left in me. I have been fighting my whole life. Through the tears slipping down my cheeks, I start to tidy my place. I think of calling my best friend, Riley, but know she can’t help me. Her tiny apartment barely has room for her and her husband, let alone their three rescue dogs. There’s only one person who can help, but with everything that’s happened between us, how can I call him?

I shower, letting the hot water soothe me. My condo is worth a good chunk of cash so once I sell I’ll be able to afford another, but the market isn’t so hot right now. It could take months. Poor little spoiled Jordan—can’t take care of herself without Daddy’s millions. I sit on the shower floor, curl my knees to my chest, and let the hot water pelt me.

Once I’m out and drying my hair I have more determination. I don’t deserve to be kicked out, but then again do I want to live in a place where I’m not wanted? Knowing a walk will do me good, I throw my hair in a ponytail, look at my makeup bag, then in the mirror and groan.

Once I’ve applied makeup and made my ponytail look intentional rather than convenient, I grab a jacket.

It’s early evening and the breeze is still strong, but it’s warm, almost comforting. I walk along the streets, chewing over my thoughts. Owen would help me fight the board, but I don’t want to run to him with this too. He’s a damn good lawyer though, so good, his name is usually enough to intimidate people. I smile imagining Mr. Curtis gulping for air as I tell him Owen Holloway is my lawyer.

Confident with my new plan, I stop at the local shelter where I volunteer. I walk the dogs a few times a week and do whatever else I can. Today isn’t my normal day and it’s closed but I see Riley through the window so I stop in. She manages the shelter.

There’s a bunch of new kittens and they’re too fluffy to resist even if I’m more of a dog person.

“Why don’t you adopt one?” Riley asks as she watches me on the floor with the balls of fluff climbing all over me.

“Then I wouldn’t have any reason to help out here.” A little white kitten mewls and climbs up my shirt to curl into my neck and I melt.

“You wouldn’t stay away even if you had a menagerie, Jordan.” Her laugh is like a tinkling wind chime, just one of the many things I love about her.

“You’re probably right,” I say with a sigh. “But I’m about to be homeless.”

“What?” She storms over and plops herself on the floor beside me. I look at her freckled nose scrunched up in anger and smirk. If Owen’s name doesn’t work, I can sick the redheaded Riley on Mr. Curtis. Although the pixie cut undermines her ferociousness slightly.

“It’s okay. My condo board just decided they want me out, that’s all.”

“Who could ever want you out?” She narrows her sharp green eyes. “Does this have something to do with Denzi? Was she pissed about the inheritance?”

“Um, hell yeah, she was,” I say, chuckling darkly. “Could be her, I guess, but I saw Kari-Anne talking to the head of the board so she’s more likely the culprit.”

“I’ve never understood why she has it in for you. You’re the nicest person I’ve met in this place.” She says place like Hollywood is a festering garbage dump. I mostly agree with that notion.

Riley came to Hollywood to make it as an actor like most people here, but she couldn’t handle the claws that came out during auditions. And instead of heading back home to Canada, she fell in love with a stuntman, married him, and made a life here.

My eyes settle on the room where we keep the food. “Didn’t we get a shipment of food today?” I ask, noting the near empty stores.

“Nope. Not enough donations this month. I’m gonna be campaigning all weekend.” She scoops a kitten up and brings it to her face. “These little guys were among many unexpected guests this week too.”

“Hang on.” I jump up and grab my purse, pulling my checkbook out. “How much?” My mind flashes on Owen and how mad he’ll be, but I shelf the mental picture. This is an emergency.

“You just told me you’re going to be homeless and you’re pulling out your checkbook?” She shakes her head. “Why doesn’t Kari-Anne print this stuff about you?”

“Quit stalling. How much?”

I feel better once I leave the shelter. Both the kitten cuddling and the donation make me feel strong, competent, and deserving of my condo. No one is going to shove me out of my own home. Not without a fight anyway. I stop for a bite to eat at a little mom and pop’s place that have really good burgers and fresh-cut fries. I watch couples walking by hand in hand and think of Owen. I miss him. I also know I owe him an explanation for why I ran.

On my walk home I try to plan out what I’ll say to him when I call but when I get to my door it’s ajar. I take in a breath, trying to convince myself that I must have left it open and shove the door with the toe of my tennis shoe.

It’s late and my place is dark with only a little glow from the streetlamp outside. I flick the switch by the door and I gasp as my apartment is bathed in light.

It’s in ruins.

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