Page 3 of Off Limits

“I should get to it,” I said, hooking my thumb in the direction of the stock room.

“Don’t forget to take your break when Zander and Luka clock in,” Jesse reminded me.

“I will,” I promised, grabbing my water bottle from my worktable. I sometimes skipped my afternoon break if it was close to the end of my shift or I was in the middle of something. I didn’t like being interrupted when I had a good flow going, and working through a fifteen-minute break wasn’t a big deal since we got paid for the time anyway.

Leaving my friends to figure out their break schedule, I made my way toward the inventory closet so I could get lost in counting and checking the new shipment against the manifest.

I was exhausted by the time I stood in front of my apartment, my keys in hand so I could unlock the door.

The rest of my shift had been as uneventful as the first half, but even with the inventory break, I was mentally drained from trying to stop myself from thinking about Dex or tomorrow or anything to do with my family.

There was no way I could skip the party. Ruby might only be turning three, but she’d notice if I wasn’t there. The last thing I wanted was to upset her, and definitely not on her birthday. Plus, Chloe and Tanner, my half sister and half brother, would definitely notice if I was absent, especially since Chloe asked if I could bring some of my nail polish and do her nails like mine.

My mother and stepfather would definitely notice if I bailed, and I really didn’t want to deal with any more of their lectures or passive-aggressive bullshit.

I could handle a few hours of hanging out with my siblings and the other kids in attendance while everyone else rolled out the red carpet for Dex and treated him like the god they all thought he was. It’s not like this wasn’t the same song and dance I’d been doing since Chloe was born.

I was so distracted by my thoughts I didn’t notice the folded piece of paper that was taped to my door.

“The fuck?” I muttered, pulling the letter or whatever it was off my door.

I looked around to see if any of the other apartments in my line of sight had a similar letters. Three of the apartments at the end of the hall had one, and so did my immediate neighbor to the left.

At least I wasn’t the only one.

Once I was inside my apartment, I dropped my backpack to the floor and kicked off my sneakers so I could trudge into the tiny space.

I lived on the ground floor of a small apartment building on the outskirts of a nice part of town. My entire apartment consisted of a single room that held a beat-up futon I used as abed, an old recliner, and a dresser that was piled high with books since I didn’t have room for a bookshelf.

There was a barebones kitchen built into one wall that consisted of a single sink, a fridge that was older than me, a stove with one working burner, and maybe three-square feet of counter space under a set of cabinets with no doors. The bathroom had a door, but it was only big enough for a stand-up shower, a toilet, and a pedestal sink. That was it. I didn’t even have a closet in the space or a storage locker in the parking area like most other apartments.

I’d lived here for just over a year now, and I hated it. My apartment didn’t have a patio door or an exit to the outside, and my only source of natural light was a tiny window on the far wall that had been painted shut multiple times over the years.

It was glaringly obvious that my apartment used to be an office or some other sort of utility room and had been hastily converted into a bachelor apartment to max out occupancy.

The unit and building had so many code violations it was laughable, but it was cheap, included a parking space, and it was in a central area that made it convenient to get around, so it would have to do until I could afford something better.

Pausing in the middle of my living room/bedroom, I opened the letter. It was from the company that managed the building, and my heart dropped to my feet as I read the short missive.

I was being evicted.

The letter said it was because the unit needed extensive renovations that couldn’t be done while it was inhabited, but I knew that was code for “get the fuck out so we can jack up the rent and make another sucker pay even more to live in this hellhole.”

What the fuck was I supposed to do? The letter said I had thirty days to vacate the unit, but it was dated a week ago. Didthat mean I had thirty days from today? Or was I already down to three weeks?

Panic and anger flowed through me, mixing and mingling until a strange sense of calm replaced them, leaving me numb and exhausted.

There was no way in hell I could find another place to live in three weeks. Even a full month wouldn’t be enough time. Rents were going up all over the city, and the competition for affordable places was insane. I’d had to submit not only an application and a ridiculous fee to secure this craphole but also a copy of my credit report, three months of pay stubs, and a letter from my employer on top of one about myself and what kind of tenant I was. And this wasn’t the only place demanding that kind of information. Most of the other units I’d applied for had also wanted character references and a photo before they’d even let you see the apartment.

My credit was decent, and I made good money at the garage, especially compared to what I’d be making at a big box shop. But my credit card was maxed out, and I was struggling to even make a dent in the balance with the interest rate being so high. I could stretch my rent budget by a hundred dollars or so, but that was still way under what most places were asking, even for shitty bachelor pads.

My vision went a bit snowy and a low hum filled my ears as the reality of the situation hit like an anvil to the face.

I was going to be homeless within the next thirty days unless I found a way to make extra money fast.

2

DEX

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