Page 25 of All In
The lack of viable employment in this town has left me considering whether it’s time to move on and start over in a new state. It’s hard to comprehend that I’m considering that as a life choice. Two years ago, my life plan took a detour I wasn’t expecting. I felt lost for so long after Maria. But after some time, itseemed like I was finally getting a grip on things again. Work was good, I was dating again, more or less, and I had a solid friend group. Then, out of nowhere, last week, I lost my job and saw Maria (and held her in my arms), all in one day.
And my head hasn’t been straight since.
The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, how she kept and still wears the watch I gave her. That sentiment alone almost made me want to carry her over my shoulder like a caveman and bring her back here to the apartment we were supposed to share.
What almost broke me was when I learned she came to my apartment to try to win me back. But of course, she picked the day I went out with Jennifer. I can’t believe Maria saw us on that porch, and what she witnessed was nothing. I pulled Jennifer into the apartment with no plan in place. At the moment, I thought it was what I wanted. Jennifer is amazing and gorgeous. But kissing her felt … wrong and off.
I wasn’t ready.
So, I sent her home. She understood and was really sweet about it.
But to think that Maria saw the whole thing and then to know the conclusions she had drawn, well, it makes me sick.
Then, to make the dance at Dexter’s more complicated, and like the idiot that I am, I almost kissed her. But reality came crashing back in the way of a preppy rich boyfriend named Nate. Who she left with. Not gonna lie … I’ve been back at Dexter’s every night since, hoping that she returns.
She hasn’t. It’s just been me, Big C, Ricky, and my friend Heineken.
The thought of that unexpected night at Dexter’s sends a pain of uneasiness straight to my gut. There’s this knowing feeling I have that Maria isn’t being honest with me. I’ve known her long enough. Something’s off. I just don’t know what.
I forcefully unbutton the top collar of my dress shirt, open the fridge, and grab a beer. Future beer gut? I’ll worry about that later. And yes, I understand that I’m drinking in the middle of the afternoon. Don’t judge.
Honestly, I need to get this beer problem under control.
As I sit down in my favorite chair and settle in, I realize I haven’t got the mail yet. A loud moan escapes my lips because I know the only thing waiting for me is bills. Bills I can’t pay. But I also can’t ignore them, so I sit my beer down, hoist myself up, grab the mailbox key, and head back downstairs to the main floor. I insert the key into the mailbox labeled 2B and open it.
Okay, so maybe it’s been a few days since I got the mail. A massive stack of long white envelopes and ads comes cascading out of my box and onto the dirty lobby floor.
“Son of a—” I mumble under my breath as I bend down to pick up the mess I made. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a pair of purple-painted toenails peeking out of black heels step on the envelope that was in my hand, preventing me from grabbing it.
“Hey Sam,” a female voice purrs.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse.It’s Cara. My neighbor, who lives right above me, has let me know frequently that I am welcome to visit her apartment anytime I want.
Not interested. Which she’s been told, on repeat, yet here she is.
Pinching my lips together, I glance up at her, careful not to look at her legs, which I know she will notice since her skirt is extremely short. I’ll admit, Cara is hot. I may not be interested, but I’m not blind. “Hey, Cara,” I mutter.
She stoops to help me pick up the mail mess on the floor, bending over so that her cleavage, which is hanging out of her crop top, is in my face. She’s desperately trying to make eye contact with me, which I purposely ignore. “I got it. Thanks.” We both stand as she whips her long, sleek black hair behind her shoulder and hands me the mail she picked up. She rests her other hand on my forearm.God, I can’t stand overtly forward women who can’t take a hint.
“So, do you have any plans for this afternoon? I’m free. If you would like to get lunch or a drink, maybe.” She takes a step closer and is batting her fake eyelashes at me. As if that will do the trick.
It won’t.
“Can’t, Cara. I’m busy,” I reply while turning to walk away and shifting through the pile of mail in my hand.
She follows me as I take the steps to my floor, her heels clanking on the concrete behind me. “Busy doing what? I heard you lost your job. Come on, Sam, it’s just a drink. As friends.”
Yeah, right.
I don’t answer her as I turn toward the hallway that leads to my apartment and walk to my door. Her cheap perfume is filling the air in the hall, which means she didn’t continue up the stairs to her place.Why can’t this woman take a hint?I intentionally ignore her, hoping the silent treatment will do the trick as I rifle through the pile in my hand.
Phone bill.
Electric bill.
Visa bill. (We sit that one aside for now.)
Cable bill. (Going to be canceling that soon.)
