Page 11 of Just So You Know, I Don't Work Friday

“Well, I’m glad you have options, Brittany.”

“What about you? Going to move home with Mom and Dad?”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I would kill myself before I had to live with my mom and dad again.” I knew that sounded rather dramatic, and I was trying not to be as dramatic as my mom, but there was no way I could be in their house. I was twenty-two years old. I was a grad student. I was too old to move back with Mommy and Daddy. I’d figure something out.

I looked down at the newspaper and all the apartments listed for rent. “Since when did everything get so expensive?”

“Since Port Sunshine became a happening town,” she said. “Everyone wants to live here now.”

“I don’t understand why,” I said. “It’s not that happening.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got pristine beaches and turquoise seas, and just twenty minutes away, we have all the ranches and the stables. You know everyone wants to be in Port Sunshine. We’re a fun escape from reality. We are a—”

“Okay, Brittany,” I said. Brittany could be a walking advertisement for Port Sunshine. She absolutely loved it, and I didn’t blame her. She got to enjoy the perks of living in Port Sunshine. She went to the beach every weekend, she rode horses every Saturday morning and Wednesdays, and she didn’t have a worry in the world. I wasn’t sure if it was because her parents were rich and she always had them to fall back on or because she was just beautiful and men treated her like a princess, but Britney lived life as if she was in a bubble.

Sometimes I was resentful that she seemed to have no worries, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live life as an airhead. As an artist, I saw the bleak and the hopeful in life. Just right now, I was stuck in bleak times.

“Well, anyway, I just wanted to say that Travis said we have to be out of here by the end of the week. The property sold and the new owners want to take possession right away.”

“A week? But that’s not enough time for me to find a place or raise enough money to pay for a deposit and a down payment.” I was sputtering now. “That’s just not right.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “We weren’t on the lease.”

“Yeah, but Travis knows that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, but Travis has already left.”

“What do you mean, he’s already left?”

“He moved to New York. He’s finally going to try to make it as musician.” My jaw dropped.

“But he didn’t even tell me.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She bit down into her sandwich again and crunched on the pickle inside. I felt like I was going to throw up, and not just because she was eating a pickle sandwich.

“Okay, well, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good luck, Harriet,” she said, beaming at me. “Oh, I do have one idea for you.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Well, if you’re in desperate need of money—”

“I kind of am, yeah.”

“Well, I know a place where you could make a couple of grand, if you really want to.”

“Where’s that?” I asked her, knowing I was an idiot, even thinking she would have a reasonable idea.

“Well, you know Gators the bar?” she asked me, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Well, they have a wet T-shirt competition on Friday nights, and I heard if you strip naked and give one of the judges a lap dance and get him hard enough, you’re guaranteed to win, and first prize is fifteen hundred dollars.”

“Seriously, Brittany?” I said, my voice raising as she stared at me with a blank expression.

“Yeah. Cool, right? Fifteen hundred dollars.”

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