Which means that I inherited the house, and pretty much nothing else. But if I don't come up with thirty-one thousand and change in the next two weeks to pay off a short-term equity loan, the bank's going to foreclose and I'm going to lose that last connection to my family.
And I have no freaking idea how I can get that much money.
"I'm so screwed," I whisper to Joy, feeling fragile and lost and alone. I'm only twenty-three. I should have finished college instead of dropping out so that I could work to buy food and pay taxes and fix the house. Hell, I should be applying to grad schools.
I should be bringing my laundry home and begging my mom to do it for me while I harass my little brother. I should be going out to bars with friends at night, not actually serving the drinks.
I shouldn't have the weight of the world on my shoulders.
But I do. And I've accepted that. I'm dealing--I am. But any more pressure and I swear I'll shatter into a million pieces.
"I can't lose the house." My voice cracks, and I hate that my weakness is showing, even to my best friend. "I can't. But they're gonna take it anyway."
"The hell they are." She taps my notebook authoritatively. She's only three years older than me, but Joy is the maternal type. Originally, I'd thought she was the bossy type, but she'd assured me that I was wrong. "Leave this depressing pile of shit and come with me."
"Where?"
"You need a drink."
"I can't afford a drink."
"Ha ha. I'm buying. Come on. Let's go."
"Joy ... you're supposed to be working."
"So? You need me."
I hear the back door snick open, and realize that Cass--the owner of the shop and one of the best tattoo artists I've ever met--must be back.
"I don't have any more appointments," Joy continues. "My instruments area all sterilized. My area is clean. And my boss," she adds in a much louder voice, "is not a raging bitch."
"I heard that!" Cass calls. "And you're wrong. I'm a stone cold bitch, and you know it."
Joy snorts, then calls out to Class. "You had a walk-in a few minutes ago. I told him you were gone for the day, but would be in by ten tomorrow. And I can stay if you really, really want me to, but poor Laine is having a shitty day, and she really needs a drink."
"Joy! Don't you dare blame me for cutting out early."
"It's Friday," Joy says. "I'll take whatever excuse I can get."
"Careful, or I wi
ll turn into a raging bitch." Cass rounds the corner, coming toward us. She's wearing black leather slacks and a silver tank top that shows off the plumage of the amazing bird tattoo that starts at her shoulder blade and trails down her arm. Today, her hair is coal-black with red at the tips, so she almost looks like she's on fire. A tiny diamond stud decorates her nose--the piercing courtesy of my bestie, Joy.
She's stunningly beautiful and always outrageous, and she's one of my favorite people. Now, she aims a wide smile at me. "Hey, Laine, how are you?"
"Fine," I say, lying.
"Broke," Joy says.
I sigh. "An open book," I tell Cass as I glare at Joy. "Apparently, I'm an open book."
Joy holds up her hands. "Hey, I can't lie to my boss. Who looks amazing, by the way. You went home and changed. Big plans tonight?"
"Siobhan and I are having dinner with a few of the folks from her job," Cass says, referring to her girlfriend. "Tomorrow is opening night for her first big exhibit since she started working at the Stark Center. So she's nervous. I'm the designated hand-holder."
"Me, too," Joy says, looking meaningfully at me.
"I'm not nervous," I tell her. "I'm freaking out. There's a difference."