Play(2)

By: Kylie Scott



Ironic really.

What were the chances of her feeling any remorse for screwing me over? Not likely.

I finished retrieving the contents of my handbag and zipped it up tight. “Ah, yeah, Lauren, the coat’s in my closet. At least I hope it is. Help yourself.”

Rent was due in eight days. Maybe I could work a miracle. There were sure to be some cash savvy twenty-three year olds with savings in the bank out there. At least one of them must need a place to stay? I’d been doing fine before this. But there’d always been something my sister or I needed more than future financial stability. Books, clothes, a night on the town, all those little treats that made living worthwhile. We’d sacrificed enough already. Yet here I was, broke and on my knees.

Guess I should have prioritized better. Hindsight sucked.

Worst case scenario, I could probably get away with sleeping on the floor of Lizzy’s dorm room if we were super sly. God knows our mom didn’t have the cash. Asking her for help was out. If I sold my great-aunt’s pearls it might help toward the deposit on another apartment, a smaller one that I could afford on my own.

I’d fix this somehow. Of course, I would. Fixing shit was my specialty.

And if I ever saw Skye again I was going to fucking kill her.

“What’ll you do?” asked Nate, lounging against the door frame.

I rose to my feet, dusting off the knees of my black pants. “I’ll work something out.”

Nate gave me a look and I returned it as calmly as I could. The next thing to come out of his mouth had better not be pity. My day had been crappy enough. With great determination, I gave him a smile. “So, where are you guys off to?”

“Party at David and Ev’s,” Lauren answered from inside my room. “You should come with us.”

Ev, Nate’s sister and Lauren’s former roomie, had married David Ferris, premier rock god and lead guitarist for the band Stage Dive, a few months ago. Long story. I was still trying to get my head around it, frankly. One minute, she’d been the nice blonde girl next door who went to the same college as Lizzy and made killer coffee at Ruby’s Café. The next, our apartment block had been surrounded by paparazzi. Skye had given interviews on the front step—not that she’d known anything. I’d snuck out the back.

Mostly, my relationship with Ev had involved saying hi when we’d passed on the stairs, back when she used to live here, and with me hitting Ruby’s Café every morning for a big-ass coffee on my way to work. We’d always been friendly. But I wouldn’t say we were friends exactly. Given Lauren’s penchant for borrowing my clothes, I knew her much better.

“She should come, right, Nate?”

Nate grunted his affirmation. Either that or his disinterest. With him it was kind of hard to tell.

“That’s okay,” I demurred. Debris lined the walls where the couch and cabinet had stood; all of the collected crap Skye had left behind. “I had a new book to read, but I should probably get busy cleaning. Guess we hadn’t dusted under the furniture for a while. At least I won’t have much to move when the time comes.”

“Come with us.”

“Lauren, I wasn’t invited,” I said.

“Neither are we half the time,” said Nate.

“They love us! Of course they want us there.” Lauren reemerged from my room and gave her boyfriend the stink eye. She looked better in the black vintage jacket than I ever would, a fact that I chose not to secretly hate her for. If that didn’t earn me points into heaven then nothing would. Maybe I’d give it to her as a good-bye present before I left.

“Come on, Anne,” she said. “Ev won’t mind.”

“Good to go?” Nate jiggled his car keys impatiently.

Hanging with rock stars didn’t seem the appropriate response to learning you’d soon be out on the street. Maybe one day when I was at my sparkling, buffed-up best I could strut on by and say hi. That day was not today. Mostly I felt tired, defeated. Given I’d been feeling that way since I turned sixteen, it wasn’t the strongest of excuses. Lauren didn’t need to know that, however.

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