All my friends are away at college living their best lives, my boyfriend is in California, trying to make long-distance work, and I’m adrift and stagnant. But even if I won’t admit it to myself, a little voice inside me whispers that our relationship too, is doomed. Little mocking voice—the curse’s voice.
You still don’t think I’m cursed?
Let me drive the point home, then. The night my parents revealed their most-guarded family secret, they both went and died on me. At least I learned the truth before they were gone. I turned eighteen that week.
And even with all that information, Sofia does not believe me when I say I’m cursed, as if I weren’t an expert in the matter.
“You’re not cursed, Lo,” she says gently into the phone as she reads my thoughts.
I roll my eyes. “I know. It’s all in my head,” I say to appease her, then I try to change the subject. “What’s up?”
“Do you have a job tomorrow?” she asks.
“I do, but not one I like. I’d be willing to move things around for the right offer.”
There’s a sigh on the other end. “I actually want you to turn it down, but I promised I’d ask.”
“Okay,” I say, confused by her shady behavior.
“It’s a mansion,” she says, and I perk up with interest. “Big money. Cash. No questions.”
“I’m in,” I say immediately.
“No, Lo. Wait. I’m not done. They’ve had parties . . . it’s . . . I don’t know how to say it any better than it’s a war zone, Lo. I almost cried when I saw the disgusting mess, andIdon’t have to clean it.”
“I’ll do it if it pays to match the mess.”
“You won’t hate me when you see it?” she asks, but I know she’s just being silly to cheer me up like she always does.
Ever since she held my hand at the funeral, Sofia adopted me into her family. That’s what she does. Her heart is so open and big, when she loves someone, her loyalty knows no bounds. She’s taken a big sister role, as has my roommate, Ileana. And theyarebig sisters to me now—just as bossy, annoying, and, most of all, supportive.
Sofia has offered to give me money to help me build a new life, but my pride won’t let me take it. I have to work for it. So, she’s found a work-around by finding me odd jobs, and then fighting me on the ridiculous rates she sets for the random jobs. It’s usually cleaning her bar, or her penthouse apartment. Sometimes it’s babysitting my niece, Addy. Then we fight when I return half the bills, and she sneaks them into my coat pocket. And on and on it goes.
I laugh. “I won’t hate you. How much does it pay?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“How long do you think it would take me?”
“I don’t know,” Sofia says.
I blow out a breath. “You are not helpful, So.” It’s she who laughs then. “Let’s do it this way then, by the hour. I’ll work for eight hours, whatever I can get done in that time.”
“That sounds fair.”
“Tell the client I’ll charge twenty bucks an hour.”
“Absolutely not,” she says with determination.
“Too high?”
“Too low! Lola, come on. It’s a health hazard.”
Geesh, how bad can this place be? Surely she’s exaggerating. “Okay, what do you suggest?” I ask.
“I’ll tell him a grand, cash. Due to you when you’re done. And he’s good for it. I’ll vouch.”
My eyes widen with surprise. “A grand?”