“I don’t want your money; I want you to give me a job.”
I flipped the suitcase shut, stood up, and walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. We’d had this conversation countless times before. I was desperate to get a job at Main Squeeze. But Keller kept suggesting he should just give me money until I got back on my feet again. I couldn’t accept his offer. I didn’t want to be indebted to him—to anyone—and I didn’t know when my financial situation would improve.
Keller followed me to his kitchen. He had a one-bedroom apartment in West Hollywood. It was tiny, but impeccably designed. Gray upholstered sectionals and recliners made out of fine leather, Persian-style tufted rugs, faux fur throws, and abstract paintings he’d gotten for dirt cheap in Downtown L.A. on the Art Walk.
I filled myself a glass of tap water before turning around and leaning against his all-white kitchen counter.
“Honey, you know I would. In a heartbeat.” Keller squeezed my arms, his face full of remorse.
“What’s stopping you, then?” I demanded. “Why wouldn’t you give me a chance?”
“Well, it’s not a game, working for Main Squeeze.” He pretzeled uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll have to wake up early for shifts, cut all the fruit and veggies at five in the morning…deal withimpossiblecustomers.”
“And you don’t trust me to do a good job?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling my eyelid twitch in annoyance.
He squirmed. “You’ve never held a job in your life, Hal.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“True.” He sighed, looking tortured. “But Main Squeeze is a really huge deal to me. It’s my bread and butter, and I cannot afford any hiccups. I don’t think you understand.” He closed his mouth, shaking his head. “Honey, I reallydon’ttake a dime from my father. If this goes to hell, I won’t be able to pay my mortgage on this place. I won’t be able to pay the lease on my car. I don’t have a plan B.Ora plan C. It’s all I have. This small juicery. My dad is a deadbeat rock star who is in love with himself, his cocaine, and whatever girl is currently sucking his dick—not sure who it is this month, but she’s bound to be younger than me. I don’t have anything to fall back on. Mommy and Daddy Thorne won’t bail me out. And I love you!” he exclaimed passionately. “But…”
“But you can’t count on me,” I finished softly.
I got it. I truly did. Keller knew me before I’d made the change. Before I realized life wasn’t a rollercoaster of designer bags and mistakes. He knew me as the girl with the driver, with the credit cards, with the house that didn’t match her nonexistent salary. He loved me for who I was. A hang-out buddy. A girl who was quick-witted and always fun to be around. But he wouldn’t necessarily trust me with his livelihood.
And…I couldn’t fault him for it.
I’d given him no reason whatsoever to believe I understood and could participate in the real world. So far.
Nodding weakly, I turned around and rinsed the glass I’d used, putting it on the dish rack. “I gotta go.”
“Oh, honey, don’t be like that! I don’t have anything until two o’clock. We can binge-watchSelling Sunsetand eat those organic coconut-date thingies from Whole Foods that look healthy but are actually hella calorie-dense.”
Giving him a tight smile, I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him into a squeeze.
“You’re fine, Keller. I’m not mad. You’re letting me stay here rent-free until I figure my shit out. You owe me nothing. Please don’t feel like you do.”
He pulled away from me, his whole body jerking. “Who are you and what did you do with my petty, albeit adorable, friend?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I grew up.”
His face eased. “Yeah. I’m starting to suspect maybe you have.”
Armed with my JanSport backpack (admittedly, it was so much more practical than any designer bag I owned), I made my way to Dennis’ first. This past month, I’d made it a point to visit him and his wife once a week. Sometimes I brought snacks and coffee. But this last time, I was short on cash. Maybe after I managed to sell my old designer items to consignment stores.
Ethel opened the door for me, all smiles. “If it isn’t my favorite girl!”
After weeding out their garden and staying for a cup of coffee (“Doing something for others will make your soul feel good,” Ilona told me), I bid them farewell.
“Where are you headed?” Dennis asked.
“Sunset Boulevard.”
“That’s miles away!” he thundered dramatically. “Let me drive you.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No chance in hell.”
“And what about on earth?” he sassed. God, I loved his dad jokes. I was so glad to have him back in my life, even if not as my driver.