Page 19 of I'll Keep Her Safe

My life could not getany worse.

Well, that’s not true. I could be back with Kurt.

But this is pretty bad.

When I arrived at work today, my boss looked at me blankly and asked me why I was there. I told him I was covering the morning shift, like I always do, and he told me that management had cut all morning shifts and these were now covered by those who work the day shift. Given I don’thaveany day shifts, that means I’m effectively out of a job. He promised he would call me for casual shifts if they came up, but that’s hardly a reliable source of income. It was bad enough having my shifts cut to only the mornings, but now I’m well and truly screwed.

The only upside is I’m free to look at more apartments, which I did before realizing the downside—that I can’t afford to liveanywherewithout a job.

It’s a little after midday by the time I get the subway home. Well,homecertainly isn’t the right word. Nowhere feels like home right now. The closest I got was Dean and Bailey’s apartment, but even that wasn’t forever. And now I have to go back to grumpy Mr. Mathers, though at least he’ll be at work for the rest of the day. My only solace is the thought of climbing into bed with a tub of ice cream, but I quickly shake the thought from my head.

I refuse to let this defeat me.

No. I’ll go to the places I dropped my résumé last week and see if anything has opened up. Best to be proactive. What I’dliketo do is work on the business Bailey and I are about to launch, but last time we spoke she didn’t even mention it. I know she’s busy settling into her new job, but part of me gets the feeling she isn’t that interested in the business anymore. I can’t blame her. With a hot new job, why on earth would she want to waste her time on this little venture we’d planned together?

But without that… I don’t know what I’ll do. I certainly don’t want to be working in coffee shops for the rest of my life, that’s for sure. I guess I could look for a job in marketing, but the thought is so intimidating. With my GPA, I’d be lucky to get an unpaid internship. Besides, I was excited about the idea of starting our own digital marketing business.

It’s not the same without Bailey, though.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts as I trudge along Fruit Street, I almost step in front of a passing car. The only thing that stops me is a brunette reaching for my arm at the last minute, holding me back.

“Thank you,” I breathe, my hands shaking as we finally make it to the other side of the street.

“You’re welcome,” she says, assessing me, her nose creased in concern. She looks to be around my age, with a beautiful smattering of freckles across her alabaster skin. “Are you okay?”

I press a hand to my chest, over my galloping heart. “I… I think so.”

The woman shakes her head, motioning behind her. “I work here. Come inside and sit down. Have a glass of water.”

I’m too dazed to do anything other than follow her inside. It’s not until I’m seated at a table near the window that I recognize where I am. Joe’s Coffee.

The woman appears in front of me a moment later, holding out a glass of water. She’s wearing an apron now—but definitelynopolyester uniform—and she lowers herself into the chair opposite me.

I take the glass and gulp it down. My pulse finally settles, and I inhale a deep breath. “Thanks. You saved my ass.” I give her a wobbly smile. “I’m Poppy.”

“Poppy! I’m named after a flower too.” She laughs, motioning to a nametag I hadn’t noticed. It readsDaisy. “You’ll have to meet my friend Violet as well.”

Setting the glass down, I chuckle.

“Actually…” Daisy’s expression shifts, and she taps a finger on her lip. “Are you the same Poppy who left her résumé here last week?” She motions to a stack of papers on the back counter, and I nod.

“That was me.”

Daisy’s face breaks into a grin. “I was going to call you later today to let you know you’ve got the job. We lost one of our baristas two days ago, and my boss, Dave, was really impressed with you.”

Well. Shit.

Relief bubbles in my chest, but I quickly temper it. What’s the point in working here if I’m leaving Mr. Mathers’s house? I certainly can’t afford to live in this neighborhood on my own.

But you also can’t afford toleaveMr. Mathers’s house without a job, a little voice reminds me.

Besides, I’d love to work somewhere like this. It’s nothing like the coffee shop I’ve just left, which is a complete dive, with coffee ring stains on the tables and ripped vinyl booths. No, this is one of those cute, upscale neighborhood joints, with large bay windows, exposed wooden floors, white-painted brick walls, and pressed tin on the ceiling. I have to admit, it would be lovely to work in such a sweet, cozy setting, and all thatwithouta humiliating uniform.

I’ll have to commute from wherever I end up living. It will be worth it to work here.

“What are the hours?”Please be full-time, I beg silently.

“Full-time. They’ll rotate between weekdays and weekends, but you’ll always get at least forty hours a week.” Daisy leans across the table, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, the pay is good compared to other places. And even though Dave can be a lot, he’s a good guy.”

---