The man I’ll meet tonight.
Around me, life is moving at lightning speed.
Traffic is moving then grinding to a stop every few seconds.
Horns are blaring every thirty-six seconds.
Down the street there’s a child crying.
Across the street is a hawker promoting a club from the top of his lungs.
All of this—and the text messages—becomes part of my excitement.
I’m not in Westbrook Blues anymore. A town where the wealthy collided with secrets and danger.
A place where only small, tightly knit groups interwoven by loyalty and blood thrived.
My little family is neither wealthy, nor have we ever really fit in.
We’re just the help.
The third choice.
The ones to pity and give a pat on the back.
But here, I’m just a tiny dot and it’s here that I will finally get my life into perspective.
“Hey you!”
I shake my head and come back to reality. Looking up, I see the older, grumpy lady glaring at me. I recognize her voice instantly…from the many phone calls we’ve had over the past month or so.
“You must be Mrs. Derrington!” I say, stepping forward to meet her.
“No, I’m not,” she says, her face scrunching up even more, which pronounces her wrinkles and the laugh lines around her sharp eyes filled with annoyance. “Mrs. Derrington was my fucking mother-in-law. She’s dead now, thank God.”
I don’t know if I should laugh so I just nod.
“I’m Ivy?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” she trails off, giving me a long, intense once-over.
I start feeling uncomfortable, but then her sharp eyes track back to my face.
“Are you an addict?” she demands.
“I’m sorry, what?—”
“You must be an addict, a porn star or a criminal. Which is it?”
I’m so shocked that I become tongue-tied.
“Excuse me?” I stutter. “I’m not so sure what you’re asking.”
She rolls her eyes so perfectly, it would give Kimmy a run for her money.
“Why do you want to live here, is my question,” she says in an exasperated tone. “Only three kinds of people live in this building and you, bless your heart and the naivety I see in your eyes, you don’t look like the type to jaywalk, let alone spread your legs on camera, snort a line or pull a heist. So again, why do you want to live here?”
Did she just call me a rule follower? If only she knew that I’m a liar, and in a way, a deceitful person.