Page 4 of IOU

Bostic nods, his jaw twitching as he glares at the third floor where his coworkers are probably filling out paperwork.

“I’m sorry you guys had to come out this late in the evening. I’m sure it’s dinner time at the station, huh?” I’ve watched911. I know the firemen have big meals and big screen TVs and twenty-four-hour shifts. The last thing they want to do on a Tuesday night is to break up a ridiculous catfight.

“It’s our job,” he gruffs out.

“I know, but you should be saving lives in like forest fires and such. Not putting out a small candle fire.” I downplay the flames just in case he’s reconsidering turning me over to the cops.

A low noise rumbles out of Bostic’s massive chest before he opens his mouth—probably to correct me on the size of the fire—but his crew descends the stairs and cuts him off.

I stand. “Thank you for the Skittles, and you know”—I wave to the third floor—“saving lives. There’s probably a few you saved from shooting straight to hell.” I grin. “I’m joking. Kind of.”

The big man stands and tilts his head down to look at me. “You have somewhere to stay tonight?”

Right. Because I’m homeless now.

I swallow and manage a smile. “Yeah. I have some friends I can call.” It’s a complete and utter lie, but I can tell Bostic is a fixer, and well, I did this to myself. No one made me go crazy and set my apartment on fire, even if it was warranted.

“Are you sure?”

I don’t want to lie to this man. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

One of the other firemen claps Bostic on the back. “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t move—only stares at me like he can somehow extract the truth with his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, big guy.” I encourage when his buddies start loading up.

He sighs. “I’m at Station 764 if you need anything.”

He really is a nice man. I check his hand for a ring. Bare. Good, my mom could use a good man in her life. We both could, but she’s been single longer, so she gets dibs.

“Thank you. I appreciate everything.” I mean it. Bostic could have made my night a lot worse, and he didn’t. He’s a rare find.

The big man frowns but tips his chin in resignation, and I reassure him, once again, with a smile. I can handle myself. Granted, I’ve never been homeless, but how hard could it be? I have a car. It’s not too hot out. And I have about ten hoodies in my backseat that will make the perfect pillow. Then, in the morning, I will find another roommate—easy-freaking-peasy. It’ll be like camping all those years ago with Mom.

I wave at the firetruck as it pulls out of the complex. Everything has returned to normal, at least here in the parking lot. I don’t know about inside the building because I’m banned.

Who needs an apartment anyway?

Or a roommate?

Certainly not me. I’d rather have my morals than to room with more liars.

Unzipping my purse, I dig out my car keys and head toward my parking space. The 2005 sedan that awaits me is dirty with a small ding in the bumper where I bumped into a gas station pole, but it’s mine, and it’s free of cheating scumbags and lying roommates, so I call that a win and home for possibly the rest of the semester.

I open the back door and get in, locking the doors behind me. Frank said he was kicking me out of my apartment. Not out of the parking lot. Surely, he won’t bother checking to see if I’ve vacated the premises. Frank’s lazy and considering he was already in his bathrobe, I imagine he’s two beers from beddy-bye-time.

My phone buzzes—it’s a text from my mom.

I hope you had a great day! Call me in the morning. Love you!

She thinks I’m still at work, and that’s okay. We’ll let her believe that. I don’t want to talk to her right now anyway. If I do, I’m sure I’ll cry at the sound of her voice. Through this whole disaster of a night, I’ve yet to let one single tear fall, and I typically cry when I’m mad.

I’m a passionate person, and therefore tears come a little more frequently for me than others. But that’s to be expected, right? Or maybe it’s my birth control because sometimes that shit fucks me up, and I feel like a raging psycho. But not today. Today was a good day.

I boot up the Who Wants to be a Millionaire app and choose my city. I’ll take on London and Sasha, the other online player. Games have always been my source of comfort. I guess when you’re an only child, you learn to entertain yourself. My grandmother used to love watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on TV and she got me addicted. So you can imagine when the app came out, I was freaking ecstatic. I am determined to become a virtual millionaire. I’m smart and well-versed in trivia. Well, I’m nottoobright. Clearly.

But I had thought Tucker was different. Yes, I know. Let the shit go. But the betrayal is still raw. It’s not that I had a whole lot of boyfriends in my lifetime. Admittedly, Tucker has been my only one. We met in high school, and it was love at first sight for me. He was the smartest kid in our entire class. Not only that, but he was also tall, much taller than me, which was something since I always felt like a giant with my five-foot-ten frame. I wasn’t the tallest girl in our freshman class, but I might as well have been.

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