Page 15 of Your Every Wish
“It’s mine. Why?” Surprisingly, it made it all the way from Vegas without breaking down.
“Just that it’s good that at least one of us has a car.”
I dart a glance at the driveway. Sure enough there’s only one car parked on the gravel drive. Mine. “How did you get here?”
“Dex drove me.”
What kind of a son of a bitch drops a woman without a car in the middle of nowhere? How is she supposed to get to a grocery store . . . or anywhere? “How have you been managing without a ride?”
“There’s a bus that runs to town twice a week. Super convenient. Much cleaner than Muni, that’s for sure. But maybe later, when you’re settled in, we can go to the market and pick up some groceries. I’ve got sodas and beer but I’m running low on food.”
“Yeah, sure.” Usually, I grab a bite at one of the restaurants in Caesars, so this is going to take a little getting used to. Having a roommate is going to take a lot of getting used to. But I try to take it in stride because it beats the hell out of a cell at the Clark County Detention Center. Then I glance around my new digs with its dirty shag carpeting and dark-paneled walls and reconsider. Maybe jail’s better.
I finish hanging my clothes in the closet. The rod sags under the few clothing items I brought with me. Emma follows me into the primary bath and starts handing me my toiletries to put away in the vanity, which must’ve been installed before either of us was born. The counter only comes up to my hips, the drawers stick, and the mirror seems to be permanently fogged.
“It’s not so bad,” Emma says.
“If you say so.”
“If we painted the paneling a bright white and got a few rugs to cover the carpet it could be really cozy.”
“Sure. A veritable Palace of Versailles.”
“If you hate it so much, why did you come?” Emma challenges.
Because I had no choice. “Because I want to get this place sold and I can’t do that from Vegas.”
“There is no ‘I!’ We’re”—and she emphasizes the “we” in “we’re”—“going to do our due diligence before we make any rash decisions.”
“Of course,” I say just to appease her. As far as I’m concerned there’s no due diligence to do other than list the dump and take the money and run. “But I need to be here for that. Grab your purse and let’s go to the market.”
Outside, that guy from the pool the other day is lurking around, trying to act inconspicuous. “Hey,” I yell at him. “Are you the groundskeeper around here?”
“No, I live here.”
Why?I want to say because unlike the others, he looks normal. Young. Or at least younger than the average age of the people who live here, which is ancient. He’s even kind of hot in a clean-cut, kind of lost way.
“Do you need something done?” he says to Emma, not me.
“I don’t think so.” She smiles at him, and he turns bright red. “But thanks for offering.”
We get in the car, and I turn to her. “Maybe he can fix that broken window in the living room.”
“Kennedy, it’s not his job. You heard him. He lives here, he’s not a handyman.”
“Jeez, he’s the one who offered. And critters can get in, not to mention cold air. It’s almost winter.”
“I’m not going to ask some random dude to fix our stuff. We can call a glass company if you want it fixed.”
There’s a tap on my window and I jerk around to find Misty standing there. She’s got on a jogging suit, the pants tucked into a pair of Ugg boots. I turn on the ignition and unroll the window.
“Hi.”
“I see you’re back. We’re having a meeting tonight at six in the clubhouse. We’d love for you and Emma to attend.”
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. Here we go.
“We’ll be there,” Emma promises.
