Page 61 of Howl for Me
Chapter Two
Thesuitcaseyawnsopenon the floor, half-empty already, its contents spilling out in soft, familiar piles of clothes. I sit back on my heels, rolling a worn t-shirt between my fingers; it still smells like home. I shake the thought off and keep unpacking. Not that there’s much. A handful of clothes, a couple of dog-eared books, and a tin of loose change I never got around to spending. My dad’s old denim jacket that's too big on me but was impossible to leave behind feels heavy in my hands.. I smooth my hands over the fabric, my chest tightening. He didn’t want me to leave, but he was a little more supportive, knowing nothing was going to hold me back. He’d hugged me so tight the day I left. Told me to be careful, and to my surprise, whispered he was proud of me.
Mom hadn’t said much. She just watched from the doorway, arms crossed, mouth pressed into that tight little line that hadbeen her signature for as long as I could remember. No tears, no dramatic farewell, just a clipped "Don’t expect me to come save you."
As if I’d ever needed her to.
The last of my things get tucked away; clothes folded neatly, books stacked in the smallest, saddest pile on the nightstand. I glance toward the window. The sun has slipped away and I have no clue what time it is now. I let out a slow breath. All done.
Knock, knock, knock.
The knock is quick and impatient, like whoever’s on the other side is already planning on knocking again if I don’t answer fast enough. Probably just a mistake. Someone looking for a different door. Still, I hesitate only a beat before stepping forward and opening the door.
Standing before me is a woman who could stop traffic. She’s tall, with skin the color of honeyed caramel, and cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. Her auburn hair, teased high and cascading over her shoulders, screams “movie star glamour.”
“Well, hello there, neighbor,” she purrs, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the cigarette dangling between her two elegantly manicured fingers. Everyone smokes here. I make a mental note to try not to pick up the habit. I’ve never smoked before. The smell always turned me off of it. She makes me want to start, though. She stands with her hips cocked to one side like she belongs in some glossy magazine ad.
“I’m Lori. Also known as the welcome wagon. Miss Audrey has told everyone about the new girl, so I thought I'd come over and introduce myself.”
I blink, trying not to stare. “Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Cassidy,” I say, my voice betraying the slight tremor I can’t quite control. I’m still getting used to being around so many beautiful, confident, outspoken people.
Lori laughs, a soft, melodic sound, “Cassidy, huh? That’s a pretty name.” She eyes me up and down in a way that feels both approving and oddly intimate. “You seem like you’re a long way from home, girl.”
I nod, suddenly aware of how small I feel next to her. “Yeah, a small town in Utah. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
Her lips twitch into a knowing grin. “Oh, I know all about small towns. Mena, Arkansas, is where I ran from. I just hide the accent real well.” She lets a little twang slip into her voice, and something about it makes her seem even more charming, like a secret she’s letting me in on. She steps closer, and before I can respond, she grabs my hand and pulls me across my door frame.
“Us small-town gals need to stick together, right? You’re coming out with me tonight.”
I almost trip over my own feet. “Wait, what?”
Lori giggles, a sound like bells, and before I can protest, she drags me into her apartment. The place is nothing like mine, with walls covered in eclectic art, the furniture sleek and glamorous. It smells like expensive perfume and paint. There are paint brushes and paint scattered in various places. This art must be done by her, which only makes this beautiful woman even more interesting. I feel out of place, like a mismatched puzzle piece.
“Don’t just stand there, Cass,” Lori calls over her shoulder, already halfway in her closet, tossing hangers around like a woman on a mission.
“You need a change. I’ve got just the thing.”
I glance down at myself, frowning.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
She peeks out, one perfectly arched brow lifting. “Sweetheart, you look like you just got off a Greyhound bus.”
I cross my arms. “I did just get off a bus.”
“Exactly my point.” She turns back to her closet, triumphant, as she pulls out a dress and holds it up against me. The fabric looks so soft and pretty.
“The minute I saw those bright blue eyes and that beautiful blonde hair, I knew I had to see you in this.”
I hesitate, chewing my lip. The dress is gorgeous; something slinky, something meant for a girl who knows exactly where she belongs in this city. That’s not me. Not yet, at least.
Lori watches me, head tilting. “Come on,” she coaxes, shaking the dress a little. “Trust me.”
And maybe it’s the way she says it, or maybe it’s the way her whole face lights up, like she already knows I’ll say yes, but I do.
Lori stops mid-motion, sets the clothes down, and looks me dead in the eyes. “Hey. I was you two years ago. Fresh from home in a new city. Scared shitless. I wish I’d had someone to help me through those first few months, you know?” Her voice softens. “I know you’ve got something to prove out here, just like I did. But trust me, you’ve got to have some fun, too. That’s how you survive this city.”
I feel the tension in my chest ease. Lori’s gaze is steady, like she can see right through me, and suddenly I realize we’re not so different after all. She smiles, and it’s like a weight lifts off my shoulders. “There she is,” she says, before I can overthink it, she thrusts the dress into my arms. “Now go put this on, gorgeous. We’re gonna be late.”
