Page 9 of Kiss the Girl
I slid off my shoes and collapsed on the couch to stare at the ceiling. I could respect Grace’s reasons for not dating. It was a bummer for sure, but it would be fun to hang out with her at the wedding tomorrow anyway.
I reached for the remote to watch the NBA finals game, but my front doorknob rattled, and a very angry woman walked in.
“I’m going to kill you!”
I straightened back up on the sofa. “Something wrong, Paige?”
“Only that you’re the worst brother ever.” She charged toward me but on instinct, I batted away the pillow she threw at me. I knew Paige’s go-to moves.
“What did I do this time?” Outbursts from Paige were the norm. She got mad at me a lot and lived across the hall, so it made it easier for her to charge in…uh, constantly, really.
“The rent?”
I blinked at her. “I need to buy a vowel.”
She smacked me with a pillow I didn’t see coming. “You switched our rents.”
“Oh. That.” Leave it to Paige to get mad about paying less rent.
“You havegotto stop treating me like I’m a kid. I’m twenty-freaking-four. And a mom. And this whole time I’ve been so proud of putting a roof over Evie’s head even if it’s kind of a crappy apartment, and it turns out thatyouhave been paying the two-bedroom rent, and I’ve been paying forone.”
She didn’t need to explain the situation. I was the one who’d set it up that way with the office when we’d signed leases here. “It’s not a big deal. You could be paying even less if you’d let me lease a house for all of us. Evie would love it.”
“Gah!” She slashed her hand across her throat in a “cut it” motion. “What do I have to do to convince you that I don’t need you parenting me? I’ve got this. Move to Creekville so you don’t have to commute. Evie and I are fine.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I headed to the fridge. I grabbed a Gatorade and handed her one. She took it almost on reflex. “I can afford it. You know this is what Mom and Dad would have wanted.” This was mostly true. The first part was stretching it. A fifth-year teacher’s salary only went so far. My stipend for coaching wrestling only helped so much. It was maybe a month’s worth of rent for the whole season, and I was using that to supplement Evie’s daycare costs, which would definitely result in my murder if Paige found out.
“Then at the very least, quit smothering me. You’ve been so much worse since Lauren dumped you.”
I flinched but said nothing, and she slammed her bottle down and stormed back out of the apartment.
Good old Hurricane Paige.
I leaned against the counter and drank my Gatorade, counting slowly in my mind. She was back before I got to twenty.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She kept her eyes on the floor.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. That was a low blow. I never liked Lauren anyway.” She picked up her drink and cracked it open.
“What’s going on, Paige?” Spend enough time around teenagers all day, and you started to figure out that eruptions were rarely about whatever had set them off. There was always something under it. Same with Paige. “Something happen at work?”
“The usual. Marvin is the literal worst. He was nitpicking everything I did today, from the way I carried the trays to the way I filled the condiment bottles.” She slumped against the counter and took a long swallow from her bottle.
“Sorry.” I had to be careful about what to say here, or she’d get defensive. I’d told her a hundred times to quit and go to school, but she wouldn’t do it because it would mean depending on me even more. “Marvin’s a jerk.”
“Yeah.” She drank again then sighed, some of the fight draining out of her. “Look, I’m sorry I barged in here. But you can’t keep paying my rent like that.”
“I’m barely paying any of it.”
“Any is too much. Seriously, I can afford it.”
She couldn’t. Her car was twenty years old and running on pure cussedness, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought herself anything new, and she was working several double shifts a week to make her bills. I didn’t mind watching Evie on the nights she worked; I liked it, actually. But I hated that she had to work so hard at a job that wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
If Paige could get a job at a nicer restaurant so she’d make better tips, it would make a huge difference, but the nearest fine dining place was ten miles away, and she couldn’t count on her car to get her there dependably. The heap worked when it wanted to, but at least at the diner she could ride my bike if the car wouldn’t start.
“Okay. I’ll quit paying your rent.”
