Page 56 of The Ruckup
I relax a little now that she seems to be perking up. “And you saved me from it. It’s only fair that I have the opportunity to save you from the awful shit you dealt with before me.”
Maddie sobers just a little. “I really wish Drake would just move on. You would think he’d get tired of being arrested.”
My stomach clenches. “You would think.”
Drake’s lack of concern regarding his arrest recordistroubling. Because if jail time isn’t a deterrent, I doubt I’m as big of a threat as I want to believe.
Which means Maddie isn’t nearly as safe as I keep trying to tell myself she is.
19
DO NOT Whip That Out
Maddie
“YOU’RE KIDDING, RIGHT?” I was hoping I’d seen most of the craziness this job had in store for me at this point—especially considering the craziness in my own life has multiplied exponentially—but apparently the retirees at Sweet Side Apartments still have plenty up their sleeves.
And today is not the day for them to whip any of it out.
“Why would I be kidding?” Charlene, one of the newer tenants at Sweet Side Apartments seems shocked I’m not immediately agreeing to her request. “I don’t own the place. Why should I pay to replace the carpets?”
“Umm, because your dog is the reason they’re ruined?” I can’t believe I really have to spell this out. “The carpet is replaced in each unit before someone new moves in, so any damage was done by you.”
I’m a little surprised at how aggressive I sound. How confrontational. I kind of like it.
Instead of trying to be unbearably nice like I normally would, I sit up straighter, and tell her like it is. “So, no. I won’t bereplacing the carpet you’ve let your dog ruin in…”—I check the file on my desk—“four months.”
“Humph.” Charlene scowls at me from where she plopped herself down in one of my clearly not-uncomfortable-enough office chairs. “Maybe I’ll just have to call your boss and tell him you’re making people live in squalor.”
“You know what?” I open the drawer to my left, fishing out one of Andy’s business cards so I can slide it across the desk. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
I've spent over two decades trying my best to be nice. To be agreeable. To keep the water calm and the boat steady. I’m tired of it. It’s gotten me nowhere good, and I’m done.
Everyone can freaking sink.
Being passive and afraid of upsetting anyone is what led to marrying Drake. Deep down, I knew it was wrong. If I'd been braver—less worried of upsetting him and my parents—I would have called the wedding off. Instead, I put other people's opinions and happiness above my own, making the worst mistake of my life.
I’m done caring what other people want and what other people think of me. Done putting their happiness above my own.
So I give the woman still glaring at me a sweet smile. "I'll send an email letting him know you'll be reaching out." I don't look away as she snatches the card up, because I don't want her to think she intimidates me.
Even if she does a little bit. I might be ready to start making changes, but a tiger can’t lose its stripes overnight. And I sure asheck won’t go from being afraid to speak up for myself to being a bad bitch in the blink of an eye.
Charlene jolts to her feet, clearly pissed. Her eyes snap to the business card before narrowing on my face. "Hopefully you have another job lined up."
I force the smile to stay on my face, doing my best to make it look as genuine as possible because I know that will piss her off more. "I guess we'll see. Have a great day."
I turn away from her, fusing both eyeballs to my computer as she continues standing in my office. Since I'm not sure what else to do, I follow through with my threat. Opening my email, I begin to type out a message to Andy, letting him know what’s going on. Before I can hit send, Charlene huffs angrily and spins away, stomping into the vestibule and slamming her way out of the building.
After firing off the email, I slouch in my seat, head falling back as I close my eyes and release all the air from my lungs. I thought old people were sweet and cute and harmless. It was one of the big draws to this job. I assumed they'd be bringing me cookies and calling me deary, ushering in a gentler time for me.
Instead, they’re trying to drill holes through bathroom ceilings and expecting me to replace the carpet every four months.
Oh, and I can’t forget about setting cars on fire with dead bodies inside.
A dead body that thankfully didn’t end up being Eugene Goodwin. I don’t know who itwas, but Mr. Goodwin finally came back from an extended trip to Italy a few days ago.
Thank God.
