Page 33 of Composed at Randy's
“I’m not homeless,” I say, looking down at my feet in embarrassment. What the actual fuck? I’m so far from homeless that it isn’t funny. I have rooms in my condo I don’t even know the purpose of, but Kai still makes us dust them anyway.
The sheer ridiculousness of the misunderstanding has my tongue completely tied.
But for some reason, no one here looks like they believe me.
“My name is Wren Dobrev. I’m an artist. You can look me up!” I don't blame them for not knowing who I am, because I had no clue who they were until about an hour ago.
“Rin Dobrev? Okay, let me check.” Harvey does stuff to his phone for a few minutes, and eventually, he looks up frowning, and says, “There’s no artist by that name.”
“What?” My mind whirls as I try to figure out what the hell is going on. I couldn’t have said it wrong, could I? I mean, smooth brain or no, even I’m not dumb enough to forget my own name.
“There’s a Wrensong, but?—”
“That’s me!” Or maybe Iamdumb enough to forget my own name. I don’t use the name Marty gave me for my public persona because I think it's pretentious, so it’s a forgivable mistake, okay?
Bael gives me a kind smile. “There’s no shame in being poor. I’ve been in your place before, I promise. I know what it’s like to not know where your next meal will come from. You don’t need to pretend.”
“I’m... I’m…” I sputter a bit before I’m able to continue. “I’m not pretending! Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Some people get embarrassed about being homeless.”
“I can prove I'm not. Just take me home, and you’ll see.” When they see my fancy apartment, they’ll have no reason not to believe me.
Harvey washes his hands of all of us then by saying. “You all sort this out yourselves. I have something I need to take care of. Just make sure you all get at least a couple of hours of sleep or you're going to be hating life later. It was nice to meet you, Wren. Good luck with…” he waves at me vaguely and then closes the limo door on us.
Harvey raps his knuckles on the top of the limo, and we take off into the night.
It takes me a few minutes to remember my address. Okay, I don't actually manage to remember my address, but I am able to tell them the name of my apartment building, and that's enough for them to get me home. When we arrive outside, I say, “See? I have a home! You can even come and see it if you want.”
Bael gives me an uncertain nod. “Okay, Wren. Let’s go see it.”
So here's where everything goes South.
When we get to the door, the doorman won't let us in.
“No really,” I say to the trim, imposing little man before me. “I live on the top floor! I have for a few years now.”
“I've worked here for two years, and I've never seen you.”
“That’s…” Impossible? No, it's not impossible, because I'm such a weirdo that I only ever use my private elevator that goes right to the garage. Once this is all sorted out, I am going to stop being that weird little shut-in even if it kills me, because this is ridiculous.
I try everything I can think of to get past the door man, and nothing works. There’s no one in my apartment to vouch for me, I don't know anybody's number for him to call, and no one here recognizes me because I'm a freaking hermit.
I'm beyond annoyed, but at least it's good to know that the man is excellent at his job. I doubt anyone who doesn't belong here will ever get in. My apartment is so safe that it's even being protected from me. I'm sure I'll laugh about this someday in the future.
Far, far in the future.
But today I'm standing here in front of a group of really nice but extremely confused hot people, and I'm more embarrassed than I've been in my entire life.
Finally, Bael says, “Come home with us Wren. We’ll get this sorted out for you. I promise.”
What else can I do? Sleep on the streets just to save face? Now that would be doing the opposite of taking it easy, and there is no way I will be able to face any of my keepers if I’m a starving, exhausted mess when they finally find me.
I heave the biggest sigh my little body has in it and say, “Fine. But that really is my apartment building.”
No one responds to that, but no one gives me a sad, pitying look either, which I appreciate. These are just really nice people, and I'm lucky they found me.
It's really hard being stupid sometimes.
