Page 57 of Bottle Shock
“It feels—” I shake my head, trying to catch up with my own heart. “It feels like maybe my career isn’t as dead as I thought.”
He nods once, still watching the waffle instead of me. “Guess that means you won’t be stuck here much longer, huh?”
Right on cue, Lily bounds into the kitchen, cutting off our conversation. “Scottie!” she squeals, launching herself into my side. “I’m so glad you came!”
“Me too.” I roll my lips together, sneaking a look at Gavin. I thought he’d be a little more enthusiastic. Maybe it’s just too early—he’s probably still waking up.
I take another sip of the green juice and catch Lily watching me, nose wrinkling.
“I told you not to drink it. Be careful, sometimes he puts celery in it.” She makes a dramatic gagging sound.
I toss my head back, laughing. “Gross. What a mean daddy.”
Gavin gives us both a mock glare as he sets another waffle on the plate. “All right, ladies. Who wants the first waffle?”
CHAPTER 16
Scottie
I DON’T HAVE CHOICE
Who invented hold music? And why is it always the worst? Something about“Your call is very important to us”loses meaning the fifth time it loops.
I switch my phone to speaker and settle my feet on the barstool footrest, scrolling through an email from my agent for the twentieth time. Eight weeks. Paid rehearsals. Union scale. A job that could actually get me back on the health plan—if I can survive until then.
I’ve been trying to get through to my insurance ever since I tried and failed to get my medications. I’m hoping for better luck this time.
Finally, a voice comes through. “Thank you for holding. This is Jade. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, yes,” I say, attempting to sound competent instead of panicky. “I’m trying to figure out why my insurance isn’t active. I thought I was still covered from my last qualifying job, but when I went to pick up my prescriptions the other day, they said my plan had lapsed.”
“Okay, let me take a look.” Keyboard clicking fills the line. “Can I get your member ID or Social?”
I rattle it off, too nervous to sit, and start pacing the small kitchenette of the pool house. I figured I should take advantage of the privacy here—something my parents’ house doesn’t exactly offer.
“Alright,” Jade says after a pause. “So, it looks like your coverage ended at the close of the last qualifying period in July.”
“How?” I frown. “I had a job in June.”
“Yes, but coverage is based on your covered earnings from the previous twelve-month base period. Because your employment ended, you didn’t meet the minimum earnings threshold to maintain eligibility.”
I press my palm to my forehead. “So I’m just uninsured?”
“You’re currently in your grace period for requalification, but there’s no active coverage until new earnings are reported. If you start a new union job, your coverage will begin the first of the month after your employer reports wages. You’ll also have to pay your quarterly premium again once you’re eligible.”
“So basically,” I mutter, “I need to start working again before I can afford to stay alive long enough to start working again.”
She hesitates, polite but awkward. “I can’t really comment on that, ma’am.”
Great. Another person on my ever-growing shit list of people who call me ma’am.
“Of course you can’t.”
There’s a moment of silence where I consider crying or screaming or both. Instead, I say, “I do have a potential upcoming project. A live show. The job starts in about six weeks. Would that reinstate me?”
“Yes, once your employer reports your earnings, you would regain coverage—most likely the following month.”
“Great,” I say weakly. “Assuming I don’t die before then.”
