Page 6 of Joy
And I realized for the first time since I left LA over a week ago that I could breathe. Uncertainty and self-loathing had knotted my gut so tight lately that it was startling to take a deep breath and feel… almost okay. Not entirely, because I was going to be thousands of dollars in the hole very soon and only had enough money to my name to pay Bridget and Bernard for a week’s stay. But still… being able to take a breath was nice.
I set my bag on the floor and left. There were six rooms in the house, with shared bathrooms on both the second and third floors. Some tourists were already staying in the other suites, but luckily the bathroom was free, so I slipped inside.
Frowning at my reflection, I combed my fingers through my hair and fixed the collar of my button-down shirt. A tie would make my sorry ass look more professional when I went begging for a job, but of course I hadn’t packed one. Actually, I don’t think I even owned a tie. My black sweater made me look acceptable, but it was kind of wrinkled.
And there wasn’t shit I could do to hide my tattoos.
I walked out of the bathroom and down the long hallway, the antique floor creaking quietly under my feet. I went downstairs, across the foyer, and out the front door. Bridget and Bernard were standing in front of the house, both wearing ridiculous matching sunhats and discussing flowers.
“How’s the room?” Bridget called when I stepped outside.
“Great,” I replied.But I’ll probably never be able to look at pink again after this.
“Off to job hunt, then?” Bernard asked next.
I nodded and went down the porch steps toward them. “Any advice on where to go? Or avoid?”
They looked at each other.
“You should stay away from Bucker’s,” Bridget answered.
“What’s Bucker’s?”
“A bar.”
“I know how to bartend, though.”
She made a face. “Ah, but the owner isn’t…. There are more accepting folks in town you’d much rather want to work for.”
“He doesn’t likeflatlanders,” Bernard supplied.
“Or gays,” Bridget added.
“Honey,” Bernard murmured.
“What?” she protested. “He doesn’t!”
I cleared my throat.
Bridget smiled and grabbed my hand, patting it. “Just because we’re a small country town doesn’t mean we’re all closed-minded like that prick.”
I held back my laughter at hearing a grandma sayprick.
“Was it presumptuous of me to say something?” Bridget asked, letting go of my hand.
“Well—no, I mean, you’re right.” I might have been unsure of most everything in life, but my sexuality was at least one aspect that had its feet firmly planted.
Bridget nodded knowingly.
“Try some of the restaurants,” Bernard said. “Tourists are starting to roll in with the nice weather. Someone is bound to be looking for seasonal help.”
“I’ll do that, thank you,” I answered. I said good-bye and headed off in the direction Bernard pointed me.
The sky was bright pinks and oranges as I reached Main Street. It was quaint. I don’t think there was a word better suited to describe Lancaster. The road went down for some ways, and lining either side were a bunch of little mom-and-pop shops. Antique store, bank, clothing store—aone-roommovie theater?
How did these people live?
The sidewalks had a bit of foot traffic as work was ending for the day, and there were definitely more cars on the road, but if this was considered rush hour….
