I nodded, but I felt doubtful. My life was already derailed. My old best friend had gone and gotten married and was mired in family and change.
Then my new best friend had fallen in love with someone else. I was still feeling the loss of Frankie. And not just his money. I didn’t realize how much he kept me feeling good about myself. Appearing to be in a fun, stable relationship had made it seem real.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I liked it.
I sat on a bench a couple buildings away from the campus clinic. I didn’t have another class for an hour. I watched people walking by, and just like Corabelle said, it cleared out not too long after. Everyone was either in class or heading home.
I adjusted my sunglasses and checked my bandana. I couldn’t hide the entire bushel of dreadlocks, but it was pretty good. I should have worn a hoodie. The day had a bit of a chill, which was why I’d pulled out the Uggs and the skirt. Navy and purple were my thing, a perfect foil for my pink hair. Pretty soon it would be summer and my amazing wardrobe would be the wrong season.
Back to old Jenny clothes.
Back to old Jenny.
Just to be sure no one was following me, I walked quickly between a couple buildings and circled back.
Nobody was around.
Okay. I could do this.
I rushed up to the small glass door of the clinic and hurried inside.
A woman sat behind a desk, friendly and easygoing with short gray hair in a girlish bob. Two girls waited in chairs. They glanced up at me, then returned to their cell phones.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“I wondered if I could make an appointment,” I said.
“What did you want to be seen for?” she asked.
I squeezed my hands in fists. I really didn’t want to say this out loud. I leaned forward. “A VD screening,” I whispered.
“Are you showing symptoms?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe?”
“Let’s see when I can fit you in.” She tapped on her screen. “Can you come back Wednesday?”
“I’m in class until 2.”
“That’s fine, just come after,” she said.
I’d have to return to the building, but I guessed I was committed now.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
I was grateful for Frankie one more time as I pulled out my custom business cards, designed by his assistant and paid for by him. Now I didn’t have to say it out loud.
The woman tapped in my information and passed back the card. “Pretty,” she said.
“Thanks.” I held it in my palm like a relic from better days. It was soft pink, almost white, and had an intricate swirl in one corner. It read “Jenny Gillespie. Assistant and Social Media Management for Public Figures.”
I shoved it in my backpack as I left. I couldn’t manage my own social media at the moment. I had no business acting like I could help somebody else with theirs.
One life problem at a time. Now I had to go to class and act like I wasn’t yet again having to deal with my impulsive stupidity.
Chapter 22: Chance
The vegan cafe in downtown Portland was quiet and small. The tables were full, though, and the little stage in the corner was just right for a single musician.
I kept everything light and soft, easygoing music for the dinner crowd. The owner of the place, a tall spindly woman with frizzy gray hair tied a wide scarf, stood by the swinging doors to the kitchen and watched. She seemed pleased with my choices. I figured if I did all right, she’d let me come back again tomorrow night. One less thing to worry about as I settled in the new city.
The people here were older, looked to be well off, and had an appreciation for things money couldn’t buy. They were polite and tipped well. This was my second set, and my first one had gotten a bigger take than my past three gigs combined, for just two hours.
I was feeling fine.
A woman in a long blue dress that kissed the floor came up and dropped money in the silver bucket the owner had provided me. Then she leaned in close. “It’s my anniversary,” she said, pointing to a friendly-looking guy at a table by the wall. “Do you know ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’?”
I tensed up at the words, but I nodded. She beamed at me, so excited that I would sing her request.
I played back through the chorus on the song I was finishing up. The conversations were hushed, and fabric on the walls kept the noise levels low. I diddled through a bridge to shift me from one key to the next. Then I strummed the opening chords of her request.
I almost couldn’t do it. When I got to the opening line, the world burst wide, the cafe disappeared and instead, the crowd at the base of the stage from the movie party filled my vision. Jenny looked up at me, her pink dreadlocks on her bare shoulders.