“It is to me,” Roger replies. “I ain't returning the check. Whether you decided to move out or not is up to you. Either way, this place is yours for the next twelve months.”
He turns and walks away without another word. Feeling my nausea rising, I run to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before throwing up. I flush the toilet and then stand up, turn on the sink and look myself in the mirror for the first time.
The reflection I see staring back at me is a hot mess – and covered in smeared chocolate.
“Yeah, you're a real winner,” I mutter.
I rinse my mouth out and then brush my teeth. Turning on the shower, I strip down and climb in, letting the hot water rain down over me. My mind is still swirling and my heart is still thumping. I let the steam fill the room and breathe it in deeply, letting it clear me out. As the water works its way into my skin and muscles, I feel my head begin to clear and I'm able to focus my thoughts a little better.
I cannot believe that Brady paid my rent for the next year. On the one hand, it's great. It gives me time to find a job. It gives me some security. I won't have to worry about being homeless for a while. On the other hand, it's horrible. Because I know it's not a gesture that comes without strings. Brady doesn't strike me as an altruistic man and I know that he's going to want something in return for such a generous – and expensive – favor.
And it's what he might want in return that scares me.
Not knowing what else to do, I throw on a nice outfit and do what I've done everyday since I got fired – I'm going to hit the bricks, knock on doors, and find a job. I have no idea how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to pay Brady back. Every damn cent of it.
I don't like being indebted to people – least of all, somebody like him.
Chapter Twelve
Brady
I check my watch and lean against the car outside of Amanda's apartment, waiting for her to come down. By now, she has to know that I paid her rent for the next year. I did it as a way of apologizing for getting her fired, of course – even though, I didn't really. If she hadn't been on thin ice to begin with, she wouldn't have gotten canned.
But I did it more as a way to get her attention. I really think that we can help each other and benefit from having a business relationship. I just need to make her see that, which is going to be no small feat. The girl is one of the angriest people I've ever met. She walks around with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas itself.
But, I have to try. I have to find a way to make this work. I need the help, she needs the help, and we can both help each other. This is a good thing.
I've had a private investigator doing some background work and also tailing her for the last week or so, so I know her routine pretty well. Yeah, it might be a little creepy, but if I want to make my pitch to her, it'll be easier to do if I know where to find her – because I have a feeling, I'm going to have to make the pitch several times. And if there's one lesson I did learn from my father, it's that persistence pays off.
Okay, this probably isn't the way he intended that lesson, but I'm going with it anyway.
“Well, good morning, Amanda,” I say as she comes out of her building.
“You know, there's cheaper ways to get a girl to talk to you,” she says.
I give her a slow smile. “Probably so,” I say. “But I don't want to talk to just any old girl.”
In dark slacks, a white button-down shirt, and black jacket, she looks every inch the professional. I can tell from where I am though, that her outfit is well worn. It's definitely not new and it's most definitely off-the-rack finds rather than anything name brand. Probably things she found on sale at a discount store.
With her red hair tied back in a ponytail that reaches the middle of her back, skin the color of alabaster, and eyes that sparkle like polished jade, she's a striking girl. She's trim, but athletic. She's got an hourglass figure and I can tell that she works out. She's a beautiful woman – though most wouldn't define her as classic, or Hollywood beautiful.
She's not my usual type – which is probably a good thing for what I am going to propose – but I find that women are like exquisite pieces of art and can appreciate their own unique beauty all the same.
She looks like she wants to run, but instead turns to me with genuine fury in her eyes. Her chin up and head back, she marches over to me, her scuffed and worn heels click-clacking on the pavement.
“How in the hell do you know where I live, anyway?” she snaps. “Are you following me?”
I shrug. “No, I paid somebody to follow you.”
She looks at me with disbelief in her eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Well – yeah,” I say. “I needed to vet you.”
“Vet me?”
I nod. “I have a proposition to make and I just wanted to check you out a bit,” I say. “It's just smart business.”
The look on her face is one that is both incredulous and exasperated at the same time. “I can't believe you,” she says. “You invasive, creepy, son of a –”
“I didn't dig too deeply, darlin'. I didn't want to be too invasive,” I say. “I just wanted to know if you had a criminal background or anything. The good news is, you came back squeaky clean. Like I said, it's just smart business.”
“Gee, that's great,” she says. “I'm ever so glad to hear that.”
“It's also how I knew you were in trouble with your landlord,” I say. “It's why I wanted to help on that front. To hopefully, sort of make up for – what happened the last time we saw each other.”
“You mean, the day you got me fired,” she says – a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, that,” I say slowly. “I feel bad about it and wanted to try to make it up to you.”
She looks at the ground and sighs. I can tell she's not happy, but she also knows she's caught between a rock and a hard place. Finally, she looks back up and gives me a tight smile – one I can tell is very far from genuine.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” she said, her tone icy.
“Well, it's traditional when somebody does something nice for you,” I reply, grinning. “At least, down here in Texas.”
She looks angry, like she's about to unload on me. If she had a gun, she might not hesitate to put a round or two in me. It's amusing. She looks at the ground and sighs and I swear that she's counting to ten. Finally, she looks back up at me, her eyes dark with anger and suspicion.
“Thank you,” she says, trying to actually sound thankful – and failing. “I appreciate your generosity. Just know that I will pay back every dime of this when I get back on my feet.”
I wave her off. “Don't worry about it, darlin'. It was my pleasure.”
Her eyes narrow and she looks at me like she wants to murder me even more than she did just two minutes ago. And I'm not entirely sure what has her so riled up.
“While I appreciate the very generous gesture,” she says through gritted teeth. “I will pay you back. And please, do not refer to me as darlin'. It's demeaning.”
I nod, finally understanding. “I'm sorry about that,” I say. “It's a Texas thing. I don't mean anything by it.”
“All the same, please stop calling me that,” her voice is tight.
I nod. “Noted,” I say. “As for the rent thing, consider that my way of trying to make it up for getting you fired. I know I played a role in that –”
“No,” she says and sighs. “That's on me. It's my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper – well, I did. No sense dwelling on it now.”
I see the pain flash through her eyes, but then it's gone in the next heartbeat. In that moment though, I realize that Amanda isn't a woman who likes to be thought of as weak. Unable to care for herself. She's wrapped so much of her self-image in her need to stand on her own two feet that she blinds herself to a lot of other things.
And then I grin to myself, shaking my head as Thomas' words float through my mind.
“Is something funny?” she asks.
“I was just realizing how similar we are, you and I.”