Free The Offer by Karina Halle Page B

Kayla, and sometimes Linden, we were
able to pack up my apartment really fast. Even though it’s a small
place, I was surprised how much junk I’d collected over the years.
I think there’s a sentimental hoarder somewhere inside me but it
was very freeing to give a lot of it away. Clean slate.
    Ava is off
with my mom in Livermore for the day, which is wonderful, although
I’m extremely nervous about her giving the insulin shots correctly.
I know I shouldn’t doubt my mom – I showed her how and she has a
neighbor with diabetes just in case she needs help but I think my
worry meter has been pushed to eleven for the rest of my life.
    Steph, Kayla,
Linden and Bram are all helping me this moving day. Bram said he
would gladly pay for the cost of a moving company, but I don’t want
any more of his charity, and to be honest, I wanted to see him
sweat a little. We’ve been up since 6am and working like maniacs to
get everything packed up. With a few final boxes we were back in
the apartment, probably – hopefully – for the last time.
    I mull over
what Steph just said. “In a good way or a bad way?”
    “In a good
way,” she says, drinking her own coffee for a second, her bright
magenta lipstick leaving clean marks on the lid. “I mean, this is
amazing. I just hope Bram stays true to his word.”
    “Well, I’m a
charity case, remember?”
    “I gotta say
that surprises me too. Because I never knew he was big on charity,
even when tax breaks were involved.” She smiles at me. “But you
know what, charity or tax breaks or whatever, this is awesome for
you.”
    “Almost done?”
Kayla asks, appearing at the doorway. Her pale skin is flushed with
sweat, her long black hair pulled back into a ponytail underneath a
pink baseball cap. She’s not wearing any makeup and as usual she
looks fantastic. Her Japanese mother passed onto her perpetually
flawless skin.
    “Almost,” I
tell her. “There’s a box for you.” I nod at a huge one in the
corner.
    “Oh, great,”
she says sarcastically and goes over, bending down to lift it.
“Don’t tell me all your hardcover books are in here.”
    “Pillows and
cushions,” I tell her just as she lifts it up with ease.
    She comes over
with it and looks around at the empty walls. It doesn’t even look
like I lived here at all. “Wow. I know you made this place real
cute, Nicola, but I think we all need to have some champagne
tonight to celebrate the fact that I don’t have to come back to
this damn neighborhood and get asked by Hustlin’ Joe outside for
change and a BJ every time I visit.”
    “Hustlin’
Joe?” I repeat.
    She shrugs.
“His words, not mine. Okay, ladies, are you done taking in the
water-stained ceiling and the peeling linoleum? Because the men
want to get this show on the road. Remember unpacking is just as
bad as packing.”
    I take in a
deep breath. I’m ready.
    We go outside
and I see my landlord – soon to be ex – Mr. Stanley, standing by
the building with his short arms crossed over his portly stomach,
smoking a cigarette and glaring at the moving van. That was one
thing I let Bram hire for the day.
    “Mr. Stanley,”
I say to him, coming over, cradling my box that I’ve labeled
“Kitchen Crap.” In a second, Linden comes and wordlessly takes the
box out of my hands and puts it in the van.
    “Don’t expect
to get a good reference from me,” Mr. Stanley says to me, cigarette
puffing out the sides of his fat mouth. He frowns so much he looks
like he has a unibrow.
    “Well, that’s
not exactly fair,” I tell him calmly, though what I really want to
do is give him a piece of my mind. “I would have given you a
month’s notice but it just didn’t end up that way. Wouldn’t you
have rather this than me not paying rent and having to evict
me?”
    “But I enjoy
evicting people,” he says with smile. “And this way, you don’t get
your security deposit back.”
    Shit. Shit.
Shit! I completely forgot about that deposit. $500 is a hell of