Free When You Least Expect It by Whitney Gaskell Page A

there is,” Trav said. “You can get out of my apartment.”
    Lainey stared at him. “What?”
    “Yeah. I want you out. Now.”
    “Now?” Lainey’s voice was shrill. “Where am I supposed to go at this time of night?”
    “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Trav said. “I just don’t want you here.”
    “Then
you
should leave!”
    “This is my apartment. I pay the rent. You never pay a fucking dime for anything. In fact, where’d you get the money to pay for this pizza?” he asked.
    “I have a job,” Lainey retorted.
    “You stole it from my sock drawer, didn’t you!”
    Lainey was so surprised he’d caught on, that she didn’t rebuff his accusation quickly enough. “No,” she said finally. “Fuck off.”
    Trav snatched up the pizza box. “Then this is my pizza,” he said.
    “I’m pregnant with your baby!” Lainey stood, her hands balled at her sides.
    “You just told me it has nothing to do with me. It’s your body, remember? So get your shit, and get your body out of here,” Trav said.
    “Fine. Whatever,” Lainey said. As she passed by him, she reached out and knocked the pizza box out of his hands. Deep-dish pepperoni spattered onto the graying vinyl floor and, even better, down the front of Trav’s black sleeveless moisture-wicking gym shirt.
    Lainey knocked on the door of her mother’s house. She was clutching a kitchen garbage bag containing all her possessions, which bumped uncomfortably against her shins. To make herself feel better, Lainey tried to picture herself as a television star with a complete set of Louis Vuitton luggage. The fantasy didn’t have the calming effect it normally did.
    The porch light wasn’t on, although that didn’t necessarily mean that no one was home. It could have blown out weeks, even months ago. Lainey’s mother, Candace, rarely got around to such mundane tasks as changing lightbulbs. Lainey knocked again. This time, she could hear an unintelligible squawk of conversation, followed by footsteps approaching and the metallic jingle of a chain lock being unfastened. The door swung open, and a backlit Candace peered out at her daughter.
    Candace was a large, blowsy woman. She had meaty shoulders and arms, and a bloated face that was bare of makeup. Her hair was her one vanity. Although it was too long and, Lainey thought, too blonde, Candace put a lot of effort into styling it—curled bangs, feathered-back sides, lots of volume on top.
    “Hi, Mom,” Lainey said. “Can I come in?”
    “Baby!” Candace exclaimed. She swung open the door and folded Lainey into her arms. Candace smelled as she always did: a potent combination of Aqua Net and gin. Lainey allowed herself to be hugged for a few beats, but then stiffened and stepped away.
    “What are you doing here, sugar?” Candace asked. The words were slightly slurred, but still comprehensible, which Lainey took as a good sign.
    “Trav kicked me out,” Lainey said. She dropped her garbage bag full of clothes on the ground. “Do you mind if I stay for a few nights? Just until I find a new place.”
    Candace peered at her daughter. “He kicked you out?”
    Lainey nodded. “He’s an asshole,” she said by way of explanation.
    “Come on in,” Candace said, turning to start down the short hallway. “We’re all in the living room.”
    “Who’s here?” Lainey asked, her heart sinking. She’d noticed the cars parked at the curb, but had hoped they belonged to one of the other houses. The street was mostly made up of duplexes, all tightly squeezed in on too-small lots, each with only a single driveway.
    “Al, of course, and his friend Richie.” Al was Candace’s live-in boyfriend, and as he was a complete loser, he had a lot in common with every other boyfriend she’d ever had. He sponged off Candace for every dime he could get out of her. Candace wasn’t wealthy, but she did have a steady job at the Florida Department of Transportation that she’d managed to keep despite her drinking