Not only am I single and lonely, I’m also jobless. And to steal the cherry right off the top of my sundae, I’m homeless for the time being. There’s not much I can do about most of the inadequacies of my life. It’s hard to have a home without money. And as for love? Who in their right mind wants to date a homeless ice cream addict?
But I’m lackluster-ly working on the jobless portion, the one area of my life where I might be able to pull back some control.
I’ve applied to a few other nanny jobs around town, but my heart’s just not really into it. Plus, I couldn't exactly put Eli Kingston down as a job reference. I can only imagine how that reference check call would go.
“Oh yes, I know Jessa. Unless she’s going by a different alias now? Would I consider her to be trustworthy? Sure! If you want her rifling through your personal belongings and private life history, she’s your girl. Especially if you don’t mind her obsession with ex-cons.”
I’m lost in my pitiful day dream, just imagining my sad state of affairs, when my phone rings on the cushion next to me.
When I don’t recognize the phone number, I immediately lose the blanket, sit up taller, and smooth down my wild, thick hair. I know they can’t see me, but this could actually be one of the nanny jobs I applied to, and good posture might give me that extra boost to sound confident on the phone.
“Jessa! My girl!” a familiar voice greets me through the speaker.
My bubble deflates and I emit an internal groan. It’s just my ex-boyfriend. No jobs a-calling for me.
“Hey, Michael. How are you?” I try hard to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Are you sitting down? I’ve got good news for my favorite girl.” I suck in a breath. I hope he’s not about to ask me out again. “I am talking to Sunny Point's newest kindergarten teacher!”
I frown, my wheels moving much slower than they normally would. All this TV and ice cream is really getting to my head. “What? I don’t…I thought I was going to get the job ages ago, but then they never called. The start date has already passed.”
“I know, I know. I hate to tell ya, babe, but you weren’t the school’s first choice. They hired some other chick with twelve years of experience and a big fat resumé but that person bailed once she got a higher-paying job at some private school in Chicago—good riddance—and now they need you to start tomorrow.”
My inner thoughts spill out. “I don’t care if I’m the tenth choice, as long as I got a job.”
I really do need this. I never wanted to leave Crescent Harbor, but at this point, there’s not much holding me here. Maybe I need a fresh start. A clean break.
I spend another few minutes on the line with Michael as he excitedly provides the rest of the details and we make last minute arrangements. It’s all sort of a blur, and I can’t concentrate on anything other than the fact that I need to show up with my teacher face on in less than twenty-four hours. Not to mention needing classroom supplies and an appropriate work outfit. Oh, and you know, finding a place to live would be right up at the top of that list, too, considering my car can’t reliably make the long drive back and forth between Cowersville and Crescent Harbor every day.
I fill my sister in on this breaking development. I pack quickly, struggling to ignore the ache in my chest. I don’t have time to say goodbye to anyone here in Crescent Harbor, and I’m not sure if that makes it easier or not. But I do drive by the Kingston mailbox and leave a note for Diana and Lucas. They’ve been so good to me and it doesn’t feel right to just disappear without a word.
My heart is heavy when I sink behind my wheel again and drive off. When I reach the fork in the road, with one path wrapping back toward the Kingston farm and the other branching off toward my home town, I hesitate.
I let my car idle loudly, just sitting there on the country road as fat tears fill my eyes until I can no longer see. I don’t know how much time has passed when a loud horn sounds behind me, making me jump. The dusty truck zips around me when I don’t move fast enough.
I shake my head and turn on my blinker, sealing my fate. “Goodbye, Eli. Goodbye, Callie,” I whisper through my closed throat, wishing nothing but the best for that sweet child. And for her father, too.
I can barely hold my cracked heart together as I watch Crescent Harbor grow smaller in my dirty rearview mirror.
57 Eli
Electric undercurrents charge the glittering Strip. Lights and billboards and flashing things everywhere.
Glitzy casinos. Gorgeous women. Endless booze.
Sin Valley is a resort destination landlocked smack-dab in the middle of Red River, Iowa, about two hours north of Crescent Harbor. Known for its extravagant hotel-casinos, fine dining, night life and adult entertainment, it’s basically a mini-Las Vegas in the backwoods of Iowa. A neon-lit, middle-of-nowhere oasis where adults can come to spend exorbitant amounts of money and make bad life choices.
And here I am. In a trendy nightclub. At my oldest brother’s bachelor party, a.k.a., the last place on Earth I want to be, especially with the state I’m in.
Apparently, the stranger sitting next to me isn’t in a party mood, either.
I was parked here on a secluded corner bench in this trendy ass club when Jason Bellino, the Iowa Paragons defensive safety, came and plopped down next to me like a sack of potatoes without even throwing a glance my way.
“What the hell does she see in this guy?” he growls peevishly into the air, eyes locked on his phone.
I keep my gaze straight ahead because I’m not
