Pushing the elevator, I’m lucky to find it waiting for me.
I disappear inside and receive an encouraging text from Wyatt:
Tell me what she says.
Immediately I type back:
Not interested.
He sends me:
?
My blood is getting hotter as I stare at the descending numbers like a bomb of a shitstorm is about to explode from the viral slamming I hope I can bounce back from.
I walk out of the lobby and into air scented with the promise of rain. Looking up at brooding storm clouds I mutter, “Fitting,” and text my friend back:
She trashed my party on her blog. It went viral.
As I jump in my SUV his text comes through:
Heard about that. That was her? Fuck her. She’s in your rear view.
I stare at the screen a second and type:
You heard? Why didn’t you tell me?
Don’t have to wait long for:
Had no idea it was her.
I stare at his text, wondering if I should correct him and say that I meant how come you didn’t tell me about an article about my party. But I know why, so it’s unnecessary to ask. Wyatt works for the police department and isn’t on social media because of that. He doesn’t run his own business that depends on public opinion.
A call from Gabriella comes through. “Hey Gabs, what’s up?”
“Um…Billy. The owner of the warehouse sent you an email. He’s cancelling your rental agreement.”
“What?”
Her voice is soft and apologetic. “Did you see the video that girl did about you? It’s really bad. She paints you as a terrible person. Some people will do a lot for the Like-button.”
Squeezing my eyes shut I groan, “A video, too? Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Are you coming home?”
“I thought I said to take the day off.”
“When I saw that article…I had a feeling you might need company. And then the video dwarfed it. It’s really bad.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Have you seen it?”
“No, and I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll never be able to unsee it.” Hanging up without a goodbye, I hang my head the whole way home.
How could I have been so wrong about someone? Maybe it was the kiss that set her off. I didn’t ask permission. She must have been offended.
Why did I do something so bold?
It seemed right at the time.
Even a little romantic, which is unusual for me. I haven’t had a girlfriend since college. My business became so fulfilling, I flirted with women but haven’t taken it past that until Haven.
Haven…ha. What an ironic name.
Now everything I’ve worked so hard for is at stake.
CHAPTER 12
HAVEN
Bryn walks into our apartment, throws her keys on the chest of drawers by the front door and eyes me. “Why are you on the sofa in your sweats at four o’clock in the afternoon?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Glancing up, I slide my glasses down onto the tip of my nose and look over them. I’m far-sighted so I don’t need them to enjoy her expression change as I explain, “I quit the paper to be a full-time blogger.”
She mouths the word, what?! Kicking off her shoes, she holds my look. “When did you get a blog? I didn’t know you had a blog.”
“I do now.”
“You just made the blog you quit your job for?”
“Yep.”
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.” As she slides out of her sweater, revealing a tank top cami underneath, and shakes out her blonde hair, I explain, “Since then I have purchased a domain, learned how to use Wordpress thanks to hours of combined video tutorials, created my website, my logo, licensed photographs to make it pop, and published three personal articles I had on my hard drive that weren’t fit for the paper. They were just sitting there useless, never seen by anyone, so that’s pretty cool I can finally publish them, right? You know what I’m doing right now?” She shakes her head, and I proudly announce, “I’m writing the story that inspired it all.”
Bryn picks up my paper coffee cup and drinks. She does that all the time. Took me a year to get used to it. In her mind it means we’re close friends. She’d never bogart an acquaintance’s java.
Nevertheless it always leaves me coffee-less. I should have downed it when I heard her key in the door. But I was distracted.
Besides…why steal her happiness? I’m learning that we should get that wherever we can find it.
Yesterday I had a job. Today my future is uncertain. A chapter of my life closed, kind of like a death. That heightens the sense of time’s urgency. If you could bottle this risk-taking stuff, people might buy it, taste it and realize how exciting it really is—and they might never be unhappy settling again.
“Haven, you’ve lost me.” She sets the emptied cup down. “How did you do all of that so fast?”
“I searched online for how to make a blog, and then I took the steps. My old articles were already written long ago, so that took no time. When you’re not bound to a punch-card, you’ve got a lot of hours to spend your way.”
“I could never do that.” She walks into the kitchen and raises her volume to explain. “Give me a steady paycheck, tons of consistency, and I’m a happy camper. I choose health benefits, thank you!”
I reply, while sliding my glasses back into place, “Self-employment isn’t for everyone. But I am in my sweats.”
“If I were in my sweats, I’d be in my bed, too. You want some water? You sound a little wound up.”
“Sure,” I mutter, typing away.
A few moments later she plants a glass of water where my coffee was, taking the paper cup to throw in our recycling bin. In the far recesses of my mind I hear the faucet rinsing it out, her voice raised to ask, “What made you do this?”
I’m too focused to realize the question was directed at me, even though nobody else lives with us.
She appears in front of me. “Haven!”
I blink up. “Yes?”
“You said
