The move-in date was New Years, which Jasmine expressed was "a sign": starting off the New Year in new surroundings. Myla wasn't as upset anymore, but she wasn't ready to be excited either – not even after she saw how big her new room – the room that she was getting all to herself – was.

The only she had to look forward to on moving day was Jen, Myla's friend, and the only one who readily offered herself up to help them move. Really, Jen Morris could probably be considered a "best friend", if Myla thought more of herself, but friends were hard to come by for her at all. Keeping them was the most challenging bit honestly; friendships required this certain level of maintenance that Myla simply wasn't good at maintaining, but Jen was an exception. The type of friend that you can pick things up right where they left off, no matter how long it's been. Myla still made attempts to hang out with Jen as often as she could, though. Any chance she could be around someone and have it feel effortless was a chance she took.

Predictably, it was left to Myla and Jen to do the bulk of the unpacking, as Jasmine found an excuse to bail the second the moving guys brought up the last box. Jen didn't mind, because she was just that great. Myla was also secretly grateful for Jasmine's departure anyway, having looked forward to quality friendship alone time with someone she actually felt comfortable talking to. Jen had been told about Oswald in the absolute vaguest possible terms, but with everything that had been going on the last month, Myla was more than ready to fully vent to someone and ask advice.

After unpacking the kitchen and shifting around the furniture in the living room, the pair settled down on the couch with the pizza that had just arrived.

"I'm glad you finally have your own place." Jen grinned. "I'm coming here all the time, you know. Fuck I feel like we haven't hung out in a while." Liv and Roy had always been considerably less-than welcome of guests.

"Yeah." Myla agreed, while trying to figure out how to approach the subject that she really wanted to discuss. "Hey, so, you know how I've been using you as a cover to see that guy?"

"Ugh, yes." Jen made a face.

"Well, I'm ready to say more."

Jen paused mid-bite, half the slice already in her mouth. "Really?" She swallowed the food so quickly Myla feared she would choke. "Oh my god." She scooted closer.

"Would you like to open with a question?"

"How long has this really been going on for?"

"Since October – I wasn't lying about that."

"Fair enough," Jen shrugged, "but still, why all the secrecy?"

"It's...complicated." Myla said sheepishly.

Jen made the face again. "I hate those words MK – what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing is wrong with him, I swear. It's Jasmine."

"Jazz?" Jen asked. "Are you dating one of her gross exes? You're supposed to be the one with better standards, dude."

"Not an ex – her boss." Myla explained, watching her friend's expression quickly turn to one of exasperation.

"Doesn't she work for, like, a mob bar or something? Like a MOB bar?"

Actually, she works for a restaurant now." Myla corrected, as if it changed anything.

Jen saw right through that one. "But it's owned by the same guy who runs the MOB bar, yeah?"

Whole lot of good that did her. Myla bit her tongue before answering. "Yes."

Jen set her crust down, folding her hands in front of her. "Well," she sighed, "let's try to salvage this conversation, because I still want the details. I'm guessing you met through Jasmine, but how did he ask you out?"

"It was pretty sweet." Myla had expected these sort of questions and more, but there was the matter of pressure to make him sound as likable as she felt he was. "He left flowers at my work for a few weeks, and one of them had a card that said to meet him at a restaurant."

"That's some romantic shit." Jen nodded approvingly. "Continue – how serious is this?"

"Kind of serious, I guess? He seems in it to win it – talking about moving in and stuff like that." She honestly hadn't thought that offer would still be available to her, but dinner with Oswald last week had confirmed that he still very much wanted Myla to get comfortable with the idea "in the very near future".

"That's pretty quick."

"I know, right?" Myla had hardly ever made it to a point where she learned a guy's middle name, much less made the step of moving in with someone who wasn't family.

"But, I mean, how nice is his apartment though?"

"Oh, he doesn't have an apartment." Myla snorted, recalling the Oscar Wilde fantasy dream house she had spent the night in. "He has this ridiculous house over Graham Bridge. It has half a dozen fireplaces and a chicken coup – it's ridiculous."

Jen was not impressed by her choice of description "Fireplaces and chickens. I'm sure there are more interesting things there, but okay."

Myla shrugged. "I've never known anyone who owned chickens before, so sue me."

"Okay then." Jen stole the last slice, like the stone cold bitch she was. "So he's rich, I take it?"

"I mean, you would have to be, to live in a place like that."

Jen started chewing her food more slowly, in part to savor it, but mostly to think of more things to ask. "So, do I get a name? What does he even look like?"

"Let's keep it as Oz. It's what I've been calling him anyway." Myla finally allowed herself to smile. "Um, I guess he's on the shorter side. Black hair, grey eyes – extremely well dressed – and paler than you, if you can believe it." Myla nibbled on her crust. "I think he was a smoker."

"Bad teeth?"

"Not bad, but a little yellow. He never smells or tastes like smoke, but I've always wondered." Now was time to drop the big one. "He's also older."

"How much older?" Jen asked.

"Like, ten years?" Give or take – Myla had still been too embarrassed to ask for sure, and it never seemed to come up. She figured he had to have a birthday at some point.

"Hm, older than I would go, but early thirties isn't bad." Jen assured her. "Not like he's some geezer."

"Yeah...and I really like him. He's so polite, and interesting, and he wears these suits all the time." Oh God, those suits. Myla couldn't believe how long she had lived while being so unappreciative of suits.

"Wow, fancy." Her friend agreed. "So the relationship is good? There's nothing wrong with him? He treats you nice?"

Myla took a moment to think. "I mean, his mom didn't seem to like me when I met her, but he's wonderful."

"Is it even possible to get along with your boyfriend's mother?" Jen laughed, tossing the empty pizza box towards the door. "How the sex, though?"

Myla choked on her soda. That was a rather unexpected change of topic, but that was how Jen played things.

"I see." Jen shot Myla a wicked grin. "Haven't gone there yet, huh?"

"No." Myla coughed out.

"I just figured that with all this secrecy you would definitely be boning this guy." The soda cans she threw near the pizza box clattered loudly on the tile. "Have you at least talked? Filled him in on your nonexistent sexual past?"

"For what?"

"I mean, it's just kind of the thing to do. Plus, remember what happened with Dad Jokes?"

Dad Jokes was the "covert" nickname given to the man Myla had crushed on and nearly slept with when she was fresh out of high school. It fit because he wore khaki's and sweater-vests, prattled on trivia no one asked for, and was generally very awkward in the way he attempted to relate to them, even though he really wasn't much older than them at all. A very sweet, safe choice – or so she had thought, anyway. "This isn't at all like the Dad Jokes situation and you know it."

Jen stood up and stretched a little, figuring they could start unpacking again while they talked. "I'm just saying, you moped forever on how you should've said something to Dad Jokes, so maybe this guy Oz should know. Or maybe not. Wait until I meet him and decide if he's worthy of taking your 'flower'." She opened a small, unmarked box, expecting to see some objects out of her friend's extensive collection of teacups and knickknacks. "What the fuck, Jazz..." She mumbled. "Who the fuck keeps loose files in a box?"

"She would." Myla rolled her eyes, standing up with the intention to take the box to Jasmine's room.

"These look pretty important – I think is the loan contract she took out for her folks place." Even though the papers lacked the name of bank, that's definitely what they appeared to be. "Oswald Cobblepot." Jen snorted. "What a banker name...Sounds kind of familiar though."

Myla's ears pricked up at the sound of his name, and she froze. Jasmine had gotten her loan from Oswald? Why didn't he tell her? Jen handed her the papers, not noticing the sudden tension. "You should put these someplace safer."

She knew it was wrong – a total invasion of privacy and all that – but curiosity far outweighed any decency Jasmine was owed. Everything seemed pretty standard through the first few pages, and Myla very nearly put the whole thing down. Almost, until she saw her name. Myla Ophelia Kozak. Did Jasmine put her down as a reference or cosigner? Is that how she got it? She flipped ahead a couple pages more, and was floored by what she found. This contract acknowledged that Oswald and Myla were dating. Jasmine knew? For how long? Why hadn't she said anything? Further in was a clear set of rules for their dating life, down to a curfew. A curfew. Like a teenager. Myla was going to be sick.

"Hey, Jen?" Her words were accompanied by a sort of out of body feeling, like she was running on autopilot again. "I think you should go."

Jen looked around, confused. They had barely even gotten started. "Should I come back in a few hours, then?"

"I'll just...I'll call you tomorrow okay?"

"Is everything alright?" Jen asked slowly.

"I'm gonna be strait with you Jen: it's not." Myla's voice was sharp and blunt – two characteristics no one would ever think to apply to her. "You shouldn't be here when Jasmine gets back."

Jen actually seemed scared, and Myla wondered what sort expression she had that would make Jen want to leave so quickly and without further convincing. In any case, once she was alone, Myla sat back down on the couch to go through the contract page by page, trying to make sense of everything. It was, without a doubt, the strangest thing she had expected to encounter, but there was some comfort in the late November date accompanying their signatures. At least this contract hadn't been specifically made with her romantic life in mind. Really, it all appeared very blackmail-ish, coming from Jasmine's end - "in return for discretion". Myla would expected Jasmine to put a sledgehammer through the relationship when she found out, over using that knowledge to get money and a fancy new job, but apparently that had been a wrong assumption.

Once she was through, Myla began putting what few boxes of her own she had bothered to bring up that day back into her car, remembering how there "hadn't been room" for her things in the moving truck. Jasmine's selfishness had always been a defining trait of hers, but Myla had always been able to look past it. Until now.

Another hour or so passed after that. Clearly Jasmine had been hoping to waste as much of the day as possible before "helping", but soon enough, Myla heard the key in the door, steeling herself as her cousin entered what was supposed to be their new home.

"Wow, you guys barely made a dent in this." Jasmine commented, setting her things down on the counter. "Where's Jen?"

"I asked her to come back later." Myla said, calmly as she could manage. It was hard to control herself like that, while she was feeling more betrayed and angry than she ever had in her life.

Jasmine didn't catch on to anything, and casually walked into the living room to join her on the couch. "It's fine if you're tired – we'll get at it tomorrow." She did notice when Myla wouldn't look at her. Another second and she realized that her cousin's gaze was focused on something else. And then Jasmine noticed the contract on the coffee table. "Oh, fuck me..."

"Next time, I would invest in a file box, instead of a cardboard one."

"Myla..." Jasmine sighed, almost seeming more annoyed that she had been caught, instead of embarrassed or ashamed like Myla had wanted her to be. "You don't understand -"

This was off to a poor start, not that Myla had expected otherwise. "Don't understand?" Myla interrupted, incredulous. "You made a contract about my dating life. Initiated by YOU, for MONEY."

"Hey, hey – this could have all been avoided, you know." Jasmine fired back defensively. "What the fuck did I tell you about my boss? Not to even speak to him, right? And somehow you're dating him?"

"Don't." Myla hissed. "You are not turning this on me."

"Whatever." Jasmine tossed her hair over her shoulder. "You know what? I'm glad you found out about this."

Myla let out a snort. This would be good. "Oh?"

"Well, yeah – you see that this isn't the type of man you should be with, right?"

"How, exactly?"

"Um, hello?" Jasmine looked at her cousin like she was mental. "Half this contract is his, Myla."

Did Jasmine thing she was an idiot? Myla was the one who taught her about contracts – when she was learning about them in order to get her parents a damn house. All the stipulations involving her were clearly not for her benefit. Why would Oswald want her to have a curfew? To not be able to spend the night with her unless there was a "weather exception"?

"Come one now. You can't tell me this paper isn't fucked up."

Myla hit pause for a moment. She didn't want to explode, not yet. "You want to know what's messed up?" She asked. "How angry I was at you. After Christmas, when you gave Live and Roy the keys, I was so mad, and jealous. You stole my idea, you stole my thunder – I don't want to hear your excuses for not including me, Jasmine -" she said harshly, when Jasmine started to open her mouth. "I was so angry at you, I couldn't speak. I just laid in the apartment, in the dark, trying to process it. I was still working through it today. I kept trying to tell myself that I was being ridiculous – it shouldn't have been about who gets credit. I shouldn't have wanted to do it just to hear them say that raising me wasn't waste of time. Setting up the people who took care of me was just the right thing to do, and now they're taken care of.

But," Myla bit her tongue for a moment, "now I have come to find, that not only did you rob me of what had become my life's goal – you used my relationship to take it from me. And gave it 'rules' to boot."

"Those were to protect you." Jasmine interjected, as if the rest of Myla's speech hadn't mattered.

"From what?" Myla was yelling – actually yelling – now. She was beyond sick of this, of Jasmine inability to take responsibility for anything.

"From him." Jasmine yelled back. "Tell me you've noticed that something isn't right about this man?"

"Can't say I have." Myla shot back. "He's nicer than any skeez you've bagged."

"Penguin is an evil person." Jasmine continued over the screeching. "I'm sure he hasn't let you see that rotten side of him, but if you stick around I promise you will."

"Why should I believe you? You sold me."

"Yeah, well," Jasmine threw up her hands. "if I sold you, he bought you – that's just as bad."

"Except it's really not. You see, I was already dating him, and the money was to leave us alone. According to this," Myla slammed her hand down on the contract so hard her palm tingled, "I can break up with Oswald any time as long as you don't force me to. Being able to leave someone isn't really the same as being 'owned' by them, wouldn't you say?" Myla spat. "And, honestly Jasmine, if you really think he's that awful – why'd you take the risk? I'm your family, you say I'm your sister." Her voice got a little sad. "If you thought he was bad and might hurt me, you wouldn't have done this. And if this really was his offer, you should have told him to fuck off and you should have left."

Jasmine's jaw dropped, her complexion paling considerably when she heard the expletive leaving her cousin's mouth. Myla never cursed. Never.

And then Myla walked to the door, leaving Jasmine stunned.

"Where are you going?" Jasmine managed to ask.

"This...is not going to work out." Myla said stiffly, not bothering to turn. "I can't even look at you."

Taking her keys from the hook, Myla unclasped the apartment key, tossing it. She heard it land with a dull thud onto the carpet as she walked out the door.