29
I had nowhere to go. My home was burned, my job was ruined, and the man I loved rejected me. I took the cab to Emmett's house, but I had no idea what to say. I had nothing to offer Masen. I had made such a mess of my life that Emmett was a better option to parent him.
I didn't bother taking one last look. It would be too hard to do the right thing if I did. I got back into the cab and asked him to take me past the bank. I withdrew all my savings and headed to the bus station. I got on the first bus leaving Seattle. It was on its way to Chicago. It sounded like a great place to disappear. I pulled my hoodie over my head and cried softly for the first few hours. I should have remained dead. I only managed to make things more confusing for Masen.
I used to wonder how people could walk away from their lives, or if it was even possible to go somewhere else and start over again. The memories wouldn't fade so I had to do something to help them along. I got a job in a museum gift shop. It was minimal pay again, but the busy crowds kept me from thinking about my life.
I would take a bus to the wrong side of the city and head into my basement apartment I rented from a polish woman who spoke little English. I would make a meager dinner and then drink something strong to help me sleep. It wasn't living, it was only existing.
I never spoke to anyone in the lunch room. I would take my sack lunch and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the corner of the room. People whispered about me, but nobody tried to be my friend.
One day I got on the bus and a man in his late twenties sat across from me. He had long hair pulled into a ponytail and he smiled when I glanced at him. I quickly looked away and he chuckled. "If you ignore me it will only pique my interest," he said loudly.
I looked back at him and he held up his dirty hands. "I'm an artist," he announced. "You know how curious we can be."
I scowled at him and said, "I've had my fill of artists."
It only caused him to laugh louder and move into the seat next to me. "This sounds like a great story," he teased.
I turned my head and refused to speak any more so he continued talking. He told me he was from California and sold some of his art locally so he made Chicago his home. He had an apartment he shared with a buddy and a girl, but he wasn't in a relationship with her.
I knew everything about his life by the time the bus pulled up to my corner. I got up and he called out to me, "My name is James, what's yours?"
I raised my hand in the air to flip him off and he laughed loudly again. It put a tiny smile on my face and it felt so good to actually know something about someone else in this huge city. I found myself looking for him the next day on the bus. He got on when it stopped by the art institute and came right to my side.
"Hi," he grinned.
"Hi," I said back, feeling it wasn't something I should be doing.
"Oh my God, you actually speak," he laughed.
I smiled shyly and turned to look out the window. James leaned over to get my attention and said, "And you are?"
I wasn't sure why I gave him the name I was using but I blurted out, "Bree Smith."
"Well, hello Bree Smith. It is nice to meet you."
I only nodded and felt every instinct I had telling me to stay away from this guy. I pulled my sweater tighter to my body and turned my full attention to the window. James sat silently until we got to my stop. I stood and he moved away so I could get out of the seat.
"Have a good night, Bree," he said kindly.
I only nodded and got off the bus and walked quickly to my dingy apartment. I turned on the light which only added a bit of illumination. The place smelled like stale water and I walked to the mirror to look at myself. My hair hung lifeless around me and I was very thin. I didn't waste money on makeup and it made me wonder why James would speak to me at all.
I got into the tub and then thought about Masen. I missed him so much but I couldn't imagine him living in this dark basement. I tried to think of Edward, but it hurt too much so I ducked my head under the water and let my tears mingle with the hot water.
I got out of the tub and put on an oversized t-shirt I got from the thrift store. I climbed into my lumpy bed and tried to sleep, but my heart was hurting too badly and I ended up crying most of the night.
The next morning I couldn't find the strength to go to work so I walked upstairs and asked my landlady if I could use her phone. She sneered at me and said she didn't have a phone. I got dressed and walked to the corner convenience store to call in sick.
I came outside and saw James standing on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. "What are you doing here?" I asked him.
He smiled and said, "I was looking for you."
"Why?" I asked feeling exposed.
He hesitated and then gave me an earnest look before saying, "I think you need a friend Bree, am I wrong?"
"You're wrong," I said and tried to walk away. He grabbed my arm and I instantly pulled away from him. He acted apologetic and took a step away from me.
"Look, Bree I know what it is like to feel it is you against the world. I can help, I honestly can."
I wanted to assure him I was fine and stomp off indignantly. But the truth was I needed a friend, someone to bring a bit of light into my dark life. I no longer trusted myself to choose the right people to bring into my life. I was lost, completely lost.
My eyes filled with tears and he motioned to the bench in front of the store. I walked over and sat down. James offered me a cigarette but I shook my head. He sat next to me and patted my back for a moment.
"I'm just adjusting to a new life," I finally admitted.
"A life of your choice?" he asked.
"Yeah, kind of," I answered. I ran on my own, but Edward had pushed me out of his life and I couldn't go on without him.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'm twenty five, but I feel so much older," I admitted, because life had aged me quickly.
"Well Bree, I was like you once. I was getting up every day and walking like a zombie through my life. I finally realized this is the only shot I get. Sure I screwed up, but I have the life I deserve. I decided to reach for the stars. I entered art school and I'm doing exactly what I want to do. I love my life now."
I looked at his enthusiastic face and said, "I can't have what I want. It isn't possible."
"Then find something else you want more. You may think there isn't anything out there for you, but there is, I promise."
I tried to remember a time before I met Edward and before I gave birth to Masen. I searched my memories for anything I wanted before that time. It was like my life started the day I set eyes on Edward, nothing existed before him.
"I hate my job," I said honestly.
"There you go," James said loudly. "So what is it you do?"
"I work in a museum gift shop," I said with embarrassment. "I have a degree in English and I have a job for a sixteen year old."
"See," he said with a nudge, "Today is your lucky day. I have a connection to get you a better job."
I didn't get too excited because I still didn't trust this stranger. I sighed and he pulled out a card and wrote a number on it. "Call this man and tell him James White gave you his number."
I looked at the card and nodded, without telling him I didn't have a phone. He looked at his watch and then tossed his cigarette butt. "I've got to go. Good luck Bree. I'll see you later."
I watched him jog to the bus stop and then looked down at the card again. I decided it couldn't hurt so I went back into the store and asked to use the phone again. I called and asked for Laurent. I told him James gave me his number and he instantly agreed to meet with me. I noticed his French accent and wondered if I had anything decent to wear.
He gave me an address and told me my cab would be paid for. I gave him my address hesitantly and he said I would be picked up in an hour. I rushed back down the street and tried to put together anything that would look half way decent.
I settled on a skirt and blouse. I didn't have any makeup but I brushed out my hair and used spray to make it big and sexy. I put on my only pair of heels and waited for the cab to arrive. It drove me deep into the city and pulled into an apartment complex. "Go to the penthouse," the driver told me.
I went into the building and got into the elevator. I could see my reflection in the metal and practiced my smile. It had been weeks since I smiled and it looked a bit odd. The elevator stopped and the door opened to a large space with beautiful furnishings. A red haired woman sat at a glass desk and she smiled and welcomed me into the room.
"I'm here to see Laurent," I said nervously.
She nodded and asked me to have a seat. She stood and went into the office and shut the door. Her dress was expensive and her makeup was flawless. I felt like a mess and regretted coming. The woman returned and said, "Laurent will see you now. I'm Victoria by the way."
"Hi, I'm Bree," I said and followed her into the room.
I saw a large muscular black man sitting behind a desk. He looked me up and down and I could see the disappointment on his face. I tugged on my skirt and said, "I'm sorry, but my house burned down and I don't have any clothes."
He stood and came around the desk to shake my hand. "You look just fine," he lied.
I sat in a leather chair and he returned to his desk. "Did James tell you what company I run?" he asked.
I shook my head, a bit embarrassed by the admission. "I have a degree in English; he said he had a contact."
The man chuckled and then said, "I run an event business. I basically plan parties for city dignitaries and local celebrities."
"I don't understand how I would fit in," I said reluctantly. "I've planned art showings and wine tests but nothing more."
"You are an educated woman; people enjoy talking to interesting people at parties. You would be a plant, someone who works the room and makes sure people are having a good time."
I looked at my skirt and then back at Laurent. He knew what I was thinking and said, "We would provide the wardrobe with full hair and makeup. You would work on commission. The more you mingle the more you would make. Most hostesses make over five hundred a party."
My eyes grew wide and I asked, "So, how many parties do you have each month?"
He handed me a calendar showing parties booked for almost every night. I couldn't imagine making that much money and remembered my father telling me if something sounded too good, it usually was.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
Laurent laughed and nodded his head. "It sounds like you'll make a lot of money for nothing, right? But it is not as easy as it sounds. I don't want people who can't keep the party lively. You spend a lot of time going from person to person trying to make them feel like the most important person in the room. It is exhausting."
His choice of word shocked me. I knew what it felt like to be exhausted by someone. Maybe I was right for this job after all.
