1. Lorelei

1

LORELEI

" I 'm sorry, Lorelei, but we have reason to believe you've been stealing from the company. We have no choice but to let you go."

My heart stops and my blood turns to ice, my entire body freezing as I stare at my boss in disbelief.

I've felt fear before in my life, but this moment is right up there with the worst.

I'm not a thief.

Not even close.

I've never…

Okay, that's a lie. There have been times in my past where I've made bad decisions. But only because there was no other choice.

My childhood…it wasn't like my best friend's or of any of the people in my life now.

It was hard. Brutal at times.

Times when we didn't have money or food, and never any heating or hot water.

Sometimes things were so desperate there was only one way of getting the things we needed.

But that was then. I left that life behind when I got accepted into my place at college, when I left my hometown and started over.

I haven't worked this damn hard to throw it all away by stealing from this insufferable jerk.

"S-Stealing?" I stutter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

"Yes. Stealing. From right under our noses."

"I haven't. I wouldn't. I?—"

"I'm sure it goes without saying that your employment here has been terminated with immediate effect," he says cooly and calmly. As if this isn't affecting his life in any way.

But then, I guess it's not.

He's hated me from the first day I started here. He's probably silently celebrating that he's finally found what he believes is a concrete reason to get rid of me.

"You can't do this. You don't have any evidence."

His brow lifts as amusement and accomplishment glitter in his dark, calculating eyes.

"I'm willing to hand what I do have over to the authorities if I need to," he warns.

"Or?" I ask, anger beginning to overtake the disbelief.

"Or you can leave and put your time here behind you."

Sounds awfully convenient.

I don't love my job.

In fact, I fucking hate it. But that's not the point.

I need it. I need it and the money I earn more than anyone here could understand.

He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest as if he's already won.

I'd love to fight him on this, but I can't afford it. The smug asshole knows it too.

I can't risk a cent of the money I've got in my bank account, even more so now that I'm unlikely to get any more out of this place.

I've given it my all for two years. Sure, it's far from my dream job. It's not the reason I came to Chicago, but I always hoped it would be a good steppingstone to get where I really want to be.

I close my eyes for a beat and one building, one company, comes to mind.

I was in my junior year in high school when I came across a job advertisement for a well-known hospitality company. I immediately Googled them, and right there and then, I promised myself that I'd do whatever it took to get there.

I was desperate to live in a cool city. To have a fancy job. To commute, to live in a flashy apartment. To spend my evenings out with friends and party as hard as I worked.

The excitement I felt when I received my college acceptance letter was beyond ridiculous. I was giddy in a way I'd never felt before.

It was my first step to the life I'd been dreaming of.

Girls like me who come from families like mine don't get the opportunity to go to college. They don't get to leave their hometown, let alone get a chance to embark on their dream life and career.

I told myself that I was one of the lucky ones. But really, it was nothing but hard work and dogged determination.

Dragging my eyes open, I focus on my boss. My ex-boss.

"You're making a mistake," I warn.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

With my head held high, I turn my back on him, desperately trying to ignore my rising emotions.

I need to hang onto the anger. If I'm focused on how best to hurt him, then I'm less likely to crumble into body-trembling sobs.

I've experienced my fair share of them recently, and my asshole of a boss isn't worthy of them.

Nor was the first jerk who caused them, but here we fucking are.

The office is suspiciously empty as I make my way back to my desk with my eyes burning and my nose itching with my need to cry.

Fighting the lump that's growing faster than I can control in my throat, I gather up the few things I care about on my desk and place them in my purse.

I've got two photos of me and Tate. One at graduation and another on a holiday last summer. The sight of my best friend makes my need to cry even more insistent. I grab the plant she bought me for my first day that I've somehow managed to keep alive, and then leave everything else.

This place was never my home. It was just a stopgap until I found something better.

Unfortunately, that something better hasn't made itself known.

It gets even harder to contain my frustration when the warm autumn air hits my face.

Sucking in a deep breath, I look up to the sky and silently beg my eyes to contain the tears.

Wait until you get home.

Woman up. You're stronger than this.

You're better than this.

I take three steps away from the office I never want to look at again when my watch buzzes with a notification.

I almost ignore it. I'm too lost in my own misery to focus on anything someone might have sent me. Assuming it's not just a spam email, of course.

Or worse… him .

My heart knots as the face of the man I once believed was the one, fills my mind.

Hopeful now, that he's finally got the message to leave me alone, I shift everything in my arms and dig my phone from the bottom of my purse, praying it's someone with some good news. Hell knows I could use a little positivity in my life right now.

And to think I assumed that finding out my loyal and doting boyfriend was actually living a double life, was as low as things were going to get for me…

How fucking delusional I was.

Hendrix: I failed.

"Fuck," I breathe. So much for some good fucking news.

Lori: I'm sorry, bud.

I stare at my typed message, my thumb hovering over the send button, wishing I could come up with something a little more eloquent and supportive.

He's worked so damn hard. He deserves more than a fucking fail.

But then, I should know better than most that we don't always get what we deserve.

Shaking my head, I delete the message. He'll read those words as pity, and he doesn't need that right now.

Lori: I'm so fucking proud of you, bud. You should be proud of yourself too. You worked your ass off. Screw the result. It's a bullshit letter on a piece of paper.

I hit send and the second it shows as delivered, I second-guess it.

Maybe I should have sent the first one.

A scream threatens to erupt as my frustration begins to get the better of me.

Hendrix: I know. I do. I just thought that this time…

A pained sigh spills from my lips as I grip my cell tighter and continue toward the bus stop.

Lori: How was the rest of your day?

Hendrix: Meh. It was fine.

I can't help but chuckle. I can practically hear his unamused grunting. He sounds exactly the same whenever I ask him about school.

Lori: Do I risk asking about Wilder?

Hendrix and Wilder are my younger half-brothers.

They are the only two good things about my hometown.

Leaving them behind ripped me in two when I embarked on college. But their lives back then were somewhat stable.

Wish I could say the same for now.

If I had my way, I'd move them both across the country to live with me.

But it would be selfish to do so.

They both have lives in California. School. Friends. Our mom…if she can even be called that.

He laughs at my message.

Hendrix: Last time I saw him, he was molesting a cheerleader.

Lori: Of course he was.

Whereas Hendrix struggles with school and would prefer to be locked away in his room playing video games, Wilder is the captain of the football team, the boy all the girls want to date, and the kind of student who makes everything look easy. It drives Hendrix to distraction, because no matter how hard he works, he's always at the bottom of the class, fighting to survive and not be held back.

For identical twins, they couldn't be any more different.

Hendrix: Pretty sure he's already blown through that massive box of condoms you bought him…

I groan loudly as I stand in line at the bus stop.

Lori: Really, Rix? Really?

The need to pull up my chat with Wilder and chastise him for his behavior burns through me. But it would make me a massive fucking hypocrite, something I try to never, ever be when it comes to my little brothers.

I remember all too well what it was like to be seventeen at their high school.

I remember the peer pressure, the need to fit in, to be grown up beyond your years.

Hell, the three of us have more than enough experience of being older than our years, thanks to the shit we were born into.

The boys had it better than me. At least their father hung around and actually attempted to bring them up.

I still have no fucking idea who my sperm donor was beyond the fact he was of a different ethnicity from my mom. My darker skin tone and coarse, curly hair is proof enough.

Hendrix: You know he loves the game…

Lori: So long as he doesn't make us an aunty and uncle too soon.

Lori: What about you? How's it going with Noelle?

I smile to myself as I think about my geeky little brother's best friend. I'm pretty sure he's been in love with her since the first time he saw her, not that he was—is—aware of that, of course.

Hendrix: Lorelei

My smile grows as I hear his voice in my ear as if he's standing behind me.

Lori: What? I'm just asking…

Hendrix: She's great, thanks.

"Oh fuck," I screech when the bus pulls up beside me, hitting a puddle from an earlier rain shower and soaking my feet.

Glancing around, I notice that everyone around me moved out of the firing line.

It's fine. Totally fine. Everything is fucking fine.

Closing down our chat for now, I walk toward the bus doors with my head held high.

Hendrix has made me feel a little better, but no amount of banter with my little brother is going to fix the shitshow that is my life right now.

I find myself a seat and lower my bags on the aisle side, allowing me to sit beside the window and ensure I won't be subjected to an unwanted neighbor.

Ignoring everyone else around me, I stare out of the window, my eyes locked on the building I've spent at least five days a week inside for the past couple of years.

What a fucking waste of my life that was.

The bus jolts forward and I lose myself in the passing buildings with my arms wrapped tightly around my waist as if they'll hold everything together.

Fat chance of that. Everything is crumbling around my feet faster than I can control.

By the time I let myself into my apartment building, every ounce of adrenaline has seeped out of me.

I just about manage to hold it together until I push the key into the lock. Then all hell breaks loose.

The tears that have been burning my eyes since the moment my boss accused me of stealing finally spill free.

By the time I kick the door closed behind me, loud, ugly sobs are erupting from my throat.

Dumping my stuff in the entryway, I all but run toward my bed and throw myself on it as I finally succumb to my emotions.

Just two weeks ago, I thought I had everything together.

I had an amazing boyfriend that I could see a real future with. I had a job that I…endured. But most importantly, I had hope.

Right now, I have nothing.

I can no longer even come home to my friend. Those times of us pulling out a bottle of tequila and drowning our bad days in margaritas are long over.

That thought only makes me cry harder.

I spent a lot of my former years being lonely. I thought I'd experienced the last of it. But right now, all I feel is alone and hopeless.