Chapter 3 - Adley

I tried not to let the door slam as I walked into the bodega, using my key to unlock the door. We were closed today since I hadn't been there to help, and the catch twenty-two of that situation was not lost on me. Can't make money whether I'm here or not, I guess .

The place was quiet, and I roamed my eyes over the dozens of shelves lined up evenly throughout the open space. Cereal, canned goods, dishes, pots and pans, imported items from Ireland that you couldn't get anywhere else—they were all there, silently waiting for someone to buy them.

As I walked to the back, I debated whether I wanted to go up the stairs. It was late in the afternoon, so it wasn't like I was going to wake anyone. But I'd still see them, and I wasn't sure if I wanted that right now.

"Ugh," I sighed. "All day. For nothing."

Instead of gracing my folks with my less-than-stellar presence, I went to the little area at the back of the store where my mom liked to do tea leaf readings for the poor customers she goaded into it. Mom would talk about how the fairies would help her find the answer in the leaves and deliver their messages to the person about love, life, and money.

A small laugh melted out of me as I sat down in the chair, looking at the tea set that was set up for tomorrow.

"What are we going to do, Mom?"

As I hung my head in my hands, I noticed the thin envelope on the table. It was already cut open, and when I turned it over to see who it was from, I saw the familiar name of the medical center Mom went to for her steroid injections.

"Dammit." I pulled out the bill for her latest treatment. "Past due. Of course."

The letter spoke about sending the bill to collections like the two before it, and it took everything in me not to crush the damn thing in my grip. Mom's fibromyalgia was getting worse and worse. She could barely stand, and those injections were the only thing keeping her from being completely immobile in her right hand—and she still couldn't use it properly even with them.

I got up. Mom kept a store of alcohol that not even Dad knew about in the bottom section of the sideboard against the wall. I pulled out the small bottle of whiskey and brought it back to the table, pouring it into the teacup.

Filling it to the brim, I set the bottle down before knocking back the drink. I coughed hard at the sharp taste.

"Jesus, Mom, what is this?"

I snatched the bottle again and looked at the label a bit closer. Some nothing brand with a percentage high enough to clean rust. She didn't need to worry about Dad drinking it, that was for sure. He had a particular taste when it came to whiskey, and that was not it.

Still…

Downing the rest of the alcohol, I winced. "Waste not."

The warmth of the shitty whiskey burned the whole way down, and I reached for my braid, going for the hair tie at the end and unwinding it from around the bottom. When it was off, I began to loosen my hair from the French braid, shaking my head as the tension from the style disappeared.

It had started all neat and orderly, but like most things in my life, it didn't stay that way. The comforting feeling of my hair tumbling around my shoulders eased some of the stress, and I fanned out the waves around me. Mom had always been so impressed with how fast my hair grew, and I'd learned to love it—the length, the color—because she loved it.

They're really getting older, and I'm supposed to be taking care of them—not the other way around.

My eyes stung, and I knew I was going to have to go back upstairs at some point. I tortured myself with another quick shot of whiskey before standing up and making my way up the creaky old staircase to the rooms on the second floor.

Mom was peeling potatoes at the little kitchen table, and the twins were washing and drying the dishes in the sink. When the little bottle of rice jingled on the doorknob, they all looked up.

"Hey, honey. You were gone for a while. Get over here. I need your help with dinner."

I smiled, kissing Mom on the head as I sat down with her at the table and started helping her peel.

Molly looked over at me with her hands draped in a towel as she dried a plate. "Any luck?"

I shook my head. Our mother was unaware of what I'd been doing, under the impression that I was looking at places for the twins to work over the summer.

"No, sorry. But it's fine. You're both starting school in the fall, so it was only going to be for a few months anyway."

Frowning, Molly went back to the dish. She was only fifteen, and I didn't want her to be burdened with the shop. I'd been doing it for years; that was my job, and I would keep her and Ryan out of it if it were the last thing I ever did.

"Dinner's beef and potatoes, so I need you to grab the flour down for me, Ryan."

My brother nodded, humming over his shoulder at Mom. "I'll get right on it when my hands aren't literally in a sink full of water, Ma."

She smirked, and I thought my chest might actually crack in half right then and there.

"Umm, I'm going to change, Mom. I need to get out of these shoes."

With a nod, my mother just kept peeling. "Sure, sure."

I walked back to the far end of our little apartment and up the tiny set of stairs that went to the attic storage. When the twins were born, I'd given up my room, and Dad and I refinished the attic to be my new bedroom.

The stairs were narrow and steep, and even my tiny five-foot-nothing frame could easily bump my head into the ceiling above me.

Opening the door, I went inside, straight to my twin bed, and sat down. I pulled off the boots because I really did want out of them, and then the flannel was next, getting tossed into the hamper in my closet. The tank was good enough, but with the oven on the house was a damn furnace, so I decided to switch to shorts.

As I pulled off the skin-tight fabric of the leggings, Ivan's black card popped out of the pocket and fell to the floor. The thick, seemingly innocuous bit of plastic hit the rug by my bed with a gentle thump, and I stared down at it, remembering what he'd said.

A deal. I help your family pay for the past due rent and bring in some new business in the form of my family.

The temptation, like being presented with an apple in hell, made my damn mouth water. I didn't want to say yes. I didn't. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. Because we really were running out of options. I couldn't expect my mother to keep this up, and Dad was out on a delivery right now on that damn scooter he's too old to ride.

It was insane and unsustainable.

Hell, the twins wanted to go to college down the line, and I wanted to help them. They'd researched a few grants, but it wasn't enough to cover out-of-state housing. They were so smart, too. Molly wanted to go for her teaching degree to help special needs students, and Ryan wanted to study computer science. He had developed a real passion for it, even though we didn't have an electronic younger than a decade anywhere in the house.

Was I keeping their exceptional skills from the world by not accepting Ivan's offer?

The only things I was good at were running the store and painting. It wasn't like the world lost anything in my absence, and it wouldn't cause a massive upheaval in anyone's life if I weren't here.

If my folks had enough money to keep the bodega open and not work it, they could find a different kid to work behind the counter. There were plenty in our neighborhood looking to make a bit of money. They didn't need me in particular, so if I was gone…

"Okay, no. You still have the announcement tomorrow to see if we can get that city business funding. Wait until then."

I picked the card up from the ground, leaning it against the mirror on my dresser, and went back to my closet to look for the shorts I wanted. I had a few pairs I actually liked, and this time, I was going for the most comfortable.

The deep gray fabric poked up from inside the hamper of clean laundry, and I pulled them out, pulling the cut-off sweatpants up my legs. Mom needed me to get going on those potatoes, and Dad would likely be back soon, so I hurried downstairs to help with dinner.

It was the least that I could do.

***

It had been two days since I ran into a mobster named Ivan in a bar. During those two days, I heard back from the city stating that we wouldn't receive that grant because we didn't meet the requirements for a proper dining establishment. There was a tiny area where people could eat, and we served fresh food items, but apparently, that wasn't enough because we were primarily a grocer.

To top it off, yesterday, my mother's hands were in so much pain that she'd lost grip strength while holding a pot of boiling water, and it spilled down her leg. She would be in the hospital for the next few days, treating the burns.

Which was a lot of money because our insurance wasn't covering all of it.

Basically, if anything, the forty-eight hours following my fateful interaction at the bar had taught me one thing—we were not getting out of this mess on our own.

And that sucked. I didn't want to accept help from an accredited bank, let alone a person who I was fairly certain was a member of a criminal organization or gang. I didn't have much choice now, though, did I? That was proven in spades by what had happened this weekend.

Sitting on my bed, black card in hand, I sucked in a deep breath, locking eyes with my reflection.

"Okay, so…" In the background, I heard the twins arguing with each other, the nagging urge to do anything to help them go to college swelling higher, "all right."

I looked at the QR code on the card, pulling up my phone to scan it. It took me to a link displaying a number, so I copied it and put it into the keypad. My thumb hesitated over the green call button, but after another deep breath, I pressed down lightly, and the dial tone started up quickly before ringing.

It rang one time.

"Hello, Adley. Nice to hear from you again."

I could hear the smirk in his voice, and I nearly hung up. But I knew why I'd called, how desperate I was.

"I…I want to talk about that deal. Can we meet to discuss things?"

His sexy chuckle rumbled through the phone. "I like a woman that cuts straight to the point. Meet me at the same bar in an hour. Yes?"

Again, I hesitated, but even less so now.

"Yes. I'll be there."

"I'll see you then, sweetheart."

Ivan hung up, and I tossed the phone down on the bed. I wanted to change, maybe take a few things with me. I wasn't sure how fast he would move things along, but considering how he responded to the call, I could assume fast.

In any case, I wasn't telling my folks or the twins where I was going. I hadn't said yes yet, and I…I just couldn't think of what to say. I was essentially becoming a fucking courtesan or escort or something, and regardless of how bad we were doing, I knew my parents wouldn't like it.

"All right, Adley. Time to put on a show."

Because when it came to any job interview—and especially to men—looking the part was the best way to get them in the position you wanted.