Chapter 2

My upstairs neighbors are going at it again. Screaming and yelling, calling each other horrible names. I get my noise cancelling headphones out and have a seat in front of my laptop, trying to concentrate on the design job I have to finish before eight in the morning. Glancing over at the clock in the upper right hand corner of my laptop, I groan.

I"m stressing.

My creativity has taken a huge hit in the last few months.

Where things had once been super easy to come to me, I was awake at night thinking of all of the designs I could make. I"m struggling now to think of anything. A video message request is coming in from Facebook Messenger. Typically, I would ignore it to finish my work, but it"s my best friend, Cammie.

Using the Bluetooth option on my headphones, I connect. "Hey..."

"Ohhh you have the headphones on. Does that mean your neighbors are arguing again?"

"Yes." I sigh heavily. "I"ve got to get out of here, and I was on my way to it until I hit this rough skid."

She sing-songs. "You know that Wife for Hire agency is looking for women. They always are."

"Just because you found your happily ever after from a matchmaker, doesn"t mean I"m going to." I remind her, jerking when a loud noise comes from upstairs.

"It"s got to be annoying living where you are, when there is a chance you could move. All you have to do is do the questionnaire, ya know, see if there"s anyone you would match with."

She"s getting on my fucking nerves. "You know I don"t trust people the way you do."

"It"s not about trust, Court. It"s about being able to live. You haven"t been able to do that for a couple of years now, have you?"

I hate that she knows me so well. "I haven"t. Fuck. Okay, I"ll do it. There"s nothing really holding me here anyway." I"d moved into this apartment with my ex-boyfriend. He was "the one" in a long line of men who I"d thought would be "the one". Blame it on a mother who"d gone from man to man, telling me to call each one of them dad, when I didn"t even know who my real one was.

"Not even your mom?" She quirks her eyebrows up.

"I haven"t talked to her in a year, Cammie. I didn"t tell you because I know how you feel about people who don"t speak to their parents."

"Oh my God, Court. You actually went no-contact?"

I"d been talking about it for years, but after a situation that happened - actually the one that started this whole period of creative drought for me - I did it. "Yeah, and I"m struggling, all the way around."

"I"m so sorry. What can I do?"

This is why I love her, although she might not agree with my choices, the first words out of her mouth are typically wondering what she can do to help me. "Nothing, I just have to make some decisions and I need to do it soon. I can"t keep going in this purgatory."

"So, what are you going to do?"

I know what I"m going to do and I don"t want to. It feels as if I"m quitting on myself. Giving up on all the bright ideas I had. They"d shined like those shiny baubles that attract crows, but now everything is dark and heavy, dull with the tarnish of too much disappointment. "I"m going to meet with Miss May, and find out if I"m a match for a man who might have me. I honestly don"t have any other choice right now. My lease is over in a month and a half. There"s no way I"ll be able to stretch my savings any further than that, and right now, my creativity isn"t here. I need to get as far away from this city as I can. With any luck I might be closer to you."

She gives me a sad smile. "I hope so. I"ve missed having you in my life less than a three days" drive away."

When Cammie met her happily ever after, she moved two states over, and I"ve only seen her once since she got married. She exchanged city life for the quiet of the country, and after things have gone for me, I have to admit I"m jealous. "I hope so too. I"d love to hug you right now."

"So, what"s your plan?" She asks, pulling her legs up under her chin, and resting it on her knee. "You need a plan. It"ll help you feel as if you"re in charge."

I want to roll my eyes. We"re never in charge of our destiny and if anyone should know that, it"s her. "I"m going to schedule a Zoom with Miss May, and then I"m going to weigh my options. I don"t think I can stay here." I look around the apartment. I"ve sold everything I can and it"s starting to look bare, which is feeding into the desperation and depression I"m beginning to feel. "There are too many memories, too many lost hopes and dreams. I need something fresh. The only problem is I don"t have any money to start over at this point, so maybe I"ll buy a tent and a sleeping bag."

She laughs, but I"m being honest. "You know you can always come stay with me if you need to."

I don"t tell her I"d need the gas money for that. Times are getting desperate over here. "I know, and I appreciate that." The despair is starting to sink in, and I know I will never ask her to help me. I"ve been on my own for longer than most, and I"ve always made it work some how.

"I gotta go. Jameson and I are going out for dinner with friends. If you need me, you know where to find me. If you need help with your info for Miss May, let me know."

"I will, have so much fun." I paste on a happy smile I don"t feel.

When we disconnect the call, I look around, wanting nothing more than to cry. But crying has gotten me nowhere in the past. Instead, I square my shoulders and head toward the bathroom. If I"m going to have an interview with Miss May, I"m going to look amazing. I have to look like I"m capable of getting a man, unlike the absolute mess I am right now.

Glancing at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, I groan. This is going to take more work than I originally thought. I haven"t gotten my hair done in almost a year. I"ve not had the inclination, time, or money. "How am I going to hide these roots?" I snap my fingers. "I can curl it and put it half way up."

Going over to my hair tools, I grab the curling wand and plug it up. Opening my cabinet door, I get the dry shampoo and spray it liberally so that I"ll be able to have some volume. I"m adept at curling my hair, and I"m done within fifteen minutes. Then I go about doing my makeup. I"m torn between if I want to go heavy or not. I don"t want to look too old, but I also don"t want to look as young as I actually am. Even though I"m twenty-three, I look like a teenager, and it"s gotten me into situations more time than I care to count.

When I"m done, I take a selfie and send it to Cammie. "Does this pass? Do you think she"ll be able to match me?"

I wait for what feels like a year for the text message to come across. "You look hot. That"s exactly how you need to look to get her to match you. Good luck, friend."

"Thanks. I"m gonna need it."

Squaring my shoulders, I have a seat in front of my laptop and wait for the call to connect so I can meet Miss May.