Charmed Life

“He said what?!” Hayden exploded. Several people sitting nearby shot us dirty looks. We were in the library, and Hayden was definitely not using his inside voice.

I gave a blonde guy next to me an apologetic look. Shrugging, I repeated my previous statement. “He said I could live with him.”

Hayden just stared at me, dumbfounded. “But why would he say that?”

“Because he saw my shit apartment and felt sorry for me?”

“No… no, that can’t be it…” He looked thoughtful for a second. “That’s just so weird, Lanie.”

I shrugged again as I turned a page in my BioChem textbook. “Maybe he’s the head of an international prostitute ring and he needs girls, for, you know, prostitute stuff.”

Hayden scoffed, laughing. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

I joined in as other students glared at us again, because, really, the fact that James Neal had offered his home to me was just ridiculous. I mean, who goes around offering their homes to girls they barely know? That just doesn’t happen.

“But seriously,” Hayden sobered, “You know you can move in with me. Did you know there was a convenience store break in or something last week?”

“No one died!” I said defensively. A couple next to us gathered up their books, loudly, might I add, and moved to the other side of the library. I lowered my voice. “No one died, and I know. But I’m not interested in being a sitting duck for Rebecca.”

Much like Hayden’s dislike of my and James relationship, Rebecca hated Hayden and mine’s. Even though I had known him a full three years before she ever came into the picture, Rebecca wanted him to have nothing to do with me. She thought I was a gold digging whore who was trying to steal her man.

“It’s not her apartment, it’s mine, and she doesn’t have a say in who I live with.”

“Yeah, but like I said. I don’t want to have to worry about her sneaking into my room and killing me if she ever spends the night with you. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Hayden rolled his eyes. Even though we both knew the real reason for me refusing his offer had little to do with Rebecca, he let it drop. Rebecca wasn’t far off. About the gold digging part, anyway. From an outsider’s point of view, it did look like Hayden was some sort of sugar daddy to me.

I said no, and put my foot down, more often than not. But what could I do if groceries appeared in my fridge? Gather them up and return them?

“You said no, right?” He asked, after we’d been silent for a couple of minutes. “To living with him?”

“Course I did.”

…..

I’d laughed. Quite obnoxiously, actually. Because I couldn’t believe he’d really just said what he’d just said.

“You want me to live with you?” I asked incredulously. Suddenly, he felt too close, and my tiny little apartment, well, felt even tinier. I took a step back, and, pulling down the bed, plopped aggressively onto it as it squeaked in protest to my sudden weight.

James just stood there, his frame almost filling the entire doorway.

“I don’t want you living here,” he answered simply.

“What’s it to you where I live?” I asked, frowning. I could feel myself getting defensive, and it wasn’t pretty when I got defensive.

He frowned right back at me. “I just want to help!” He said indignantly. “You’d feel the same way if the roles were reversed.”

I couldn’t exactly agree with that. Maybe, if I’d known the person for much, much longer than two months. But not someone I barely knew.

“I don’t need your help,” I said hotly, getting up. I ended up just standing there, since there wasn’t anywhere else to go. He took a step forward, and I took one back.
“Clearly,” he said sarcastically, looking around the miniscule room. “I think this place is just great. Real safe and cozy.”

I snapped. Advancing, I got right in his face. “No one asked you what you thought. Now please, just leave.”

“Alayna—” he started to say, but I just shook my head.

“Please?” I asked softly, “Just leave?” I was tired, and this wasn’t exactly a cheerful topic of conversation. “Thank you, but I’m fine. You need to stop… Stop worrying about me, okay? I’m not your problem. Or anyone else’s.”

I tried to smile, but it was weak. He looked at me carefully for a long time, and then turned on his heels and left.

Just like that.

…..

“Thanks,” I said to Hayden distractedly as he pulled up to my building. I couldn’t help playing the conversation from last night over and over again in my head.

I’d felt awful after James left, and sleep hadn’t come easily.

“You okay?” Hayden asked.

“Yeah, thanks for the ride.” I leapt out of the car and rushed upstairs.

I dropped everything by my unmade bed. I was feeling restless. Too restless. My thoughts had been so muddled last night that I didn’t even think about it. But now I was.

I needed a distraction. Staying in all night would do nothing for me and my unwavering thoughts of a certain hockey player.

I threw my old gray hoodie on and slipped into my most comfy black flats. Placing a hand on the door, I hesitated.

This isn’t worth it.

You can stop.

Except I couldn’t. Once the idea was in my head, it wouldn’t go away until I was exploring a new house and drinking orange juice on some random dining table. Locking the door and putting my key in my back pocket, I headed to the bus stop.

……

I knew it was a bad idea. And it was even worse, because it was close to two in the morning, which meant that whoever’s house I was breaking and entering into was most likely at home.

Asleep, maybe, but at home nonetheless.

It’s too late now, I thought as I stared up at the massive mansion in front of me. It was pitch black outside, and so was the house. At lease I knew for a fact that all the occupants were asleep.

I wanted to leave, turn around, and crawl into bed. But I knew I couldn’t. I decided to skip out on the exploring, and just grab a quick drink, and then vamoose.

That would be enough to satisfy whatever it was that needed satisfying.

This time, I was able to find a basement window unlocked, and shimmied in that way. Basement windows were the best. They were low on the ground, and I just had to sit down and slip in. No climbing required, like with regular windows.

It was even blacker and darker inside the basement, and I felt the familiar rush of being in new, unknown territory. This time though, there was a hint of hesitation.

I let my eyes adjust to the lack of light and located the stairs. Carefully and silently, I made my way up.

Bingo.

The basement door opened right up into the kitchen.

Smiling triumphantly, I made my way into the kitchen.

The floors creaked loudly, and I paused as I reached the fridge. I could feel my heart speeding up, and an uneasiness crept slowly into my belly.

More than anything, I wanted to be out of there. I should have waited until tomorrow.

But I didn’t stop. I opened the fridge, and light from inside flooded the kitchen.

Tropicana. My favorite. Grabbing the juice, I turned to place it onto the counter, and came face to face with the barrel of a very long, very large shotgun.

“Drop the OJ, and put your hands up.”

I did as I was told and studied my captor. She had rollers in her hair, dressed in a ratty pink bathrobe, and was around sixty.

I had no idea what an old lady living in suburban Pittsburg was doing with a freaking shotgun, but I didn’t question her.

“Ma’am,” I whispered carefully. I didn’t want her trigger finger to react suddenly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re trying to steal my OJ!” She accused loudly, gun still in my face. Okay, so it was exactly what it looked like. “Now sit down, I’m calling the cops.”

Crap.

What was going on with me? I used to be flawless with stuff like this.

Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting in a hard, wooden chair opposite a very angry policeman in the local police station. He appraised me carefully as he typed furiously on the computer in front of him.

“Sir,” I spoke up for the first time since being arrested. “This is a mistake. I didn’t actually do anything…”

That sounded unconvincing even to me. The fact was, I had done something. And I’d gotten caught, and this time, I wasn’t going to get away with it.

“Breaking and entering is not nothing,” he replied. He was in his forties, fit, and really annoyed at the moment.

“Is Officer Beck here?” I tried again, sounding as polite and angelic as possible. If anyone could get me out of this, it was John Beck.

The cop looked at curiously. “Nah, he’s on vacation. How do you know him?”

I just shook my head as my sorrow swallowed me whole. This was the worse thing that could happen to me. I was so close to graduating. So close. I needed a job after I graduated, and a criminal record was not ideal for my resume.

“Alright,” he announced, pushing his chair back and getting up. “Let’s get you locked up.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Locked up?! Is that necessary?” He came over to my side and pulled me up by the arm. He just grinned, amused.

“Sorry, rules are rules.”

He didn’t seem sorry at all. He appeared to be enjoying himself. My heart was racing at a million miles a minute.

I’ve always known the risks of what I was doing. But I’d never, ever been caught. I didn’t actually think I’d get arrested.

Shit.

Grams and Gramps were going to have heart attacks. Should I call them? Who’s supposed to pay my bail? Do I even get bail? How much would it be?

Shit shit shit.

And then I saw it. A picture by his computer.

It was the cop, smiling with a younger, teenage girl. His daughter, maybe. They were grinning, arms around each other, in a crowd. A hockey crowd. They were at a game, and they both had on Pens jerseys.

I stopped in my tracks, and the cop stopped too, since he was still manhandling my arm.

Was it illegal to try to bribe a cop? I mean, I’d already been arrested. He couldn’t arrest me again…

Oh fuck, I couldn’t believe I was about to do this.

“Say I could get a Penguins player here? To sign something maybe? Take a picture with you. What would happen then?”

The cop smirked at me, but didn’t try to pull me towards the holding cells. “Depends on who.”

“Say it was James Neal.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, okay. You get James Neal here, and I’ll letcha go.” He proceeded to pull me along, towards the back of the station. Wen went through a door, past a desk where a female officer was reading a Cosmo magazine, and then reached a hallway with two holding cells opposite each other.

I doubted he would even come. He was probably mad at me still about last night. And the last thing I wanted was his help. That would just prove him right. And prove me wrong.

One night in here wasn’t so bad, compared to admitting that I was wrong.
The cop used a card to unlock the metal bars and the door swung opened. He waited patiently for me to step inside the tiny, abysmal space.

This wasn’t so bad. There was even a bench against the wall that I could almost lie down on…

And then I saw the toilet, the one with a curtain next to it, probably crawling with diseases.

I gulped. “Can I please have that one phone call now?”