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“Why wouldn’t I want you to see that? It’s a free country, and I’m a free agent. If I’m arranging dates, I’m not about to hide that from you.”
“Okay, so what would you hide from me?”
“Nothing, now just give me the fucking phone back.”
“Not until you tell me.” He began swiping at the screen. “Unlocked. Are you insane? You need a passcode on your phone.”
“Why, to keep prying eyes out? I don’t need a passcode. I just need for people to mind their own business.”
“What about if you lose it? You’re giving some asshole access to your entire life in the palm of their hands.”
“First of all, in all the time I’ve owned a phone, I’ve never lost one yet.”
“Really? I feel like I’ve lost hundreds.”
“Yeah, really. Maybe because for me money doesn’t grow on trees. A lost phone would mean going without until I could save for another one, not an upgrade like I’m sure would have happened for you.”
He looked guilty as sin, so I took that as yes. He directed his attention back down at the screen.
“These are job listings.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I don’t have one, remember? And I can’t keep doing casual work like I have been. I need a proper job with proper benefits—I may have the severance period from the golf club, but what happens after that? With Dad’s illness the way it is, we can’t afford to be without healthcare for even a minute.” I grimaced. “So, if someone wants to infiltrate, and take on my shitty life via my phone—that includes the debt, the employment uncertainty, health insurance woes, the stalker—they’re more than welcome to that shit. In fact, I’d give it to the first person who asked. It’s not worth anything to me, and I’m willing to bet it would be worth even less to them.”
“There must be something redeeming about your life?”
“My dad, that’s it. He’s been my mom, my dad, my rock, my listening ear, my counselor, my everything, for as long as I can remember. I’d see everything go up in flames and not even look back if I still had him. But the sad fact is that it will probably pan out in the reverse. He’ll be gone, and I’ll be left with all the shit, without the one good thing that ever happened to me.” Depressing, but true. My body sagged in defeat as I thought about it.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She died when I was little.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Of course, you didn’t know, or you wouldn’t have asked. And obviously it’s not something I advertise. Like ‘Hi, I’m Kik, and my mom ran off and left me and my dad when I was barely out of diapers, then promptly died’ isn’t the best conversation starter.”
“What?”
“Umm… I have no idea why I just said that.” Jesus.
“But you did, so now I need to know the rest. What happened?”
“Fuck.” It really was stupid to have mentioned my situation to anyone other than close friends or family, let alone to someone who was the literal opposite of either of those things.
The tension and high drama of the previous few hours really must have gotten to me. I gave Drew a surreptitious sidelong glance, and that helped me decide. He’d let me see him all beat up and vulnerable, so I guessed I had nothing to lose. It was old news, anyway.
“To cut a long story very short, she left my father for his best friend, and got killed in a freak accident when they eloped to Mexico. So, yeah…”
“Nope. You can’t just sum up your life in one sentence, and then say, ‘so yeah,’ like that’s all there is to it.”
Christ. Why the hell had I even opened this can of worms?
“I can, and I just did. That’s all you’re getting, and even that is too much.”
“This is non-negotiable. I want details.”
“Or what? You have no more leverage over me.”
“I’m your landlord, and I had you fired. That’s plenty. Plus, I have a job opportunity for you.”
