That sort of entitled male bullshit was usually the thing that made Claire run in the opposite direction. Right after she drove her knee into the guy’s nuts. But the way Michael said it … the words were more of a plea than an angry demand. She’d stolen the guy’s watch and left him with a serious case of blue balls. Was she the world’s biggest asshole or what?
Claire spent the entire thirty-minute cab ride replaying the night’s events in her mind. There was something about Michael—other than the fact that he’d lied about his name—that spoke to a hidden part of her. As though she’d known him for a lifetime. Or, rather, was meant to know him for a lifetime.
Wow. Way to rock the hopeless romantic vibe. What a loser. Life wasn’t all rose petals and rainbows. Claire had firsthand proof of that. And besides, the guy had been high on something and that violated Claire’s number one most important dating rule: No drugs. Ever.
The cab pulled up to her building and she dug the wad of bills from her pocket. “That’ll be seventy bucks,” the cabbie said with a sneer.
Seventy dollars? What a crock. She knew for a fact that he shouldn’t have charged her more than forty-five. But the jerk had turned off the meter when they pulled out onto Sunset so she couldn’t call him on his miscalculation. She’d been more than willing to give the guy a generous tip—more than the seventy he asked for—for going out of his way to take her home. But instead of trusting her to do as she promised, he’d chosen to rip her off. Typical L.A. bullshit.
“Here.” She gave him two twenties and a ten and opened the door.
“What the hell?” he barked. “I thought you said you’d make it worth my while.”
“You made it more than worth it,” she said as she climbed out of the car. “It’s not my fault you calculated your own tip.”
She closed the door on the string of profanity he was throwing her way. What a jerk. Without a look back, she took off at a slow jog toward her building. The place was only a notch above condemned and it still cost her nine hundred dollars a month in rent. If she could manage to pick up a double shift or two at the diner, she’d be elevated to “just scraping by” status. And it was a total downer to admit that she aspired to that lowly fiscal existence. Scraping by was still way better than anything she’d had so far in her twenty-four years of life.
Once inside the building, Claire made her way up the stairs to the second story. She paused at unit 216 and pulled the rest of the money and the watch from her pocket. Midnight. Probably too late to knock.#p#分页标题#e#
“Hi, Claire!” a soft ten-year-old voice said as the door opened. “I thought I heard someone out in the hall.”
Claire gave her young neighbor an apologetic smile. Ever since they day they’d moved in, something about the girl had tickled her instincts. Like an itch that she couldn’t quite reach. Maybe it was simply the kinship of their similar childhoods. Either way, it had instantly endeared her to Claire. “Hi, Vanessa. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” she said. “Mom’s having a bad night, so I was up making her some soup.”
Bad night. Right. Vanessa’s mom, Carlene, was addicted to oxy and paid about as much attention to Vanessa as she did to their scrawny, malnourished cat. Carlene had sold her daughter’s bike last month to fund her fix and Claire was pretty sure that Vanessa didn’t have anything but ramen noodles in the house. Why was it so hard for some people to love and take care of their kids? “I wanted to drop off a little something for you.” Claire motioned for Vanessa to come out into the hall, extended her hand, and put a wad of bills in the girl’s palm. “Go out tomorrow and buy some food. And get a new outfit for school and some notebooks and pencils, okay? Tina will help you if go down to the thrift store at the end of the block. You don’t want to start a new year without at least one pretty new dress.”
“I know Tina. I play with her new puppy sometimes. But … I can’t take this,” Vanessa said, her eyes wide. “Mom would—”
“Your mom doesn’t need to know,” Claire interrupted. If Carlene found out about the money she’d spend it on pills before you could say “back to school sale.” “Think of it as an early birthday present.”
Vanessa’s mouth puckered. “My birthday isn’t until February.”
“An early Christmas present, then. Take the money and hide it somewhere, okay? Don’t tell anyone else about it. Just go out tomorrow and buy some stuff.”