“Nothing in life is cheap,” Bram says but I barely hear him. I have to bring myself back into the moment and stop my head and my worries from running away on me. I came out tonight to put those on the backburner. God knows I’ll have more than enough time to worry after this.
“Am I boring you?” he asks and I turn my head to look at him.
“No. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
My brows lift up. “I don’t think we’re at that ‘let’s tell each other what we’re thinking’ stage.”
“Not yet.”
Not ever, I think. But I don’t want to answer any more questions about myself, so I ask him to tell me more about the apartment and I force myself to listen. The more he talks about it, though, the more I see this is something he’s actually stressing a bit over. I mean, it’s hard to tell if Bram is stressed or not because he always has that charmer expression on his face like he’s always trying to get in someone’s pants, male or female. But there’s a harder glint to his eyes when he talks about the rent of the building and how much he has to charge in order to make his mortgage.
“So why did you buy it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I needed to do something.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Rent is phenomenal in the city even in SOMA. Everyone predicted it would be the next place to become the it place. Hell, I bet the Tenderloin will turn that way soon too. Hanging with crack addicts will become the cool thing to do and hipsters will take over the street corners. And my rent will go up once again.” He shoots me a quick glance at the hardness that crept up in my voice. I try to sound breezier. “Anyway, I’m sure you bought at the right time.”
“Maybe,” he says, running his long fingers over his dark stubble. He’s got a very manly-looking chin, but I quickly chide myself for noticing. “But when I bought the place, I was hoping to…well, doesn’t matter does it? What’s done is done.”
And luckily before he has any chance to ask me about my non-existent job, we pull up in front of Steph and Linden’s building. Just as I’m lifting Ava out of the car, the doors open and Steph comes out, wobbling a bit in her strappy heels and carrying two glasses of wine.
Married life looks good on her. She’s gained some weight, but it’s all gone to her boobs, so that’s not really fair. Her hair is dyed mermaid blue (or baby blue, to be more specific) and she always looks happy and flushed like she’s just had some good sex. It’s a wonder I don’t hate her.
“Nic!” she yelps and comes speed-walking over as fast as she can without spilling the wine. She hands me a glass of red and says, “Here, drink this. We’ve got you.” She looks me deep in the eyes and I feel momentarily calmed.
And that’s why I could never hate her. She’s pretty much the best friend a girl could have.
She glances over at Bram and gives him a quick smile before beaming down at Ava.
“Ava, you look like a princess!”
“I am a princess,” she says. “You’re just a mermaid.”
Steph lifts her head in mock supremacy. “No one is just a mermaid.”
Ava seems to consider that for a moment then eyes the glass of wine in my hand. “Can I have some? I’m thirsty.”
“You’re always thirsty,” I tell her. “This is mommy’s adult drink. I’ll get you some juice when we’re inside, okay?”
She nods and licks her lips. She’s always been a thirsty child, but seems so even more lately. That and she gets just about as hungry as I do when I haven’t eaten. I don’t know where she puts all the food either. She definitely didn’t inherit her mom’s curvy calves and thighs. She’s all chicken legs and twig arms, something my doctor said is totally normal for a girl her age.
I turn, about to thank Bram for the ride. After all, he didn’t have to come get me, but he’s back in his car and driving away, the sleek façade of the Mercedes disappearing down the hill.
“Where’s he going?” I ask Steph. “My booster seat is still in the back.”
She takes a lengthy sip of wine. “To pick up his girlfriend of the week from her job. He’ll be back.”
“Right,” I say slowly. “Let me guess, supermodel?”
She shrugs. “Dunno. Probably. Haven’t met her yet. What’s the point when they never last very long?”
“I thought you were sending me an Uber.”
“He volunteered, actually,” she says, turning back toward the building. “He’s tonight’s designated driver.”