“I don’t wanna go down there, but I’m starvin’。 I have two sandwiches in the fridge, can you toss ‘em up to me?”
I blinked. Did he not know who he was talking to? Me tossing stuff? “Give me a second.”
He pumped his hands in front of his chest before retreating behind the bannister. What a goofball.
As I passed by the doorway of the living room to go into the kitchen, I could see the crew arranging white umbrellas and bright lights by the couches as the man in the suit talked to Aiden and Trevor. I snagged the two foot-long sandwiches still in their wax-paper wrapper from the fridge, and hustled up the stairs with them and a bag of sweet potato chips. I knew him. He’d get hungry in half an hour on just a sandwich.
Sure enough, Zac was waiting at the top of the stairs, his back against the guest bedroom’s closed door, just far enough away from the staircase so that anyone standing at the bottom couldn’t see him.
He beamed when he spotted my offering. It didn’t escape me that he still hadn’t gotten dressed for the day. I couldn’t wait until I didn’t have to either. “I love you, Vanny. Do you know I love you?”
I handed him his things. “So you’ve said.”
“I do. Anything you ever need, I’m your loyal servant,” he said, busy peering down the stairs as he whispered.
“How about a million bucks?”
Zac glanced at me over his shoulder. “Well, anything but that. I don’t even have a million bucks for me. I’m the poor guy in the house.”
Considering he probably made eight times what I did—at least—I wouldn’t call him poor. But comparing him to Money Bags of Winnipeg in the living room, I could see his point.
“Have you seen Vanessa?” Aiden’s voice carried up the stairs from below.
Just as I opened my mouth to let him know where I was, Trevor answered. “Since when do I keep track of your dinner roll?” he replied in a voice that definitely wasn’t a whisper.
Did that asshole just call me fat?
Zac’s eyes met mine as if he was thinking the same thing. I frowned and put my index finger up to my mouth so I could focus on listening. Apparently, I was a masochist who liked to do things that caused myself pain and anger.
“She was here a second ago.”
“I know this isn’t the time, but I will find you somebody else,” that was the asshole talking. “She did tell you she was quitting, didn’t she?”
Aiden’s “Uh-huh” made it up the stairs.
“Good. I’ll find you a replacement soon. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” the traitor replied, which only slightly insulted me.
“I was worried you weren’t going to handle it well,” Trevor admitted, but I was so focused on what was being said, I didn’t pick up on the hints he was leaving with his word choice.
“She can do whatever she wants,” The Wall of Winnipeg replied in that cool voice that held zero emotion, a confirmation of its own that he meant what he said.
What a damn dick. Did anyone appreciate me?
“I never liked her much anyway,” the devil’s advocate continued.
I hadn’t liked Trevor much either, but sheesh. Weren’t there more important things in the world to talk about than me behind my back?
Aiden on the other hand grunted, and the insults just kept on coming…
“Maybe I can find you someone a little easier on the eyes. What do you think?” Trevor’s tone lightened at his joke.
I waited. Then I waited a little longer for Aiden to tell him to shut up and do his job.
But I waited in vain. He didn’t say a word.
After everything I had done for Aiden…
Everything…
He was going to let Trevor talk shit about me? I mean, I just figured a decent person wouldn’t do that. I would never let anyone talk badly about Aiden, unless it was Zac and I doing the shit-talking, but I figured we both had get-out-of-jail passes with it since he was his roommate and I was his lackey.
But the entire conversation—this moment—felt like a betrayal at the highest level.
It was one thing to be his employee, but for him not to care even a little bit that I was leaving? On top of that, for him to let this asshole talk about me? About my freaking looks of all things? I’d never shown up to work a sloppy mess. My straight, auburn hair was usually fine because I didn’t do much with it other than let it loose around my shoulders. I put makeup on and put some effort into my clothes. I wasn’t gorgeous, but I wasn’t ugly—at least I didn’t think so. And sure, I wasn’t a size zero or a three or a five, but was Trevor fucking kidding me? Me? A goddamn dinner roll?
I was hit on every once in a while. If I wanted a boyfriend, I could have a boyfriend, and he wouldn’t look like Shrek either, damn it.
Fucking asshole. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t exactly Keanu Reeves to begin with.
I managed to count to two before thinking “fuck it” and letting myself get mad.
What was I doing here? It had been weeks since I told them I was quitting. Aiden had been bossier and moodier than usual. Colder. I couldn’t completely blame it on his injury at this point either.
And here I’d been stressing out about keeping his house clean, putting chocolates on his pillow, and delaying my dreams because I felt bad leaving him, and he couldn’t even tell Trevor not to talk about me.
I swallowed and blinked once. Only once. I met Zac’s eyes and found his jaw clenched. Biting the inside of my cheek, I thought about what I told myself out on the curb with the trashcan. I’d begun going for walks that day. I’d even done a little jogging. I’d gotten paid last week.
This was my life, and I was the one to choose how to spend it, didn’t I? Hadn’t I done enough? Put up with enough? Sucked it up enough?
If I didn’t put up with people who should have mattered, why the hell was I putting up with people who didn’t? Life was what you made out of it, at least that was what those Chicken Soup books my foster father thrust on me when I was a teenager imprinted on me. When life gives you lemons, you get to choose what you make out of them; it doesn’t always have to be lemonade.
With a mental slap to my own butt, I nodded at the only loyal person in this house. “I’m out of here.”
“Van—” he started to say, shaking his head. His long face was tight.
“Don’t worry about it. They’re not worth it.”
Zac scrubbed at the side of his jaw before tilting his head in the direction of the stairs. “Get outta here before I try to go kick both their asses.”
That had me sucking in a watery snort. Try to kick both of their asses. “Give me a call or a text every once in a while. All right?”
“Nothin’ would stop me from doin’ it,” he assured me, putting his fist out.
Thinking of my psychopath older sisters, I filled my veins with every inch of hard-earned resolve I had within me, and fist bumped him. We looked at each other for a moment before hugging, just a second, not a good-bye but an ‘I’ll see you later.’
Down the stairs, I ignored the bare walls I’d be looking at for the last time. The sound of voices in the living room almost had me glancing over, but I didn’t care enough to waste the energy.