Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  Hunter paused at the corner a moment, typed back her acceptance, and headed down the stairs to the subway to catch the C train home. Her studio was quiet when she arrived home, and her one and only roommate, Elvis, her terrier-corgi mix and the coolest dog on the planet, jumped down from the Barcelona chair he’d been sleeping on and turned in half a dozen frenzied circles at her feet. He really was all about the celebrating. She leaned down to pat his head and scratch his stomach, which earned her a few well-placed swipes of his tongue across her cheek. Instead of getting up and carrying on with her evening, she decided to chill on the floor with him a little longer.

  “How was your day, Elvis? Sell any stock?”

  He whined back at her.

  “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe the market will be stronger tomorrow. Don’t lose sleep over it, stud.”

  He pawed her knee for more petting. She could oblige. She’d found Elvis locked in a small dog run at the city pound four years prior. He was an hour and a half from being put down. One snap decision later, she’d busted him from death row and had an instant new partner in crime. Elvis and Hunter taking on New York. That’s how she’d come to think of them. Elvis was the best decision she’d made in her life.

  “All right, sir,” she said and placed a kiss behind Elvis’s ear. “We need to start organizing some of this stuff for a quick move.”

  She surveyed the studio. Dark, sparse, and quiet. She had her design desk against the wall, and various images she used for creative inspiration were pinned to the boards around it in a haphazard conglomeration. Her sketchpad stood on an easel next to the desk and her acoustic guitar was propped in the corner. She didn’t have a lot of furniture, but that was on purpose. Hunter wasn’t really someone who lounged a lot. Too much to go out and do in the world. So the black Barcelona chair and the sculpted blue love seat were enough. Above the sitting area, the walls were adorned with metal art, some she’d purchased and some she’d created herself. As her eyes drifted across the brightly colored twisted metallic brambles, she stared down at the platform bed and all of its glorious memories. Many a night she’d enjoyed with various women, faceless in her mind now, but important all the same. It was a very specific kind of space. But it was hers and she’d be sad to see it go.

  She began to take down the printed images from above her desk and organized them into piles of those to keep and those to trash. There was something cathartic about the process. Like maybe she was ready for a new place and this was just the fire she needed to get out there and find something a bit more mature. She was getting older, after all, which was cool in a whole separate way. In a year and a half, she’d be thirty. Maybe it was time for her to settle down some, find a different rhythm. Buy some matching dish towels. She laughed out loud at the thought. Probably not.

  “One step at a time, right, Elvis?”

  He glanced up from project rawhide in what seemed to be agreement.

  And that’s when it hit her.

  This feeling that overtook everything, causing the smile to fade from her face as it grabbed hold. She wasn’t at all into premonitions and she certainly didn’t have the ability to predict the future, but signs and inklings had always been very prominent in her life and she’d learned to pay attention when they struck.

  She sank into her desk chair and closed her eyes. Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, it felt distinctly like something big was about to happen. Like that ultra-still scene in Mary Poppins right before the weather changes. She didn’t know what it was, or what she should do to prepare, but something out of reach was on its way to her.

  That much she knew.

  Chapter Two

  It was five minutes to midnight when Samantha opened the wine. A bottle of red for herself and Hunter, and a bottle of white for Brooklyn and Mallory.

  Generally, the wine opening was Brooklyn’s job, but she’d been a little MIA lately. Sam had waited until a quarter to midnight, but her roommate had yet to show. Cut her some slack, Sam reminded herself, she’s in the pretty and sparkly land of new relationships.

  In actuality, she could relate.

  She lived there too lately and it was awesome. She reflected on Libby and her gorgeous hair and sparkling blue eyes and smiled when she remembered her promotion news from earlier. It felt good to be in a relationship. And with Libby, no less, who was clearly a huge catch. She sighed happily. She should pick up some daisies for Libby tomorrow, a congratulatory gesture. And maybe there’d be some other extracurricular activities later that night.

  The loft door slid open at record speed as Brooklyn, clearly doing her Roger Rabbit impersonation, raced in. “Sorry, I’m late. I’ll get the wine. Oh, you got the wine. Excellent. I’ll get the Oreos.”

  “They’re already on the coffee table.”

  “Malted milk balls?”

  Sam nodded. “Check.”

  “And the—”

  “Done. M&M’s. Chocolate-covered pretzels. Ice cream toppings, including hot fudge. And two kinds of ice cream in the freezer. All assembled and ready for consumption. Voilà.” She handed Brooklyn a glass of white wine.

  “Oh.” Brooklyn stared at the wine and seemed to let her brain catch up before turning and surveying the coffee table in wonder. “We always prep for the MCs together. And I made you do everything. I’m sorry I was late, Sammie.”

  “’Sokay,” Sam answered with a smile. “You’re in love. It’s what happens. Plus, it wasn’t that much work.”

  Brooklyn eased onto a bar stool at the counter. “You’re the greatest of the great, you know that? And dependable. I feel like I can always count on you.”

  “Don’t forget the cute one. I’m also that.”

  “Duh. Just look at you. Five feet two-inches of adorable.”

  Adorable. Cute. Dependable. Those were words she was comfortable with and used to hearing. They were the adjectives people often employed to describe her. Given, they weren’t as exciting as alluring or mysterious or sexy, but she was fine with that.

  As she carried a second tray full of treats to the coffee table, she caught her reflection looking back at her. Medium-length auburn hair, which she then tucked behind her left ear instinctually, and dark green eyes. You’d think she was of Irish descent based on the color combination, but her dad’s family was from Poland and her mom had Native American ties. So it was really just a fluke of her parents’ combined DNA. No one else in her family had auburn hair, and since she was an only child, there were no siblings to compare with. Her height, however, was a direct pass-down from her mother. No female relative on that side of the family had ever bypassed the five-five mark. All in all, Sam knew she was a decent-looking girl, pretty enough, but she’d never thought of herself as a major head turner. She was the type who kept her head down and got things done. And there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, others respected her for it.

  “So are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  Sam turned to face Brooklyn. “The MC? Definitely. Once the others arrive.”

  Brooklyn pointed energetically at the sliding loft door and their two friends entering together. “Now?”

  “Almost. You’re kind of five years old right now, you should know this.”

  Mallory rounded the island. “Brooklyn’s five?”

  Sam nodded. “She is. Super impatient.”

  “But a likeable five-year-old,” Hunter said and kissed Brooklyn’s cheek.

  Brooklyn grinned at the compliment. “Aw, I can live with five, then.” She studied Hunter’s look. “But I have to hate you. Since when do you have all-black cool pajamas? Why don’t I have all-black cool pajamas?”

  Hunter shrugged. “No one is stopping you.”

  Samantha poured wine for the new arrivals. “We’re not as cool as Hunter. It’s a cosmic rule and thereby fruitless to try. We’ll crash and burn a fiery fashion death.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” Hunter said, kissing her cheek, too. “You’re my favorite.”

  “Easy co
me, easy go,” Brooklyn sighed.

  But it was a fact of life. Hunter was blessed with the gift of effortless style. She could take an outfit that would look extreme or tragic on someone else and make it chic and sexy. Even dressed down, Hunter managed to look gorgeous. While the three of them came dressed in a variety of plaid pajama pants and tank tops, Hunter came in slender fitting black crop sweatpants and black cami top that elongated her slender torso and brought out the sleekness of her five-seven frame. Her hair was down tonight and fell in luxurious dark waves down her back, but it was a surefire bet that she’d wear it in an entirely new and equally impressive style tomorrow, and then change it up daily to keep the world guessing. She was a master of diverse hairstyles. The sum of it all was that Hunter snagged the attention of pretty much everyone when she walked in a room, and it was fun for Sam to watch it happen.

  “Jane Eyre?” Hunter asked Sam, lifting the battered book from where it rested on the end table.

  Sam lit up. “Yep. That was last week. Finishing The Princess Bride now.”

  “I have a feeling they’re going to end up together,” Hunter said dryly.

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Sam asked.

  Hunter regarded her. “Nothing. If you like boring and predictable.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you just said that. There is nothing boring about happily ever after.”

  Mallory tilted her head and looked to Samantha. “Do you ever worry that all of these romances you read will set you up with a false notion of what to expect from real life?”

  Samantha smiled at Mallory being Mallory. Realistic and levelheaded. Sam had always been more of a dreamer type. It was why she and Brooklyn got along so well. She liked living on the optimistic side of life as long as it made sense to. “If you would just agree to go on a few dates once in a while, maybe you’d find your Princess Charming,” Sam said.

  Mallory considered this as she sipped her wine. “While exciting in theory, that sounds like a lot of work, and I happen to have very high standards.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Samantha said, nodding. “I’ve heard it all before, Spencer. But one day, love is going to smack you in the face.”

  Mallory shrugged. “Well, I hope it’s a bit more gentle in its execution than that.”

  In comfy pajamas with wine in hand, the girls settled around the coffee table and all of the fantastic, delectable goodness that came with Midnight Chocolate.

  Samantha decided to jump right in. “So I’m sure you’re curious as to why I called an MC, and I’m afraid the news isn’t great.” She located the notice from the end table and passed it to Hunter for reference. “As Mallory is aware, we received notice from the building that they’re raising our rent. And not just any raise, a major hike that will affect our bottom line quite a bit.”

  “Whoa,” Brooklyn said. She accepted the notice from Hunter and leaned back against the couch from her spot on the floor. “What does that mean for us?”

  Mallory jumped in. “Essentially, that’s what we have to decide. How important is the loft to Savvy’s continued success?”

  “The loft is part of us,” Hunter said. “It’s where we make everything happen. That space is important, at least from a creative standpoint. You agree, Brooks?”

  “Absolutely. I like to stare at the little gray spot on the brick when I brainstorm. The little gray spot sees me through. The gray spot inspires me.”

  “Okay,” Mallory said, smiling at Brooklyn’s confession. “It’s our home. And the little gray spot is important.”

  Brooklyn held up a finger. “It’s landed us lots of accounts.”

  “But it doesn’t mean we can’t make the next place our home, too,” Mallory said. “Find you a new spot on the wall to stare at. We have to keep our heads about us. This is a twenty-five percent increase, and the rent in this neighborhood was already incredibly steep.”

  “Do we have the money?” Brooklyn asked, dropping the notice and turning to Sam.

  “We do. But it will definitely cut into the plans we have.”

  “No. This isn’t right. They can’t do this to us,” Brooklyn said. “We should draft a letter. Mallory, draft a letter. You’re scary.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Mallory said. “Unfortunately, it’s gonna take more than a businesslike letter. If we want to stay, we have to fork over the cash.”

  “Then let’s do that,” Hunter said. “Seems like a no-brainer to me.”

  Thank God someone else thought so. Sam sighed in relief internally. “I agree with Hunter. I want to stay. The money will be rough, but I can see what kind of magic I can work in other areas. Maybe there are cuts to be made elsewhere.”

  Brooklyn squeezed her knee. “I have faith in you, Sammie Sam. You’re a numbers badass. I’m with them,” Brooklyn said, pointing at Samantha and Hunter. “Let’s do it. Let’s stay.”

  Mallory raised her wineglass. “A four-way agreement. It sounds like we have a plan. That wasn’t so painful after all. And hey, there’s chocolate.”

  “Calorie-free chocolate,” Brooklyn said, twisting an Oreo. “There are no calories if consumed after midnight.”

  “There is one other thing to consider, Brooklyn,” Mallory said, sitting a little taller. “This affects rent for the three of us as well. It’s a building-wide increase.”

  Suddenly the Oreo stalled in midair. “Oh.” Brooklyn swiveled her focus to Sam. “Of course. I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me.”

  “It’s okay,” Samantha said. “I did the same thing. The building wants to know by the end of the month if we want to sign a lease for another year. I know I don’t want to leave, but you live here, too. You have a say.”

  Brooklyn’s eyes were wider than usual, that much Sam was clear on. She looked caught, like an innocent rabbit backed into a corner by some hunters. Brooklyn’s gaze moved to Mallory and then Hunter before settling on the coffee table. Okay, something was definitely up.

  “Brooklyn, what is it? Is there something on your mind?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. But…well, the other day…”

  Mallory stepped in. “Brooks, you can tell us.”

  “I know. I just…”

  “Say it fast,” Hunter offered. “Whenever I have trouble saying something, I find it’s best to just race through it.”

  Brooklyn nodded and took a breath. “Jessica asked me to move in with her.”

  And there it was.

  Samantha sat back in her chair. “Oh. Okay. Well, that’s great, Brooks.”

  But it wasn’t.

  It was horrible.

  She knew it would happen at some point, the way Brooklyn and Jessica had taken to each other, but she figured it’d be down the road a ways. She was great at deluding herself, it seemed.

  “Are you going to do it?” Mallory asked.

  Brooklyn squeezed the bridge of her nose and then raised her eyes to Sam. Clearly, this was hard for her. “I was leaning that way. It seems like the next step in our relationship. I sleep over there so much as it is, and now with the lease in question, I think it might be the perfect time to take her up on it, make it official. What do you think, Sam? I don’t want to leave you in a tough spot.”

  What was she supposed to say here? You’re my best friend. Please don’t leave? Instead she did the mature thing despite the desperate pang of sadness that was already settling. “I think you should do it.” And while she tried to muster a supportive friend smile for Brooklyn’s sake, it was quite a challenge. She didn’t want her to move out. They were Brooklyn and Sam. This was Brooklyn and Sam’s place. That was the way things were. This was life as she knew it, and she didn’t want it to change.

  “Really?” Brooklyn asked, hope now present in her eyes—all the more confirmation that she was doing the right thing.

  “Really.”

  Mallory sent her a sympathetic gaze, one that said she understood what was racing through Sam’s head. She had always been the one in the group capable
of seeing the big picture, and she surely knew what this would do to Samantha. “Does that mean you’ll look for a new place, Sam?”

  She glanced around the loft. The idea of packing up her things and moving somewhere else was enough to make her physically ache. She couldn’t do that. She simply could not. She loved the loft. “I don’t want to leave,” she said candidly. “I guess I need to advertise for a roommate to make up the other half of the rent.”

  Hunter had a thought and raised her hand tentatively. “I think I might have a suggestion.” All eyes were on her. She turned to Samantha. “How would you feel about rooming with me?” The words were out of Hunter’s mouth before she’d fully thought them through, but honestly, it wasn’t a bad idea. Sam needed a roommate. She needed a roof over her head.

  “Whoa. Really? You’d consider that?” Sam asked. But there was a smile on her face, like someone had just thrown her a life preserver. “I mean, I think that would be great. The idea of living with a stranger is kind of terrifying.”

  Hunter nodded and continued to mull over the possibility. “It would certainly shorten my trip to work every day. And I can vibe with this place. I’ve always liked it here.”

  Samantha bopped herself in the forehead. “That’s right. I totally blanked that you’ve been looking for a place.”

  “Perfect timing,” Brooklyn said. “The way that matched up.”

  Mallory nodded. “It really is. Almost like it was meant to happen this way.” Hunter thought of the feeling that had come over her back at her place and couldn’t help but wonder if that was the case. Life had a funny way of laying a path out in front of you.

  “What’s your timeline? How soon do you need to be out of your studio?” Samantha asked her.

  She winced apologetically. “End of next week.”

  Mallory stared at her, mystified. “You like to cut it close.”