by Kate McLay
The Housing Crisis © Kate McLay 2016.
Amazon Kindle Edition.
Edited by Rearing Horse Editing.
Cover design by Kate McLay.
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.
First LoveLight Press electronic publication: August 2015.
http://lovelightpress.com
The Housing Crisis is set in Chicago, Illinois and as such uses American English throughout.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter One
Despite her mother fretting that she'd end up dead in a gutter after her six months in Chicago, Alyssa thought that she was doing pretty good. It didn't make the phone calls home any less stressful, and every worried text or email was a simple reminder of two things:
1. Her mother did not trust her to look after herself.
2. She would always be the baby of the family.
But she'd known the second fact for as long as she could remember. That's what happened when you were the youngest of seven kids. It had been hard to move away. She and her brothers and sisters were close, except for her older brother Johnny, who’d cut himself off from the family when she was five. She'd been thinking about Johnny a lot since leaving home. He was the only one who’d made it out of Iowa; the farthest any of her other siblings had moved was to the Quad Cities. And yet here she was, living it up in Chicago, college degree in hand, a paying job putting food on the table, and a roommate that wasn't a total nightmare. At times she wanted to just grin at the thought of her independence, but she was riding the L right now and that might give someone the wrong impression. She didn't want trouble.
Alyssa didn't live in a dangerous neighborhood or anything, but everyone heard stories about how bad it was in the city. Still, she'd been drawn here like a moth to a flame, and she wasn't about to get burned. She was determined to make it. If she was good enough at her job, she'd be able to move up the ladder and really make something of herself.
BizzBuzz was the newest, hottest communication, news, and social media website on the web, and she was in at the ground floor. Okay, maybe the first or second floor, but she was still in early. She had stock options. Wikipedia hadn't been completely clear on what that actually meant, but she knew it was a good thing. If she stuck around long enough, she'd be rich before she was thirty.
And there were a heck of a lot more men in Chicago than in Green Hill, Iowa. So, she had a plan. Get internet rich by twenty-six, meet a handsome, stable Catholic man by twenty-four, marry him after cashing out of the company, and move to the suburbs to have a passel of children. It sounded perfect.
On paper.
But Alyssa couldn't help but feel that it was a little too perfect. It sounded exactly like what she was supposed to do, but she didn't feel it in her heart. She tried to ignore that doubt. After all, everyone went through a weird phase after college where nothing seemed quite right. If she just stuck with the plan, she’d be set for life.
The train stop was only a block from her apartment, so the light drizzle wasn't even an issue when she got down to the street. She and Nancy lived in a garden apartment on the north side. It was half underground and damp as the dickens, but it was affordable enough that they could each have their own bedrooms.
Alyssa would put up with a whole lot of things to keep this place.
But when she got home, the door was partially open and the TV was gone. Her heartbeat kicked up and her first thought was to run away and call the police. What if the burglars were still there?
Then she saw the note.
It was written on the back of a piece of junk mail and propped haphazardly on the small kitchen counter. No robber would have left a note. She saw that half the books on the small bookshelf were missing along with a thick, warm blanket that her roommate's grandmother had knitted.
Even before she finished reading, she'd realized what had happened.
Aly!
Alyssa cringed, hating the nickname, but Nancy had never realized it.
Jake finally asked me to move in with him! Can you believe it? He only had the truck today, otherwise we couldn't get my stuff for weeks. I know that you're cool and understand what it's like to be in love. Sorry about disappearing.
You're the best!
Nancy
Alyssa crumpled the note up in her fist and let out a strangled yelp. It was halfway between a scream and a sad, gurgling cry. Rent was due in two weeks and Nancy had just up and left? Could she even do that? Didn't they have some sort of agreement with the landlord?
She tossed the note down and gripped the edge of the counter tightly, rocking back on the soles of her feet. She needed to hang onto something to keep from punching the wall. She was so mad that she could spit. Nancy and Jake had been dating for less than two months! Alyssa hadn't even said anything when he started spending the night, no matter what her own morals said.
She and Nancy had gotten along, things had been going well. Nancy paid her part of the rent on time, and she'd even paid her half of the bills. What more could Alyssa ask for in a roommate?
Maybe someone who knew how to vacuum, but she didn't expect miracles.
Alyssa pulled her phone out of her pocket. She needed to talk to Nancy, to discuss this. You didn't just leave your roommate like that. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed: maybe Nancy planned to pay next month's rent, maybe her move wasn't permanent.
After finding the right contact info and placing the call, Alyssa let it ring, nervously tapping the fingers of her other hand against the Formica counter top. After three rings, she went to voicemail. Alyssa tried again after thirty seconds, hoping Nancy had just missed the call.
But she got voicemail again.
Alyssa typed out a text, careful to make sure that she sounded inviting and nice rather than accusatory. It was a hard line to walk with her heart beating so fast and her hands shaking.
Hey, there. I got your note. Can we talk? Just have a few questions.
She debated signing off with an emoji, but decided against it. There were plenty that demonstrated her mood, but none that would actually make Nancy more likely to call her back.
While waiting for Nancy to call or text, Alyssa took stock of the apartment. The TV was gone, along with some of the furniture. But, overall, it looked like Nancy hadn't stolen anything. She'd only removed her own things. That was considerat
e.
But Alyssa still wanted to scream. How could a person just leave with no warning?
Her phone beeped and she rushed over to the counter to check it, but it was only a notification for a spam email. Alyssa wanted to cry, she wanted to curse, she wanted to pray that God made Nancy see the error of her ways, but while all of those things would feel good, they wouldn't bring Nancy back. Crying and cursing were useless, and God usually didn't listen to the demands of twenty-three-year-olds who had missed church three weeks in a row.
Alyssa stared at her phone, willing Nancy to text back. One question kept ringing in her head: what was she going to do?
Chapter Two
Hannah Duncan liked to play it safe. Of course, if anyone wanted her to admit that out loud, she'd lie through her teeth. Come on, she'd say, how does a college dropout musician say safe? And her mom and her friends and her boss would be mollified.
But she hadn't played it safe with Morgan. How could she? Love at first sight sounded corny. Loving a straight girl at first sight sounded like a recipe for disaster. But six months into the relationship, and five months after moving in together, she didn't regret acting fast.
In fact, it was the day before their official six month anniversary. They didn't have plans. Morgan worked until six and Hannah had to take the closing shift at her waitressing job. At least, she was supposed to. When she arrived, her manager, Finn, gave her the night off. The restaurant was empty and there was more than enough coverage.
She and Morgan shared an apartment on the north side, just outside of Wrigleyville. It was kind of expensive for just the two of them, but Hannah was only a few blocks from work and Morgan could easily take the train to her job downtown.
On a whim, Hannah ducked into a corner shop and bought three carnations. It was almost her anniversary, after all. She needed to celebrate. And she wanted to give something to Morgan.
The walk up her street was quiet. The sounds of the city settled into a gentle, distant hum. Her street was lined with tall trees and the houses were all three stories. Cars lined each side of the thoroughfare, parking spaces a carefully guarded commodity for her neighbors.
Hannah walked up the stairs to the top floor of her building. She could see through the window that the lights were on in the kitchen, but she couldn't see Morgan. When she opened the door, R&B music filtered out, bass thumping against her ears.
Hannah furrowed her brow. Since when did Morgan like R&B?
She shrugged and closed the door, locking it behind her. Of course she didn't know everything about her girlfriend after only six months. Hannah almost called out that she'd walked in, after all, the music was loud and Morgan probably hadn't heard her. Instead, she decided to be a little sneaky.
She put her bag down on the kitchen table and grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with water. She dunked the carnations in and placed them on the table.
Hannah pulled off her shirt, hanging it on the back of one of the two chairs at their small dining table. She almost took off her pants as well, but she wanted something more to strip off. It was their anniversary, Morgan was listening to sexy music, and Hannah wanted to give her a sexy treat.
She took the carnations with her, swaying her hips as she crossed through their small living room to the bedroom. The door was closed, also unusual. But it still didn't disturb Hannah.
She opened the door and three seconds later dropped the carnations.
Yes, Morgan was listening to sexy music. But it wasn't because she wanted to feel sexy for her girlfriend. Instead she was lying on her back under a man! Not only was she cheating, she was doing it with a dude.
The cracking glass tipped the lovers off to her presence. The man, a college bro if she'd ever seen one, with shaggy blond hair and a face that looked perpetually stoned, jerked around to look at her. Morgan rose up, panic on her face.
"You're supposed to be working!" She protested, not trying to claim innocence.
"Uh, why is your roommate topless?" The bro asked.
Hannah felt cold. She crossed her arms over her chest, "Morgan?" The name came out small, weak. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. How could Morgan be fucking some guy - in the bed they shared - on their anniversary?
Hannah felt sick. She brought a hand up to her mouth, almost certain she would vomit right there.
"I think you should go, Chad." Morgan told the bro.
Chad! Really? Her girlfriend was cheating on her with an asshole named Chad! Hannah could have sworn that she could hear his dick slide out of her, but that was probably just the betrayal playing tricks on her senses.
He climbed out the bed, his dick actually wet from its time inside her girlfriend.
That was too much. Hannah rushed to the bathroom and puked in the toilet, her knees smacking against the cold tile just in time. At least her hair was short enough to avoid most of her vomit. She'd chopped it off months ago and kept it short.
She'd never been hurt like this before.
While she was cleaning herself up, Chad left and Morgan put clothes on. But Hannah was still shirtless. She reached into the closet and grabbed the first thing she could. It was a ratty black t-shirt, but she didn't care about style at the moment.
When Hannah got out of the bathroom, she saw Morgan standing in the kitchen, defiant. But Hannah didn't want to fight. She wasn't going to yell or scream or do anything that would make her hurt any more. She looked at Morgan and couldn't help but catalog her mussed hair and swollen lips, the bright red of her cheeks. She looked well pleasured, well fucked.
"I can't do this," Hannah said. She grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the door behind her and not giving Morgan a chance to say anything at all.
Chapter Three
It was three days later and Hannah and Morgan were in a state of detente. Hannah couldn't bear to look at her girlfriend - ex-girlfriend! - for more than a few moments at a time. Morgan refused to apologize for what she'd done.
The rapidly deteriorating state of their relationship was forcing Hannah to stay out of the apartment when she knew that Morgan would be there. It meant that she stayed out far later than normal, and she was losing sleep. They'd shared a bed, but Hannah couldn't sleep in it anymore. It was tainted. Instead she’d sought refuge by sleeping on the couch.
It was after ten on a Wednesday night, but Hannah was at a coffee shop, scrolling through apartment listings on her phone. The connection wasn't great, but she was making due. She'd noted down a few numbers to call in the morning. They were other young, queer women looking for roommates ASAP. But none of them were perfect. The one in her price range was practically in the suburbs, and two other ones were in the right location, but expensive.
"Hann, what are you doing here?" A woman asked excitedly.
Hannah jerked her head up to look at the bubbly girl who'd just walked in. She'd met Nancy Valero when they waitressed together three years before. They hadn't exactly kept in touch, but every time Nancy saw her, she acted like Hannah was her long lost sister. The last time she and Nancy had seen each other, Hannah had just moved in with Morgan.
Hannah set her phone down and tried to stay calm. She hadn't cried in front of anyone yet. In fact, she hadn't cried at all after that first night. No, the betrayal had rocketed right past grief and into anger.
But Nancy didn't need to know that. She was tugging on the arm of a dopey looking guy with a long face and ears that practically stuck out past his shoulders. Hannah really didn't get it. She'd been with guys before, but both of them had been exceptionally good looking, funny, smart, and just about textbook perfect. She couldn't imagine being as giddy as Nancy was about any guy.
Not when girls existed.
Thinking about girls brought her back around to thinking about Morgan, which just made everything worse. She forced those depressing thoughts away and answered Nancy. "Just hanging out. What about you?" She could have kicked herself for asking. She just wanted Nancy to go away, she didn't wa
nt to chat.
But Nancy took it for an invitation and slid into the booth facing her. Her boyfriend came with. "Me and Jake are out celebrating our anniversary. We just moved in together, can you believe it?" Jake looked happy and content to let Nancy do all the talking.
"I didn't know you were seeing anyone." Was this some sort of cosmic joke? Hannah was not in the mood to celebrate an acquaintance’s new found love.
Nancy glanced down and blushed, but she didn't stop grinning. "Sometimes you just know that it's right." But as she caught sight of Hannah's phone, the grin slipped from her face and she grew serious. "Do you and Megan... no, that's not it! Sorry, Morgan, need a place to stay? I thought her aunt gave you a deal on that apartment?" This was Nancy's specialty and why she had so many casual friends, she remembered the details and remembered to ask.
Hannah did not want to talk about it. She hadn't been able to tell anyone at work and her best friend was currently living in Africa with limited access to the internet. She wasn't going to tell her mother - who'd warned her against jumping into the relationship - and her father's ghost was rarely helpful.
She could feel tears welling but she would not cry again. She was done with that. But all the emotion was bottled up inside of her and it needed to come out somehow. If she didn't spit the words out, the waterworks would start. And somehow, confessing her failure to a distant acquaintance and that acquaintance's boyfriend was the better alternative to crying.
"We broke up," she said. And then the whole story came out. Everything from buying the carnations to finding Morgan in bed with a man. When she finished, explaining quietly that she needed to move out, she felt better. It wasn't like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but the knot that had been tied tight over her heart for the past few days eased and she felt like they could breathe.
It was a start.
Nancy reached out and squeezed her hand. "You know, I think I might be able to help."
"How?" It wasn't like she could turn back time and stop Hannah from finding Morgan like that. And if she did, Hannah wouldn't want it. She'd need to use the time machine to stop Morgan from cheating in the first place.
