by Jami Wagner
“I don’t own a coffeepot,” Lennox says behind me. She grabs a bottle of orange juice from inside the fridge and then pulls a glass from the cupboard. She’s completely showered and dressed, minus a pair of shoes. She leans against the counter, placing one foot against the calf of her opposite leg. Her pink toenails stand out. It’s cute.
“Who doesn’t own a coffeepot?” I ask. Staring at her toes is beginning to weird me out. Nothing about Lennox is cute. Her damn toes annoy me just as much as when she finds the stupidest thing to argue with me about.
“Me.”
“Care to tell me why?”
“Nope.”
She gulps down her glass of juice and puts the carton back.
“I have classes every day until at least three, and when I have breaks, I usually study at the library. I work Monday through Thursday nights and every other Sunday. When I work nights, I won’t be home until after nine. I’m usually gone on Saturday afternoons for a few hours for personal reasons.”
“Cool.” Her schedule means nothing to me.
She narrows those chocolate eyes at me. Busted.
“When I come home late, I study. I don’t want people here, and parties and women aren’t allowed.”
By women, I assume she means Sydney.
“Got it?” she asks.
Rules. Great. This should be fun.
“Sure, whatever.”
Hopefully I won’t be here longer than a few weeks. I’ll find something else.
“What’s your schedule? I like my privacy, and I’ll assume you do, too. If we set something up to where we aren’t always here at the same time, I think that will be much better.”
“Considering I don’t have a schedule, I’ll just stick to my room and leave you to it.”
“Well, which nights do you work? So I know when to expect someone.”
“Which nights do I work?” I ask and try not to laugh.
Truth be told, I’m still expecting my parents to change their mind. It’s been two weeks and I haven’t asked for a single thing. They’ll see I’m trying and forget this whole thing soon enough.
“Yeah, where are you working, and when do you work?” Lennox repeats.
Winston told me to be prepared for this question and that I should answer it very carefully, but I’m not Winston, and I don’t care what Lennox thinks of me.
“I don’t,” I say and open another cupboard to find cereal at least.
“Don’t what?” she asks.
“I don’t work.”
“Today?” Her voice is higher this time.
“Or any day,” I add.
“What the heck?” she shouts, and I swear I hear her foot stomp on the ground. I glance around the cabinet door. Her hands are on her hips, and her gaze is seething.
“Why the hell did you move in if you don’t have a job?”
“Because I also didn’t have a place to live, but thank you for reminding me of that fun fact about my life.”
My comment doesn’t even faze her, which pisses me off even more. If she has a heart, she doesn’t know when to use it. She doesn’t know anything about me, and she’s acting like me not having a job is the end of the world.
“So you’re going to get a job then.”
“Maybe,” I grunt, turning for my room. I’ve lost my appetite.
“If you’re not going to get a job, consider selling your car. You could almost pay for a four- year degree with that thing.”
I twist around so fast she stumbles back. “I’m not selling my car,” I say firmly. It’s the one thing in my life right now that reminds me of how all this could be worse and that it’s only temporary.
“You can’t live here if you don’t pay rent, Tripp.”
“Then I’ll happily move out.” This was a total joke of an idea anyway. I don’t know why I thought it could work. I only said yes because I didn’t want to overstay my welcome with Mark and Winston. Clearly, I need a new idea.
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
She slams her door, so I slam mine.
I pick up my phone to call Winston and ask him how the hell he thought this idea was a smart one when I get a message stating that my wireless service has been canceled.
“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fist into the mattress.
I’m going to have to get a job.
How the hell am I going to do that? I have zero experience doing anything.
The door to the apartment slams shut.
Well, I know who I won’t be asking for help.
I gather my books and look out the window to make sure Lennox is a good distance down the street before I leave.
Instead of heading to class, I drive to Mark and Winston’s dorm.
I barely shift the gear into park outside their building when Sydney comes bouncing up to my car. We haven’t spoken much in the last couple weeks—not for her lack of trying.
“Hey, Tripp.” She smiles and leans in for a kiss. “I’ve been trying to call you, and I even stopped by your place, but your neighbor said you moved.”
She doesn’t even look mad the way most girls would when a guy ignores them. The last thing I need is a girl mad that I didn’t pay her enough attention.
“Yeah,” I start, rubbing my neck. “I moved.”
“That’s okay. Just let me know where, and I’ll be there. Do you want to go to the club for lunch?” she asks.
“Look, Syd, I won’t be going to club anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t exactly afford it anymore.”
Saying the words out loud wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.
She steps back. “Why?”
“My parents cut me off, and until I have a job, I don’t have any money.”
She nods. “So that’s it for us?”
I stand straighter and meet her gaze. How did she get that from what I just said?
“Huh?”
“Tripp,” she starts and smiles, tilting her head. “You know the arrangement we had even if we never verbally said it.”
It’s true. I just never expected her to end whatever this was just because I didn’t have money anymore. Or maybe I did.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll see you around?” she asks.
“Sure.” I lean back against my car as she leaves.
It wasn’t anything huge, and it isn’t as though my heart is breaking, but it does make me think. How much of my life was real, and how much of it was money?
I know what I want the answer to be, and there is only one way to make that happen.
I have to get a job and I’ll have to make amends with Lennox to keep my room.
The best place to start is by showing up to class.
I glance at my watch. Class started ten minutes ago.
Lennox
I set my pen down and glance up as I shift to move out of my seat. That wasn’t the easiest test I’ve ever taken, but studying helped. I walk toward the professor’s desk and pause. Everyone else in the class is still seated with their heads down.
Did I skip something? Did I rush it? I glance up again to see a girl rising. Okay. I’m good. If someone else is done then I most likely didn’t rush through it.
She places her exam on top of mine and returns to her chair for her things. We end up walking out of the classroom together. Once the door closes behind me, she turns and asks, “Did you make up as many answers as I did?”
I freeze and shake my head.
“Oh, well, guess we’ll see, huh?” she says and walks off.
Shoot. Am I sure I didn’t miss something? Was it too easy because I answered everything wrong? I knew I should have studied more this morning. I would have, too, if my new roommate hadn’t found the number one way to get under my skin. I mean, that guy talks and I get irritated.
I glance back to the door, ready to yank it open if I still can.
Too late now. Once the door is closed, you can’t go back in until the class is over
.
With a deep breath, I walk away from the door. I have too much going on to worry about one single test. I need to find a new roommate. And I somehow need to convince Professor Turner to give me a new partner or let me do the work solo since Tripp didn’t show up again. He is probably the most selfish person I know. He’s never had to worry about anything or anyone but himself. If I could punch him in the face and have him blink himself into a kind, caring, and punctual person, I would.
“Hey, Lennox,” Winston says as I approach him on the bench outside the admin building—our usual spot. “How’s the new roommate?”
“Moving out,” I deadpan. I don’t want to go into detail since the two of them are friends, and the fact Tripp and I can’t get along is enough. Winston doesn’t need me to sit here telling him bad things and putting him in an awkward position between his friends.
Winston makes a yikes! face and points to the seat next to him.
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, Lennox.”
“So.” I shrug. “He made it clear this morning that he has zero plans to get a job.” I need to cool my tone. This isn’t Winston’s fault. Although he was the one to suggest the idea.
Winston nods. “I’m sure he’ll come around. You should give him a chance at the very least. Like, say, give him one week. If he hasn’t found a job in one week, you can kick him out.”
“I’m not giving him a second chance, Winston. He’s too stubborn and already stressing me out. I knew this was a bad idea.”
“More stubborn than you?” He chuckles, and I punch his shoulder.
“Why does he even need a place to stay? I thought he lived in the condos on the east side of town with his maid and his Range Rover.”
“Jealous?” Winston asks.
“Hardly.”
“Be honest, Lennox, you’ll always have something against people with money because you don’t have any.”
“Wow, don’t hold back.”
“Hey, I’m your friend, and I know you a lot better than you think I do. This person Tripp was telling me about this morning who yells and swears and stomps her foot doesn’t sound like the Lennox I know.”
“He told you about this morning?”
“Yes, after he showed up at my dorm because his phone was shut off.”
Now he doesn’t have a phone either? That’s it. There is something going on that they aren’t telling me. After agreeing to let him move in, I should have a right to know why.
“Why does he need a place to live, Winston? And why did his phone get shut off?”
Winston faces forward and releases his signature sigh. “It’s not my place to tell you that.”
“But you know why?”
He nods.
“Is it bad?”
“He lost his apartment, Lennox, what do you think?” Winston’s says with the snippy tone he uses only when he’s getting annoyed. After a long sigh he says, “I know you don’t like him, Lennox. We all know, but he’s one of my best friends, and if I could give him a place to stay that wasn’t on the floor next to my bed, I would. He just needs a little help right now, all right? I hate to see him struggle. If the roles were reversed, I’d be begging him to let you move in, too, you know.”
Damn it, Winston.
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “He gets one week. That’s it,” I say. “Not a day more.”
Please don’t let me regret this.
“There’s the Lennox I know,” Winston says, tossing his arms around my shoulders to pull me in close. He kisses the top of my head and stands.
“I have to get to class, but we are all going to dinner at Plum’s later. You’re coming, right?” he asks.
“Is Tripp going?”
Winston sighs. “No.”
“Then I’ll be there.” I smile big and pull out my chem book to get in a little studying during my free period.
If I’m going to make this work with Tripp, being around him as little as possible is how that’s going to happen.
I get about three pages read before my peace is interrupted.
“I thought you studied in the library?”
My attention is still on the book as I roll my eyes.
“I make it work where I can.”
Tripp doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a seat next to me. Once, I only suffered with seeing him in class. I never saw him by chance without the group, and now, he’s everywhere I turn.
“Look, about his morning—” he starts.
“I don’t want your apology, Tripp. I just want you to get a job and do your half of everything, okay?”
“So, I can stay?”
This time I look up. Of everything I just said, he heard only that part.
“As long as you get a job,” I repeat. I know I sound like a real snot right now, but I only agreed to let him move in because I needed someone to ease my stress, and all he’s done this far is add more.
“I’ll start looking first thing tomorrow.”
I shove my book closed and grab my bag.
“Sounds great,” I say and start to head toward my apartment.
“Hey, Lennox,” Tripp calls out.
I pause. Pre-roommate Lennox would just keep walking. God, I miss her already. I turn to look at him.
He’s standing now, his hand stuffed in his front pockets. “Thanks,” he says quickly and turns to head in the opposite direction.
Of course he gets to have the last word. That gives him the upper hand at home. I’d scream something out right now if it wouldn’t make me look like an idiot.
I spin back around. I just need some quiet time in my apartment to get my focus back. I’ll study, and it will go smoothly, and then I’ll go to Plum’s and hang out with my friends and come home and go to bed, and I won’t see Tripp at all for the rest of the day.
“Hey,” Kass shouts, waving and doing this whole gallop thing across the grass from her dorm building.
Does no one have class right now except Winston?
“Hey,” I say slowly, noticing the giant grin on her face. “What?”
“A little birdy told me that you got a new roommate.” Her smile grows, and her shoulders do this little bop thing side to side.
Her reaction is a total one-eighty from my own.
“It’s not much to smile about,” I tell her.
She loops her arm through mine, and we fall into step. I still have to pass the guys’ dorm building, which, I’m sure, is how far Kass will be walking.
“I just think it’s awesome that even though you hate him so much, you’re willing to help.”
Hate is such a strong word. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said I hate Tripp.
“I don’t hate him. I can’t stand him. There is a difference,” I clarify.
“Still, I mean, going from Mr. Money Bags to broke doesn’t sound easy or fun. He’s smart, but he’ll struggle. You’re the best one of all of us to teach him the ways, and oh, there’s Mark,” Kass says, releasing my arm and heading toward her boyfriend. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she shouts, right before Mark swoops her in for a kiss.
Her words sink in. Tripp doesn’t have any more money? I guess, yeah, I assumed as much from him moving in with me of all people, but still. Does he even know how go about making money? And by no money, like, is he not going to get any more and has to save, or is it all gone?
Crap. Crap. Crap. Now, whether he gets a job or not, and no matter how much I’d want to kick him out, I can’t do that.
Shit. I’m so totally screwed. And apparently, so is he.
Chapter Five
Tripp
Nothing in my life is normal anymore.
It’s finally the weekend, and I’m glad because I need the break. I’ve spent the last two days going to class and, when I’m not in class, looking for a job. Turns out, the good jobs that pay more than ten bucks an hour like experience, and I don’t have any. Even though I’m sure I could learn fairly quickly, they don’t care. The other p
laces … well, turns out they don’t like it when you tell them their place of business isn’t worth the crap pay they’re offering.
You’d think today would be the ideal day to job search, but it’s not. I need to regroup or something and really think this through. The job needs to be a good one, one that, worst case, will last me a few years at least.
Before I can start my relaxing day off, I’m hoping I can make it to the kitchen and back without Lennox asking me if I got a job yet. If she isn’t telling me that I washed my plate wrong, I left the seat up in the bathroom again, or that I can’t leave my shoes in front of the door, she’s quizzing me about the job I’ve yet to find.
I sneak out of my room, my stomach growling loudly as I make way down the hall.
Lennox is sitting on the couch in the living room, books all around her, headphones on and a pen moving quickly in her right hand as she writes something down in the notebook in her lap. She’s got on a T-shirt that reads “Got Books?” and gray sweats. Her hair is pulled into a messy blob on top of her head. It’s nine in the morning. How long has she been like this?
Doesn’t matter. I’m not asking. Get in, get out, and make zero noise is the plan right now.
Quietly and very slowly, I open one cupboard. Oatmeal.
Another. Goldfish crackers.
I hear the faint noise of something vibrating and pause, my arm midair reaching for the next cabinet.
“Hello?” Lennox says. “Hey, how are you? Yes … mmm hmm. Okay, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
I wait patiently, still not moving, for the perfect time to peek around to see if she put her headphones back on. The apartment is so quiet I swear I can hear my own heart beating, and it’s a lot louder than I’d expected.
“Are you even breathing in there?” she asks.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“You’re out of bread.” I poke my head around the kitchen corner. She’s still taking notes.
“We’re,” she says, not even looking up from her spot on the couch as she flips the page of the paper. Who even reads an actual newspaper anymore? Everyone I know just uses their phones to keep up with the news.
“What?” I ask.
