Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Shit!
The electric bills always went to Jared’s office, which is a moot point where they were mailed because it’s not like I could pay them if they came to me. “Wait, please. Can you just put it back on now, and I promise I’ll sort it out with your office first thing tomorrow?” I don’t exactly know how I plan on sorting it out, but at the very least, I can buy myself some more time and some more power I can’t afford.
He shuffles backward, packing up his tools. “Sorry ma’am. I can’t afford to lose my job in this economy. I have to follow the rules. Got a family to take care of. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, you having this nice house and all, I’m sure you’ll get it sorted out quickly. In the meantime, why don’t you stay at one of the nice hotels nearby until we can get back out here.”
Wouldn’t that be nice. My credit cards were all company cards, and they’re maxed out.
As much as I wish this was a misunderstanding, it’s not. It’s the universe literally turning the lights out on my life.
I nod, and offer the man a small smile, finding myself unable to argue with someone who is just doing his job to support his family. “I understand. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
He hands me a piece of paper. “I was going to attach this to the door, but since you’re here.” I take it. “Have a good day, ma’am.”
He gets back in his truck and takes off down the road. I go back inside the house, but it’s too dark to read the paper. So, I step out onto the back lanai.
DISCONNECT NOTICE. 90 DAYS PAST DUE.
Ninety days! It goes on to say that the amount has to be paid in full, plus the reconnection fees in order to get the electric back on. The grand total is $3,876.24.
“Fuuuuucccckkkk!” I scream, crumpling the paper and throwing it into the dark pool. I don’t have that kind of money.
I don’t have any money.
I go back inside to find the hurricane kit, which hopefully contains a working flashlight or some electric candles. The only current light in the dark space comes courtesy of my phone currently vibrating across the hall table.
YULI: If that’s what you really want, then I’ll be there in twenty minutes. But are you sure about not going to the party? Nurse Yuli thinks a little fun is just the prescription you need right about now.
Fun. Ha! Fun seems like an impossible concept, but I also can’t let Yuli come here and see that the electricity has been shut off. I don’t need her worried about me before her trip. Or worse, not going at all. And I don’t want to sit in the dark by myself either.
ME: Come pick me up in twenty minutes.
Remembering the lights, I send one more.
ME: I’ll wait for you by the gate.
“I thought you said that we’re going to a party?” I ask as our Uber turns onto the main road.
“We are,” Yuli replies, but there’s something she’s not telling me. I know this because she keeps looking out the window to avoid making eye contact with me.
“Then, why are you dressed like that?” I point to her ripped jeans and the cropped short sleeved jean jacket she’s wearing over a low-cut white tank. She looks funky and casual while I look ready to attend The Logan’s Beach orchestra’s final performance of the season.
She turns her attention away from the window and smiles guiltily. “Because I never mentioned what kind of party we’re going to,” she sings wickedly.
I look out the window and notice we are on the causeway. “Yuli! Where exactly are you taking me?” I’ve had enough of that side for a while. Not that Yuli knows anything about that.
“A party, just like I told you.”
“And where exactly is this party?” I press.
“Oh, you know, just a hop, skip, and a jump over the causeway. Nothing to worry about, Lenny. It’s not like you’re not going to get initiated into a biker gang. Well, at least not on your first night, you gotta earn that honor,” she teases, nudging my shoulder.
I don’t laugh. Not because it isn’t funny—it is—but right now, I’m numb all over, including my funny bone.
“Len, it’s just a bonfire. We always used to talk about going to parties on the other side with real people who don’t want to talk about portfolios and numbers and decorating and blah blah blaaahhhh. I wanted us to do something different on my last night. I’ll be gone for a year, and I don’t want to spend my last few hours at one of those business mixers or one of Lori’s boring-ass dinner parties or at the dull as fuck martini bar. Shit, we party like we’re fifty, and we’re only in our mid-twenties. Let’s act like it for once. Let’s live a little.” She raises one eyebrow. “Unless, you think you’re too good for the folk on this side,” she teases.