Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“And?” I whisper.
He crosses his arms over his chest and his expression flatlines. “Nothing.” He says it in a way that abandons the actual meaning of that word.
And he keeps saying that: Nothing.
Whatever’s going on with him, I can’t worry too much about it right now. He’s not even supposed to be here.
“Emergency contacts are in here with some helpful information in case I missed something.” Jake flips a page. “Right, so we only have off-street parking. Street sweepers come Wednesday mornings, so you’ll have to move your car somewhere else tomorrow.”
“No worries,” Hailey says, reading his binder upside down. She reaches over and flips a page for him and keeps reading. “We’re just happy we could find a place in Victoria. Options were really limited.”
I look around again. Twelve hundred a month?
I start disbelieving.
“Everything rents out quick because of Caufield,” Jake explains and watches Hailey flip another page. “Fall semester starts next week.”
“Then why is your place still available?” Rocky asks skeptically. He leans casually beside a bookshelf with classic hardcovers.
Jake motions to Hailey. “Like I told your sister over the phone, we just finished renovations on this place. It was only online for about an hour before she called about it.”
So it is new?
I try to catch Hailey’s eyes, but she avoids my gaze.
“Your credit turned out great, and we prefer working professionals. Students tend to trash the place. So it was a plus that you’re twenty-four and already graduated college.”
“We actually . . . didn’t graduate,” Hailey admits slowly. “We’re high school graduates, basically.” She gives him a slight smile and does this weird breathy laugh that I fucking mimic. I kid you not.
Rocky is trying so hard to smother a smirk that he rotates to inspect the stupid fireplace.
I blame the fact that nine times out of ten, we’ve been Ivy League grads. I know way too much about Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Penn, etc.—from their mottos, their common hangouts, their best dining halls, anything that I can use to strengthen the lie that I went there.
Jake gives us a sympathetic look.
Like we’re embarrassed to only wield high school diplomas.
“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he mentions.
“Oh, you should have,” Rocky butts in, his arm on the fireplace mantel. “Except assumed the other way around.”
I shoot him a glare.
“They could’ve gone to a community college,” Jake tells him.
“Oh, thanks,” Hailey mutters.
Jake regroups fast, holding out a hand. “Not that there is anything wrong with community college. I’m sure it’s a great form of education.”
Rocky is laughing.
“Can you stop?” Jake retorts.
“I don’t know, can you?” Rocky questions. “The hole you’re digging is big enough for a body—”
“So you’ll be leaving by Friday?” Jake cuts him off with heat.
Humor fades from Rocky’s face. “Not by Friday.”
It’s only Tuesday.
Jake closes the binder and slowly looks to me. “If your ex-husband stays for longer than a week, this isn’t going to work out. This place isn’t big enough for three tenants.”
My gut drops. “He’s not living with us.” I swing my head to Rocky. “You’ll be out by Friday.”
He narrows his gunmetal eyes at me. “I’m not letting my sister get murdered by Patrick Bateman.”
Jake glowers back. “Really? Patrick Bateman? Clever.”
Rocky stands off the fireplace. “I don’t know you, so I can’t trust you, and I’m assuming that feeling is mutual.”
Jake doesn’t deny.
The fact that Jake hasn’t kicked us out is truly a miracle at this point. He could rent this place to anyone else, and it’d be less trouble than dealing with Rocky.
“You don’t have to trust him,” I tell Rocky. “He’s not your landlord.” Normally, Rocky is easy to get along with. (Unless you’re me.) To strangers, he’s charming, even. I’m not sure why he’s showing Jake his actual Brillo-pad personality. I turn back to my landlord. “Thank you for everything, seriously. We’re really happy to be here.”
Hailey puts a hand on the binder. “Appreciate the notes.”
“I’m glad they could help.” Jake eases for half a second. “But seriously, guests shouldn’t be here more than a week. If he’s not out by next Tuesday, you’ll breach the lease, and I’ll have to kick you out.”
Fuck.
“Understood,” Hailey says.
He looks to Rocky. “I’ll be back to check.”
“Counting on it,” Rocky says dryly.
Jake glares, then slides over some papers on the counter. “Sign here. I’ll also need the first two months’ rent up front. Check or Venmo work.”
Hailey skims through the paperwork, speed-reading.
I ask Jake, “What was rent again?” My chest constricts like I’m waiting for a rubber band to snap.
“Three thousand a month.”
I restrain a wince. Train, meet my face. The impact hurts.
Hailey slides me a subtle look that says, We’ve got this. Her silent optimism does nothing to quench the unease in my stomach. Especially since I’m now a hundred percent positive that she lied to me. What were the photos she showed me?