Chapter One

Fifteen Years Ago

Hidden in the Dark

The musty smell of old clothes from last year is thick and stifling. I want to push them down the rail but I know better than to risk making noise.

Thin slits of gray light filter into the dark stinky space. I hate the dark; it’s creepy.  I’m glad I have a little bit of light in here.

“You stupid bitch!”

I cover my ears, tugging my bony knees tighter into my chest as the shouts grow louder down the short narrow hallway that leads to the kitchen. There’s a crash then a big thump of something heavy hitting the cheap linoleum floor. I hope it isn’t her.

I hate it when she falls down.

Present Day

Jamie

Nothing like remaining conscious straight through the transition from shit-faced-drunk to hungover. It’s like I’ve been stuck in this room for years, staring at the slender tanned arm draped across my chest. But I’m not dealing with the owner of said arm before I absolutely have to.

“Hey sleeping fugly!” The unmistakable thump of a small fist pounding on the door follows my evil ginger sprite of a friend’s warning. “You’re going to be late.” 

“I’m talking to you Shauna,” Nina adds with a derisive snicker.

This should be fun.

  I run an exhausted hand down my face, bracing myself for the hell I’m going to catch for last night. We didn’t fuck; despite Shauna’s best efforts. But I’m sure that little detail won’t stop her from throwing a heaping pile of shit into the fan.

A fresh wave of bangs pound the door, the racket now carrying a distinctive metallic ring to it. Nina must have moved on to the pots and pans stage of her performance. If I don’t get going in the next minute she’ll barge in with a bucket of ice to throw over our heads.

“Move it!”

“Oh my god!” Shauna groans beside me, before popping up with caked mascara smudged over her scowling face. “Get bent Nina! You don’t even live here, you loud bitch!”

“Neither do you, sewer urchin,” she barks back. “Now get up and get out.” 

I don’t need to see Nina’s face to know she’s rolling her eyes so hard her head is falling back from the force of the action. A second later her footsteps retreat towards the kitchen where she’s probably returning to her task of stringing along my roommate, Luke.

“Ugh, how can you hang out with that girl? She’s awful,” Shauna grumbles snuggling back into my pillow like she’s planning on staying a while.

Can’t have that. “Get out.” 

Where the fuck did I leave my pants? I need to grab a shower before work and Nina doesn’t want to see my briefs on the way to the bathroom. 

“What?” Shauna’s suddenly small voice momentarily pulls me from my mission to get my ass covered. All of her vicious bravado from a second ago, gone. I have no idea who she thinks she’s fooling. She doesn’t have a meek (or nice) bone in her body.

“You deaf?” My eyes finally land on a pair of gray sweats at the foot of the bed. I pull them on and head for the door. “And apologize to Neen on the way out.”

A studded boot flies past my head and hits the wall as I leave the room. I pull the door closed behind me, looking down the hallway into the main area of the apartment, and sure enough, Nina is digging through our damn freezer.

“Hey Little Red,” Luke chuckles around a handful of jellybeans. “You can put the ice back. He’s up.”

He knows damn well I never went to sleep, he’s just playing along for Nina’s sake.

“Cutting it close. You gotta be there in fifteen.”

Shit, that is tight. It should be okay though. One of the perks of bartending a block away, is being able to shit, shower, shave, and still make it to work on time.

“I’ll be quick.”

“You got mail!” He holds up a blue envelope covered in stamps.

“Toss it. It’s junk.”

Luke’s attempt to frown around a fresh handful of candy is interrupted when Shauna comes stomping out of the room and smacks me hard across the face. My head whips to the side but otherwise, I don’t react to the outburst. 

“Go to hell, Jamie Delahunt!” She shrieks before continuing to the front door. “You can tell Ryan I quit.”

“You won’t be missed,” Luke says under his breath.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Nina uses one hand to twiddle her fingers at our now ex-coworker as she storms out while pointing at me with her other. “Keep your night open after your shift. Our new neighbor moves in today.” 

Ah shit, that’s today? 

“I’m serious,” she warns, raising her voice over the front door slamming shut. “You better come right back after work and don’t be a douche! I want this girl to feel welcome here.”

I give a tired salute for an answer before charging into the bathroom to wash Shauna’s sweaty desperation off me as fast as possible. 

After the long ass night I had dodging her tongue, the idea of playing-welcome-to-the-neighborhood with whoever is moving in downstairs, sounds about as pleasant as a rectal cyst, but the tenacious demon woman hanging out in my kitchen will make my life a living hell if I do anything that will cost her a potential BFF.  

I don’t know when we actually became friends, she was always around growing up, getting in the way at her father’s gym, and tagging along with her older brothers, but since I moved into Townsend House, I’ve learned like everyone else in her life that it’s easier to just do what she says the first time she asks.

And tonight, she wants me to make a good impression on our new neighbor.

No sooner were the renovations on the apartment finished that it was scooped up, sight unseen, by some chick in California. She’s been paying rent on it for the past six months, had the place painted and furnished in early spring but is only now moving in. She’s obviously rich to be able to afford it (even at the crazy discounted price for the units in the building), and to pay for it remotely... I’d bet my left nut she’s also an entitled little shit.

After all, Roosevelt Square is the richest neighborhood in Huntingdon City.

I check my phone and groan.

Ah shit, I’m down to five minutes.

*******

Eva

“We’re here Miss.”

A bubble of panic pushes up my throat. My eyes dart around the street, not really landing on a given spot long enough to take in details. I think it’s pretty? But who knows, I can’t really concentrate over the roar of blood pumping in my ears.

Oh my god, I’m here. I’m here....

With trembling fingers, I reach into my wallet and pay the cab driver then take a very deep centering breath before I open the car door and go to war getting my luggage out of the trunk. By the time I plant my sweaty palm against the warm metal and slam the door down in victory, my heart is racing with a not-entirely-unpleasant combination of terror and hope,  as I spin towards the hundred-year-old brown stone town manor I now call home.

Dear lord, the pictures online did not do this place justice.

Townsend House is breathtaking. The wide front steps lead the eye to a set of black lacquered front doors. Tilting my head back, I take in the large bay windows; perfectly stacked up the left side of the facade. Flowerbeds sit beneath the panes of polished glass, each one overflowing with purple and yellow petunias. The vibrant colors pop against the dark earthy stone giving the whole building a welcoming feel. 

And when my gaze reaches the third floor… 

That window is mine.

I’ve yet to take my first step from the curb and I already feel home. Crazy, considering I never felt much of anything in the house I spent my whole life in. Though in all fairness, the airport felt more like home than that soulless pile of polished bricks.

Shaking off the sad sterile reality of my former residence, I tug in a fortifying breath and heft my bags up; ready to begin the journey up to the steps with my mountain of luggage over my shoulders. As I battle my way onward, I daydream about my new apartment and starting my new life and finally becoming a new me. 

A cool me.

A fun me.

By the grace of God, I reach the top step. Now I just need to get inside without dropping everything.

 “Commonn,” I whimper, wrestling with the strap of my duffle while using my foot to keep my overstuffed suitcases steady on the step beside me. “Damnit, why didn’t I just ship this stuff—"

Several things happen at once:

The door flies open, hitting me right in the face. Hard.

Pain zings through my cheek and eye.

I stumble back a step dropping my heaviest suitcase with the rest of my load promptly following suit. 

A warm broad chest, that smells of crisp fresh water and soap, pushes by me.

“Watch it,” grunts the chest. The voice runs over my skin like a current, momentarily distracting me from the shooting pain in my face. My gaze lifts, only to catch the back of his head as he jogs down the steps. He’s so intent on getting a cigarette lit he doesn’t so much as spare a fleeting glance at the chaos he’s left behind. 

The guy is tall and built enough that his soft black T-shirt strains against the back of his shoulder blades. Vibrant tattoos crawl up the tanned skin of his arms and neck and my open eye struggles to find one image to focus on.

 “Ah, e-excuse me?” I call out, a little dazed from the hit. “Would you mind help—um—helping me with my things? Please?” I hate the stupid meek ring to my voice. But this is my default setting and Rome wasn’t built in a day.

So here we are.

He finally turns a bit, glancing halfheartedly over his shoulder—or maybe down the street, there’s a solid chance he didn’t hear me. The words to repeat myself dry to dust in my throat though when I catch the slice of his profile. That sliver of his face is handsome...

Like, fuck you up kind of handsome. 

His deep honey colored hair is cut high and left disheveled on the top. His jaw is strong and perfectly angled, supporting sharp cheekbones and dark brows that could have been carved in stone. Combine those features with everything happening below his face and it is all… a lot. I’m no expert, but I think he’s like sex on a stick or something. 

Without a word, he sparks up and strolls away. A trail of smoke winding through the thick late June air in his wake.

Did he seriously not realize he bumped into me?

I’m not that invisible.

Damnit, I just got here and I’ve already been mowed down by the first person I encountered. 

“You don’t have the spine for that city. Those people will eat you alive.” 

My shoulders slump at the memory of my father’s parting words. No well wishes or promises to call. Just a dismissive put down before he returned his attention to the more important newspaper. At least he acknowledged I was leaving. My mother just breezed by, too worried about missing Pilates class to stop and talk.

“It’s just a little hiccup,” I whisper, my unmentionables littered about for the world to see. “You’ll be fine. It’s not like everyone here is that rude. Society could never function under those conditions.” Best to banish the past two minutes along with the memory of my parents’ abject apathy to the back of my mind.

Wait.

I go very still, scanning my mess. Where’s Oscar?

“No, no, no…” 

Spotting the busted latch on my old sky blue suitcase has snapped, a heavy dread seizes my lungs. I scramble on my hands and knees across the strewn contents of my other busted bags to get to the mid century portable turntable fitted inside the paisley print suitcase. 

With trembling fingers, I unsnap the unbroken latch and hold my breath as I lift the lid.

Everything inside is as it should be.

I heave a shaky sigh of relief, resting back on my haunches as I hug the Teppaz Oscar turntable to my chest. All my other belongings can rot out here for all I care. 

But not my Oscar.

“Oh shit… doll, are you ok?” 

Before I can look up, pink patent leather stilettos are scurrying around my right and a stunning redhead drops down in front of me. She offers a bright smile and kind dark blue eyes as she begins gathering the rest of the spilled contents of my ruined luggage. 

“Thank you.” I return a smile of my own.

“No, problemooo,” She sings, looking happy as can be to be picking up a stranger’s shit off the front step. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor? I’m Nina Walsh.”

“Yes, ah...although I’d hoped to make a better first impression?” I cringe in real time to my response.

That wasn’t supposed to be a damn question.

Taking a deep breath, I concentrate on sounding confident. “I’m Evangeline — well, Eva,” no more, stuffy Evangeline St. Clair, I left that name back home. Pausing, my frantic snatching, I offer her my hand. 

She immediately gives it a quick shake but her bright expression clouds when her eyes land on my cheek. “Ouch. That looks like it stings.” 

“Oh...yeah.” My hand waves about, dismissing her concern. “I was so busy struggling with my luggage, I didn’t realize someone was coming out and the door kind of bumped me.”

She slows her work of gathering my things. 

“Just now?” There’s a weird edge to her voice, like she already knows something I don’t.

“Yeah,” I nod with a sheepish grin. “That’s how I ended up with all this mess.” 

Nina’s perfectly sculpted brows suddenly snap together as she takes an assessing look around the mess before bringing her narrowed eyes back to my face. She must see something she doesn’t like because a second later the woman is on her feet with one hand fisted on her hip, while the other waves about in outrage.

“Hold up.” There is a note of exasperation in her voice that I feel deep in my bones. “He hit you in the face with the door and didn’t stick around to help you clean up the mess?” 

How did she know it was a he?

My shoulders twitch into a tiny shrug. “I think he was in a hurry?” 

  She shakes her head and drops again to resume her task. “Damnit, Jamie.”

Does the chest have a name?

“Who—who’s that?” 

“Let me guess.” Her laugh is sarcastic and harsh as she begins shoving my clothes into a bag with a force that makes me happy she’s nowhere near Oscar. “The guy was tall, hot, covered in tattoos? Probably smoking like a chimney?”

Oof, nailed it.

Nina rolls her eyes so hard I worry for a second that those pretty midnight blues will get stuck in her head.

“Jamie Delahunt.  From the fourth floor.” She says with a sigh, once her eyeballs have returned to their natural position. “He’s the stunted dildo who smacked you with the door. Tell me he at least apologized!” Golden flecks of sunlight catch her hair through the canopy of oak trees as she stands with several of my bags under her arm and opens the door for me. 

“Oh well—he... I don’t think he realized what had happened.” I don’t want to bad mouth my neighbor, especially to someone who seems to know him well, but I also don’t want to lie. 

I settle for shifting the subject. 

“Nina, thank you so much for all of your help, but I don’t want to keep you—"

“No way am I letting you haul all this shit up three flights of steps by yourself.” She gestures for me to go ahead.

The moment I step through the doors, it’s like I’ve traveled back in time. A gorgeous stained-glass lunette above the doors cast rainbow light over the honeycomb tiled floors and wood accents. My luggage creates a dull echo as we begin the trek up, while she happily gives me the lay of the land.

  “This floor and downstairs both belong to Ryan. He owns the whole place and a few other properties here in Roosevelt Square. That’s right properties—plural. Oh, and The Underground down the street. Oh my god you have to check it out. I’ll have to get you there a night I’m working. It’s this really cool bar under a bodega. Right? So cool! Anyway, Ry is the actual best. A total sweetheart.”

The prospect of going to a bar sounds like fun. I’d assumed it wouldn’t be an option since I’m only twenty but maybe if I know the owner I can give it a try...I’ll need to add it to The List.

“This one is meee,” she sings as we round the first landing.

  I decide not to comment on the Happy Halloween welcome mat at her door in mid June. 

“You’re next, and the fourth floor is Jamie and Luke.” She must notice the stiffening of my shoulders at the mention of mister tall, douchey, and dangerous, because she quickly adds, “Luke is great. He's absolutely hilarious, super laid back… just a great guy.” 

Her voice gets a bit dreamy as she describes Luke, then sharpens with irony.

“And you’ll learn to ignore Jamie, that’s what the rest of us do. Seriously, I love that kid to death but he’s an asshole.” The last bit is almost wheezed out as the weight of my bags and the stairs do us in.

Against all odds, we make it to my door and spend a solid minute trying to catch our breath.  I fight viciously with the lock for what feels like a half hour before I finally get the damn door open, giving it a pathetic kick with my foot. 

“Welcome home!” She puffs with what I’m suspecting is her signature smile. It’s wide and pretty, curving perfectly along her heart shaped face until it reaches her eyes. I return it the best I can but it feels stiff as hell.

There is something relaxed, confident, and happy about Nina. The girl’s natural exuberance is exactly the type of personality I wish I had. I’d be happy with anything over my current social skill set akin to a confused squirrel. 

“Thank you so much. Please! Sit down, that trip had to be hard on you in those shoes.” I gesture over to the cream sofa, silently praying it was indeed just a gesture and not some kind of wild gesticulation. 

So squirrelly. 

“Not yet. We need to get some ice on that pretty face first.” She struts around the counter that looks into the kitchen, opening the stainless steel freezer to get ice.

  I take a tentative look around my new apartment. Everything is gray, white, or cream. The truly groundbreaking color scheme (insert facepalm), is paired with a distinctive lack of personality. Thank god the bones outshine my abysmal decorating, making the place feel warm and light.

I walk towards the low table by the front window, gently placing Oscar down and open his lid. The moment I have the one thing in my life with any sentimental value on display, something in my heart clicks into place.

This is my home.

Nina returns with some ice in a rag, setting it gently to my cheek. 

“Hopefully this helps,” she murmurs with that natural smile, then collapses onto the sofa, kicking off her shoes to make herself comfortable. 

We sit for another few minutes chatting after an awkward as hell start. I tell her how I’ve transferred to Julius University for the fall. I’m majoring in business but what I’m really excited for is minoring in Ballet at their esteemed Santiago School of Dance. 

She tells me she’s also twenty years old. She’s the youngest of three and the only female in her house growing up. She inherited her apartment from her grandmother. It’s rent controlled- which, from what she tells me, is a huge deal. She works as a waitress at Ryan’s bar part time and she loves Halloween.

“I pretty much plan my entire year around it,” she laughs.

That explains the welcome mat.

When she’s ready to leave she throws me a quick invite to a building get together later tonight. 

“It’s just a casual thing but it’d be great to get to meet everyone and I can fill you in on all the good gossip.” She rubs her hands together conspiratorially. “Just come on down whenever!” With that, the vibrant Nina Walsh slips her shiny stilettos back on her feet and struts out the door.

The apartment dims a bit in her absence.

I deflate my stressed-out lungs on a long puff of a sigh and make my way back to Oscar. Leaning down, I dig through the chest I had shipped here last month and flip through the records until I find the frayed sleeve of Edith Piaf’s greatest hits. 

Holding my breath, I lay the needle against the vinyl and wait. There didn’t seem to be any damage from the hit, but there’s no way to know for sure until I play a record. After a couple seconds of crackling air through the speaker, the needle finds its sweet spot, and then her voice, that reminds me of rich coffee, slips through the room. My eyes fall shut in relief as I sink onto the windowsill and try to enjoy the fact that I’m finally here.

So what that my first hour so far was a mixed bag. Nina seems great and my messy life is going to get better.

I’m going to be better.

I’m through existing as my parents’ greatest regret; stashed away in the back of the house lest they accidentally happen to remember I exist. The second the money hit my bank account, I took the spite trust my grandmother left me, packed my bags and got the hell out of dodge. Now it’s time to become a person I’m proud of, someone of substance.

Or at the very least someone confident enough to speak in appropriate sentences. 

A good place to start is going to this party and making actual friends. 

With my eyes fixed on the trees outside my window, I blindly dig into my purse and pull out my weathered master list of things I want to do. Unclipping the pen, I slowly press my thumb to the top; clicking it open. I could swear the snap of the spring releasing the ballpoint echoes through my living room as I lay it to the paper and cross off the first item.

It feels momentous. Like today wasn’t actually real until I put a line through the faded letters.

MOVE FAR AWAY

My pen hovering over the words scrolled in blue ink.

MAKE FRIENDS

If all goes well tonight, I may get to cross two things off my list in one day.