Good Girl (Alphahole Roommates 2)

I tilt my head curiously.

Austin gets out of the back seat.

Austin? What? What on earth?

His eyes flash with anger as they bounce between me and Andrew, sitting side-by-side on my front step.

He licks his teeth behind his upper lip as he strides toward me.

I stand up.

“Hi. Um, what’s up?” I ask.

“Austin,” Andrew greets.

Austin shoots Andrew a look of annoyance. “Hey, man. Jada, can I talk to you?”

I look between the two of them.

Andrew smiles at me.

Austin’s face is on the verge of melting not just paint – concrete.

“Um, to be completely honest, you’ve both shown up here after ten o’clock at night unannounced and my father’s sitting in there in a snit, and… uh, I have stuff to do before I crash, so I’m sorry, but…gotta say goodnight to you both.”

“Come see me tomorrow,” Austin says, eyes blazing at me and his voice in that commanding Austin Groucho the Third tone. I have to fight to stand tall and not just fall to my knees at his feet. Crumbling? Submitting? No idea which it’d be. Why does looking at him hurt right now?

“I have stuff on the go tomorrow. I…”

“You need to come to the apartment and see me. It’s important,” he states. “Doesn’t matter what time. Whenever you can come. Just text when you’re on the way.”

“Let’s just do this now then.”

“No,” his eyes flash with annoyance, “You’re right. It’s late. Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I reply. “Maybe you guys can share a cab back.”

“I don’t live in Central Park West, Jada,” Andrew says, smiling big, like it’s the biggest joke going. “I share a small basement apartment with one tiny window with two other guys. Oh hey… I wanted to ask if that check cleared for that deadbeat boss. I mean, the other one. Other boss, I mean.” He shoots Austin an apologetic look.

“Yeah. No problems,” I say.

“What?” Austin asks, shooting Andrew a death-glare.

I wave my hand. “My old boss from the coffee cart paid me. It’s a long story. Guys, I’m goin’ in. Thanks for checking in but my hands are full here, so…” I let that hang and grab the door handle.

“Goodnight, Jada,” Andrew says. “I got the Starbucks girl to write my number on your cup. Call me if you need anything.”

“Oh…” I examine the cup. It’s darkish out here but yep, there’s a phone number written in black marker down the side.

Austin’s doing something on his phone. “I got a rideshare coming for us. I’ll drop you off, Andrew.”

“That’s all right, buddy, like I said, I don’t live near you.”

“It’s all right. I’ll go out of my way,” Austin tells him, and Austin’s voice has taken on a slightly dangerous tone.

I think Austin has the wrong idea about Andrew and me and he wants Andrew leaving no later than he does.

“No need. I’ll just head out on foot now. Good night, guys.”

“Congrats on the part. Good night,” I say and without giving Austin time alone with me, I go inside and immediately lock the door.

A minute later, I’m peeking out from behind the broken set of blinds on the window beside the door.

He’s getting into a white car. He looks back and sees me standing there as he pulls away.

Why did he come here?

What would’ve happened if Andrew hadn’t been here?

I go into the living room and my father is sleeping in his chair.

I jiggle his shoulder.

“Dad?”

“Lindsay?” Dad grumbles and his face goes pained.

The look on his face is physically painful for me to witness.

Lindsay is my mother’s name.

“Dad?” I urge, jiggling him again.

Dad sits up straighter. “What?”

“You were sleeping. You wanna go to bed and get more comfortable?”

“I gotta catch my news.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed. Night.”

“Yep.”

I sigh and head up the stairs.

My phone dings in my pocket so I slide it out when I get into my old room.

Austin: What the fuck was the security guard doing there?

I blink in surprise.

Me: He’s my friend. He was checking to see if I’m ok and he came to share some good news.

Austin: Your friend?

Me: Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.

Austin: He wants into your pants.

“What and you don’t” I ask the screen instead of texting it.

I roll my eyes and flop onto the creaky old bed. I’m sleeping like garbage here. Not only because of the crap-tastic shit-storm that’s my life right now, but also because this bed has been in this room since I was twelve years old when Dad bought it for me because my old bed had a spring coming through. Dad bitched and complained about paying for this mattress, too, like it cost him the last two dimes he’d ever make.

It was a white-on-white silky floral pattern and I’d thought it was so beautiful when I first got it. Now it’s kind of a beigey color. And uncomfortable.

I lay down for a minute and Groucho texts again, giving me both dread and a thrill altogether.