Aubrey rolls her navy-colored eyes at me in obvious annoyance. "That's a fuck no, Aub. That's a week of work." She points to the stacks of bills in my hands.
"Get the hell out of here. One week?" This was more money than I made in a year. With one stack of these bills, I could get everything I desperately needed right now but couldn't afford. "Why are you walking around with this much cash in New York City?"
Natalie walks to her room and returns with a familiar book. I hand her back the money after she sits next to me and flips open a weathered dictionary about nine inches thick. The middle is cut out, leaving a big, empty square. She places the money inside, then closes it and stacks it in between the books on the coffee table. No one would guess it's a fake, and no one would think to pick it up. I came up with the idea when we’d wanted to hide something that held value in our dorm, and it's a tactic we’ve used ever since.
"Don't worry, no one knew. I carry a clutch for a reason. It’s the perfect size to hide under my armpit. Once my coat is buttoned, no one can tell."
"What if you get mugged?"
She eyes me like I'm stupid. "When? While I’m sitting in a cab? I know better than to walk these streets at night, Mom."
Ever since I started the part-time nanny gig a year ago, her new thing is to call me Mom when I worry about something she does. The little monsters call me Mom too, but that's a different story.
"You could've gotten a crazy cab driver, like in the movie The Bone Collector." I get cozy under my blanket and Natalie climbs under it at the opposite end. "Go straight to the bank. Don't leave that here."
"I'm going after my first class to put some away. It's not like I can deposit it all at once. The bank would make me fill out paperwork, then question where it came from. I have to deposit small chunks at a time."
Interesting. I didn’t know that. I check the time on my phone. My alarm will be going off in a couple of hours, a little earlier than normal. I need some extra time to get ready for the first day.
"When you're ready to quit changing shitty diapers and wiping snotty noses, let me know. There might be an opening coming up where I work."
I giggle at her suggestion. "I can't be a shot girl. For one, I can't afford to wear the clothes you do, you know that. And two, I'm not clumsy, but I know I would drop the tray on someone. I'd end up having to pay for it all, too."
Natalie shifts on the couch. "The money is so good, though. You just gotta leave your morals at the door."
"To serve shots?"
She's quiet for a long moment and I think she's asleep, until she says, "When you're ready to make money—and I'm talking about money like what you saw tonight, money you could use to help Grammy out with—let me know."
I eye the dictionary and think about the stacks of cash I’d held. After all my necessary expenses for the month are paid, I deposit whatever money I have left into Grammy’s bank account. Even though I’m struggling, my grammy lives on social security and needs the money more than I do. The winters have been brutal the last few years, and if my little scraps of cash help pay her heating bill, then I could do without.
As sleep overtakes me, I think about Nat’s offer. The cash she brought home. The simple luxuries I could treat Grammy and myself to with money like that. I’d get her a flat screen TV and get rid of the '80s monstrosity in her living room. I’d replace my cheap winter coat that hardly does a thing to create a barrier between the cool air and myself. Maybe even new boots to keep my toes from going numb when the temperature dropped. If I made that much cash, I could finally get Grammy out of the shack she lives in.
Two
Two classes complete, and I'm in dire need of a huge serving of caffeine to get through the rest of the day. There's a little hippie coffee shop a few blocks over that Natalie wants to meet at. I have about an hour and a half before my next class to spare.
Walking inside, I spot my best friend immediately, wearing ripped jeans, white Converse, and a peachy pink shirt she's tied into a knot on the left side of her hip. No makeup or jewelry, hair in a messy bun, she's a stark contrast to what she’d looked like early this morning. Natalie is already sitting down with two coffees and a muffin that I know is vegan. She's into all that healthy clean eating shit.
I drop my books to the floor, and she slides one of the drinks my way. I give her a grateful smile and cup the hot mug in my hands, and take a sip. I sigh, making a scene about it. She knows how I love my coffee.
"You didn't have to get me a coffee. Thank you."
She rolls her eyes and shrugs it off. "Will you just shush. Honestly, I don't know how you drink it like that, but it's cool."
"It's just some sugar." I smirk. I have a terrible sweet tooth.
"It's sweetened condensed milk and cream of coconut. Just thinking about it hurts my teeth."
"Try it." I hold it out to her but she shakes her head as if I'm offering up liver and onions.
"No thanks. I'll stick to my lavender cappuccino."
She's obsessed with drinking lavender coffee and swears it's helped with her anxiety, but I call bullshit.
"Lame," I say, and take a sip. "How were your morning classes?"
"They'll be easy breezy. The professor for my Law and Society class is hot as fuck. I might have to try and bone him," she says, wiggling her brows. "The man is a walking sin, and I'm not exaggerating. He shouldn’t be allowed to teach."