The staff knew her by now. Michaela had been there for just over a year. Finding Hearts and Hands had been difficult, and once she had, getting her sister a bed there had been even harder, but Ellis had made a giant pain in the ass of herself until Michaela had the right home.
“Hey, Corrine,” she said to the silver-haired woman behind the front desk. “Here you go. Cal says hi.” She handed over a Ziploc baggie with two of Cal’s buttermilk biscuits in it, Corrine’s favorite.
“Oh, Ellis, you are too good to me. Thank you, sweetie.”
“She good today?”
“Her usual sunny self.”
With a rap of her knuckles on Corrine’s desk, Ellis headed down the hall, smiling to herself. That was their conversation every time. She’d ask if Michaela was having a good day, and Corrine would say something likeHer usual sunny selforShe’s been running laps around the houseorShe knit an entire blanket this morning. And they’d smile at each other wistfully. Because if only any of those things was actually the case.
Michaela’s room was at the end of the hall in the back corner of the house. Ellis knocked softly, which she did every time, even though it wasn’t like her sister was going to call out for her to come in.
“Hey, Mikey,” she said softly. “How are things in your world today?” She went in, pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead, pulled a chair close to her bed, and sat. It was an honest question, one she asked often. Because Michaela was definitely in her own world, and Ellis wished she could visit there.
“So, I had to waitress today.” She snorted a laugh. “Yes, you heard that right. Me. Carrying plates of food. Can you believe it? I only dropped things twice. And notonanybody, thank freaking God.” She took a moment to just look at her sister, which she didn’t do every time because it could overwhelm her. She wasn’t as blond as Ellis, something she’d endlessly complained about when they were teenagers. Her hair was more of a light brown. Today, it was in a braid—she’d have to thank Shaq for that. He was the nurse who always did her hair or her nails, which were a new shade of pink. He’d bathe her, give her a pedicure, brush her hair, rub lotion on her arms. Her blue eyes, so much like Ellis’s, were open as usual, and for about the millionth time, Ellis wondered what she saw. The room? The view out the window? Something in her own head? Something only she could see? Anything at all?
“I like this pink,” Ellis said, stroking the back of Michaela’s hand. “It’s a good color for your skin tone.” She reached toward the nightstand and grabbed the book that sat there. It was a well-worn copy ofThe Girlon the Train. Michaela had never been one to read romances or heartfelt drama. She liked gritty psychological thrillers. Paula Hawkins. Ruth Ware. Riley Sager. Opening the book where the bookmark was, she asked, “Ready? Where were we?”
And she began to read.
Chapter Two
“Okay, so tomorrow afternoon, I’ll get some happy hour shots,” Cherry muttered to herself as she sat in Starbucks and studied the calendar on her phone. Pretty shots of pretty drinks always garnered interest, so she made plans to stop by that cute bar near the office after work and order something fruity and fun. Pink.
She’d surpassed twenty thousand followers, not bad for somebody who had a very small built-in base as it was, but her growth seemed to have slowed. Every day she got a comment or seven asking after Alyssa.Where’s the hot gf?OrHaven’t seen your sweetie lately. When she went back and did the math, she got way more engagement from shots that included or mentioned her girlfriend than solo stuff. Seemed her base liked seeing a stable sapphic couple over a single girl on her own in the city. But she wasn’t about to tell them that Alyssa had run off with her fitness trainer. Her male fitness trainer. Her male fitness trainerandhis wife. This was embarrassing. Cherry wasn’t left for somebody else, she was left fortwosomebody elses, and they’d all moved to Colorado together to live in some yoga retreat commune thing, and Cherry hadn’t been able to tell anybody. Not a soul. She was too mortified.
Some emo dude was singing along to his acoustic guitar over the speakers in the ceiling. Cherry shook herself back to the present. She should’ve taken a shot of her latte before she drank any, but then she tilted her head. The print from her dark pink lip gloss on the cup made it look kinda cool, so she set it next to the bud vase in the center of the table, angled it so the light hit just right, and snapped a couple photos. Picked the best one, used her editing app to clean it up, then posted it to Snapchat, using a pink filter with hearts and tagging Starbucks. Notthat she’d ever get any acknowledgment from them. They were too big. But you never knew, right? She tagged every place and every company she could, which was paying off in small ways because every now and then, she’d receive some product in the mail. Super cool. And totally the goal. She knew some of the big influencers got tons of free products and sponsorships. One of these days…
Speaking of products, she had to do a mascara post. It had been a while since she spotlighted makeup. And the last video was up to seven thousand likes and almost ten thousand views. Not too shabby.
She tossed her napkin and was headed out of Starbucks when her phone buzzed a text. Shea Gibbons—one of her roomies and her BFF and the self-proclaimed voice of reason in Cherry’s life.
Bach 2nite,came her text, followed by an emoji of a rose.
Yasssss, she texted back with a grin. She didn’t love the showThe Bachelornearly as much as Shea did, but she found it entertaining and used it as a way to spend time with her best friend. Plus, it gave her fodder for posting, and Shea was always a willing partner in crime when it came to creating videos. She had a great eye, and she was funny, two things that Cherry was always happy to use. They’d make a couple videos as they watched.Bachelorones always got lots of views.
Shea was still at work, and Cherry walked from the Starbucks back to their apartment. Adam, her other roommate, was just pulling into the parking lot when she got there.
“Hey, bitch.” His standard greeting. He wore khaki pants and a black polo shirt, the uniform of the pet store he worked at during the day, and his dark hair was so perfect, it looked like it had been drawn. Animated. Complete with a fun swoop to the right side of his head, which would change direction the next time he ran his hand through it.
“Your hair is stupid perfect. I hate you.”
“Get in line.”
Their apartment wasn’t fancy at all, but it didn’t suck. Three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, a decent-sized living area, galley kitchen. It was on the top floor of a three-story building that housed five other apartments.
“You working tonight?” she asked him as she dropped her keys on the small table by the door and hung her laptop bag on the coatrack.
“Ugh. Yes. Dashing. Someday, I’ll have a job that pays me enough, and I won’t need to work three.” He headed toward his room,and Cherry knew he’d likely take a quick nap before he had to do his DoorDash shift.
She turned on the TV but kept the volume low. That was something cool about living with these two—they were all very cognizant of the others’ schedules. When Adam was Dashing, he might work until after midnight. When he did his bartending gig, he’d sometimes not be home until three or four in the morning. So he needed to grab sleep where he could, and the last thing she wanted to do was have the TV too loud and keep him from catching some z’s.
They’d met taking classes at Northwood University, more than ten years ago now. They’d bonded over how much school was not their thing. They’d dropped out together, met Shea at a Pride event one night when she was being an ally to her cousin, and the three of them became a bonded trio for several years. They’d only moved in together two years ago, and Cherry couldn’t be happier. Would she like her own place? Sure. There was plenty of time for that. Besides, she’d be lonely without her besties—she couldn’t imagine living all by herself.
She flumped onto the fairly new couch, velour or microfiber or something like that, dark blue and super soft. She really needed to do the mascara post, but she was exhausted today. Cruella had been relentless, she had five claims to look into before the end of the week, and all she wanted to do was sit and watch the latest episode ofThe L Word: Generation Q, which was sitting right there on the DVR, but she’d promised Shea she wouldn’t watch without her. Then after they watched the show, they’d order a pizza and settle in forThe Bachelorlater. Her favorite kind of night.
A commercial for Motrin came on, and the model was blond and pretty, and suddenly, without warning, Cherry’s thoughts went to the waitress from that morning.
