What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,12

It was almost intolerable.

Almost. But not quite.

She'd figured everything out, mostly on her own, and she'd made it work. Their tenuous situation was working. Sure, she didn't have any social life to speak of, because she didn't have time for one, but that was okay. She'd work at her sketchy job, she'd get through school, she'd graduate with good grades, and then she'd get a good job. She'd move somewhere nice, somewhere with a view of a park, just for Gam-Gam. She'd hire round the clock nurses. She'd do whatever it took.

So if that meant a little self-sacrifice right now, then so be it.

“I brought you a snack,” Valentine said, sitting on a low stool near her grandma's bed.

“Thank you,” Gam-Gam sighed. “I always love it when you visit me.”

“Me, too,” Valentine smiled, and she held out a spoonful of applesauce. Her grandmother took it, then seemed to think hard while she swallowed.

“Do you know my daughter, Patricia?” she asked. Valentine's smile wavered, but didn't fall. She was used to this question.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “She was my mother.”

“You're Patricia's daughter?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh,” Gam-Gam was thoughtful once again. She took a sip of the drink when Val offered it, then she continued talking. “She had two daughters, Janette and Valentine.”

“She did.”

“I always adored Valentine, have you ever met her?”

Val's smile stayed in place.

“I'm Valentine, Gam-Gam.”

“You're Valentine?” her grandmother seemed doubtful.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Oh.” Another long pause. “I'm so glad you came to visit me. Are you going to stay for a bit this time?”

It was virtually the same conversation they had every day. Valentine nodded, then fed a cracker to her childhood idol.

“I am, Grandma. I'm going to stay for a long, long time.”

3

The agreement was Bailey had to Grandma-sit from nine o'clock until six in the morning. For a large pizza, though, she was usually willing to extend those hours.

After the pepperoni and olive pie was delivered around seven-thirty, Valentine hopped on her bike and rode her ass over to a super trendy part of town. The address Harper had given her was for a swanky looking apartment building. A couple buzzes and an elevator ride later found Val standing outside an oversized door with the number twenty-three on the front of it.

“You made it,” Harper said, her voice full of surprise when she answered the door. Valentine nodded while she took off her helmet.

“I did – I texted you that I was on my way,” she replied, glancing around the space as they walked into the apartment proper.

“Well, yeah, but I don't know, I thought maybe you'd be late, or whatever.”

Bitch.

While Harper went to get them something to drink, Valentine looked around in awe. Her parents hadn't been poor people, but they hadn't been rich, either. Solid middle class. She'd grown up in comfortable, but somewhat small, surroundings.

It was clear that Harper's life was very different. Val knew the other girl didn't have a job, yet this apartment must have cost a fortune. It had an open floor plan, the huge kitchen just off to her left, and just past it was a dining area. Valentine could see papers spread across the table, so she shrugged out of her backpack and made her way over to it.

“Sparkling better be okay,” Harper said as she brought over two glasses.

“It's fine,” Val took off her jacket, then sat her pile of junk at her feet. Harper frowned at the mess for a moment, then frowned at Val's hair, then finally handed over the water.

“Did you ride a motorcycle here, or something?” she asked as she took a seat.

“Regular bike,” Val corrected her, sitting down, as well.

“Oh. I thought maybe your boyfriend was in the Hell's Angels.”

Valentine laughed.

“No boyfriend, and seriously, I'm not as wild as you seem to think I am. I go to school, I work, I take care of my grandma. No motorcycle gangs, no drugs, not even a sex life. So if I promise not to rob you or sell you to some gang, will you relax a little bit so we can work together?”

Harper tensed up for a moment, her mouth screwed together so tight, it looked like it had been glued shut. Then she let out a deep breath and flicked some platinum hair over her shoulder.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Sure. I'm ... we're just so different, and I don't know anything about you, and I'm very ... I just don't hang out with a lot of people.”

She means she doesn't hang out with people she thinks