On top of my have-to-do-something-soon-or-I’ll-be-homeless money problems, there was another issue weighing on my mind since I’d moved to New York: I hadn’t talked to my mom in weeks. Not once. She refused to accept my decision to move to New York and I knew if I called her, she’d try to convince me that I’d made a huge mistake by moving away from Texas.
I’d assumed that she or my dad would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. I guess they thought I’d made my bed and now I had to lie in it. Well I’d be damned if I told them that my current bed was a used futon with a lumpy rock trying to pass itself off as a mattress. Every night I drifted off to the gentle sounds of my upstairs neighbors tromping around like a herd of elephants.
It wasn’t perfect, but I was in New York and it’d take a lot more than a crappy bed to convince me to move back home. Like, oh, I don’t know…my mountain of student debt. I pushed the thought away as I started to get ready for a day out on the boat. There was no point in dwelling on it. I’d be okay for a little longer. Julian had paid me early and I’d put most of it toward my outstanding loan.
I’d already started to look for another job, something I could do in the evenings. The night before, after a glass of $5 wine, I’d perused the pages of Craigslist, trying to stay away from the call girl ads in favor of something more suited to my degree.
I’d had a hard enough time finding the position with Julian. The chances of finding another job that would allow me the flexibility to continue full time at Lorena Lefray were slim to none. Still, I’d made a mental note to search around for jobs when I got home that night. Dreams were fun and all, but I didn’t have the luxury of living in New York and pursuing mine scot-free. When I’d packed my bags and left for greener pastures, I’d known that my decision had come with strings attached. Unfortunately, it now looked like those strings were more like chains.
Chapter Sixteen
Josephine
The moment we arrived at the marina, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Julian punched in the private access code and two wrought iron gates stirred to life. A brick-paved drive lined with rose bushes led us toward the guest parking lot. Attendants in white oxfords and starched slacks zipped around on golf carts, helping guests at the marina and ensuring that everything was running as it should be.
I stared out the window as I unclicked my seatbelt. Dread was already swimming in my stomach.
“Uhhh, I thought we were going boating,” I said, focused on a group of gorgeous girls stepping out of a Mercedes SUV a few yards away from us. They might as well have been in ball gowns compared to my outfit.
Julian peered over my shoulder and I turned to meet his eye. Whereas I probably looked like I’d just seen a ghost, Julian looked calm and collected.
“We are,” he said.
“No. We’re going yachting,” I said, pointing toward the rows of massive sailboats that lined the front of the marina. “Those girls are wearing designer dresses and high heels.”
I was wearing a colorful, short cover-up over a royal blue bikini. I had on gold strappy sandals and I looked cute-as-fuck. Did I, however, look like I was about to go yachting with New York City’s upper elite? No. I probably would have fit in better at the Jersey Shore between Snooki and JWoww.
Julian’s gaze drifted down, taking me in inch by inch, and then he smiled as he met my eyes once again.
“I think you look great.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh please.”
From our vantage point, I could see the guests who’d arrived before me. The women were definitely the ones from the SUV beside ours, and I could already see their layers of jewelry and vintage scarves from yards away. Gag me. I hadn’t realized I was spending the morning with the future Queens of England.
“Normally in Texas, boating means taking a shitty boat out on the water and then docking it as soon as possible so that you can float around in the water and drink beer.”
Julian smiled. “Ah, I see. I guess I should have mentioned that Dean has a yacht.”