I was no longer homeless!
It would seem I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I had a place to live, food to eat, a bed to sleep in, and even a job to go to first thing tomorrow.
And I didn’t have to deal with an asshole who enjoyed putting me down and forcing me to give him blow jobs at every turn.
The icing on the cake?
The closet.
Holy smokes, that place seemed to be burping out clothes and shoes every time I clicked on the light.
Yes. My closet had a light.
And drawers.
And a chair!
Of course, when I’d gotten over the fancy outer shell of that room—because I was sure ten by ten qualified as a room—I’d given the wardrobe a good once-over, and much to my surprise, I was almost certain I owned every piece of clothing that poor Judy had tried to sell me that morning.
Gah, and the shoes!
I so wished I was the type of girl who went gaga over shoes, because I would’ve been half out of my mind at this point. Unfortunately, those fancy heeled demons were all wasted on me.
Not that I wouldn’t do my best to get used to them. I would.
Because they were mine!
It was an incredible feeling, I couldn’t lie.
Overwhelmed was the word I seemed to be going back to.
But even with all the excitement, there was also something else.
A strange feeling that had been curling through my body, making my fingers go numb and my mind go fuzzy ever since I’d stopped to take a breath.
Something I hadn’t expected.
I was…lonely.
I know, I know. Poor me, right? I had all this fancy shit and here I was complaining?
But what good was it to have so much stuff without a single person to share it with? Not even a friend I could call to say, hey, I got these new fancy panties that have matching bras!
Nope. No one was going to know about that.
It might’ve taken a couple of hours, but now that some of the excitement had faded, I really was lonely here in this ginormous apartment by myself. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that I’d enjoyed spending so much time with Mr. Parker and Mr. Snowden. So much so, I kept wishing time could speed up so that it was six o’clock. I was looking forward to having dinner with them. If nothing else, it would give me something to do and people to do it with.
That was one of my flaws, I knew. I wasn’t the type of girl who could spend countless hours alone. I needed social interaction. I enjoyed being around people.
Or rather, I’d grown accustomed to it over the years. Being that I’d never had a place of my own, peace and quiet was a luxury I wasn’t familiar with. It was going to take some time to get used to it.
Getting to my feet, I headed for the living room and snatched up the remote.
My heart fluttered again because…
I had a television!
Yep. I did.
And the best part was that there was no one to tell me what I could or could not watch.
*
At roughly six o’clock, the phone in the kitchen rang.
I’d been so engrossed in watching Friends—imagine that, a channel that played reruns almost all the time—I was startled at first, unable to do anything but stare across the room at it. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to figure out answering it was the appropriate thing to do.
After jumping to my feet, I darted across the room and grabbed the cordless receiver from the base.
“Hello?”
“It’s Justin.” The deep voice came through crystal clear.
“Hi, Mr. Parker.” Oh, great. And now I was all breathy, like I’d been…waiting for him to call.
“I’m requesting the pleasure of your company for dinner.”
I giggled. “Requesting? You’re not much on requesting anything, are you?”
The raspy chuckle that responded kicked off a swarm of butterflies in my belly. “You’re right. I’m commanding your company for dinner.”
Oh, dear heavens. I might’ve swooned at that.
“I’d be happy to come over,” I blurted.
He chuckled softly. “Good. Whenever you’re ready. The door’s unlocked.”
“Yes, Mr. Parker.”
Another deep, raspy snicker and then the line disconnected.
In an effort not to look too excited, I went to the bathroom and checked my appearance. I had changed out of the interview ensemble and pulled on a pair of new denim shorts—that fit like a glove—and a body-hugging, navy-blue T-shirt, and I briefly wondered if I should change. There were dozens of skirts and dresses in that huge walk-in closet/room. And plenty of shoes to go along with them.
I glanced down at myself, then over to the closet door.
Admittedly, I wasn’t completely comfortable wearing dresses or skirts, but the ones they’d given me were nice. Both quality and style. I could possibly get used to wearing them. Granted, the shoes were another story.
