Falling For Seconds

Chapter Eighteen

I counted and recounted the stack of bills on my coffee table. I stared at the number on my calculator, the digital screen reading 1,425. I was surprised that amount was so large. It would get me by until I found another job, as long as the job search didn't take two months. Surely it wouldn't, but with my luck, who knew...
Shoving all the money back into the manilla envelop in my lap, I contemplated opening a bank account. What address would I use when they asked? Such simple questions that I'd never had to second guess before, but then again there were a lot of situations I'd never thought I'd be in.
I lifted the mattress and slightly opened the slit between the white fabric that covered the box spring. I dropped the folder inside before I remade my bed and walked back to the couch.
I was distraught on what to do next. I needed someone to talk to. I picked up my phone and shuffled through the contact list. Greyson's name came up first and I hesitated for a second, my finger hovering over his name. He wouldn't talk to me even if it was an emergency.
Levi, on the other hand, might. I was almost positive he had listened to all my voicemails. He had to have had some kind of feelings for me, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to keep me safe. Even though all of them were failed attempts. You don't wait to have sex with someone who meant nothing to you. Or do you? I was so new to all of this: cheating, sex, or life, in general.
I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Levi on the couch and listen to him talk about his messed up past. I still wanted to hear every detail. I more so wanted to hear his voice. He had disappeared so many times before, you'd think it would be easy not seeing him. But those past times I knew I would see him eventually. That's what kept me going, the anticipation. Now there was none of that. I was alone and knew I was never going to see him again.
It was too big of a city to just run into him by chance. How did we run into each other that night I was out with Greyson? I shuddered at the thought that he had followed me.
Maybe...it really was fate. Or the man upstairs was a sick jokester.
He really wasn't like his brother. He wanted to be good, but the cards of life he was dealt were hard to work with.
Even with him not in my life, I was still mentally standing up for him. Does that mean I truly loved him? You're an idiot. "Thanks subconscious..." I stated aloud.
That still didn't explain why he had gotten, Greyson's sister, Sarah addicted to drugs. Maybe it was an accident? I needed to hear his side of the story. Would I believe him if he told me? He had lied to me before.
There was blood on his hands. Oh boy, was I conflicted. I thought that once I made a choice and moved forward things would start clearing up, but I was coming to the conclusion that nothing was going to change. I was in this madness for the long haul.
I sat back against the cushion and shook my head; I was thinking too much. Just as I had closed my eyes, my phone began to ring. I sprung forward not even reading the caller ID. "Hello," I was half convinced it would be Levi.
"Good afternoon, is this Miss. Hadley Lee?"
My nose scrunched at the formal greeting, definitely not Levi.
"Uh, it is, but may I ask with whom I am speaking?" I could be just as formal even though it made my voice sound ten times older.
"I am calling on behalf of Mr. Dale Whittaker. I am his attorney and am handling all of his affairs."
Funny, Dale told me he didn't have any "affairs" other than his truck, home, and bookstore. "What does that have to do with me? I'm not a blood relative."
"I'm afraid I can't really discuss anything over the phone, but if you are free for a couple hours I would love to set up a meeting."
I had a feeling that would be the answer. Even my parents didn't talk freely on the phone, even when it was just a conversation about getting new shoes. I rolled my eyes. "I'm free right now, where are you located?"
"On the corner of Reddington and Sapphire, assuming you know where that is. My office is called Brighton Law. My name is Richard Brighton. There will be a receptionist as soon as you walk through the door, I will let her know you are coming."
After everything that had happened to me, you would think I would've felt apprehensive. I couldn't understand why I wasn't asking for verification.
Maybe because I felt like this day couldn't get any worse or maybe I wasn't going to care if I got abducted again by Levi's brother and his band of miscreants. But who would pretend to be an attorney?
"Did we get disconnected?"
"No, no...I'm sorry. Yes, I will be there as soon as possible." I spoke quickly as I regained my composure.
"Looking forward to it! Please don't forget to bring a government issued ID and social security card, so I can verify you are the person you claim to be."
I nodded then realized he couldn't see me. "Okay, I'll see you in a little while. Goodbye." He almost copied my words exactly before we both ended the call.
What should I wear? Was he expecting me to look a certain way? Does he know anything about me? Had Dale explained the situation? Was this meeting to be super formal?
I ran to my makeshift closet that sat on a rolling rack in the corner of my room. I had one pencil skirt and blazer, no hose of any kind (I threw them all out when I moved), black heels, but no blouse to go underneath. I grabbed a tank top that had lace above the breast line and slipped into the outfit.
My hair was still done from earlier, so I ran a brush threw it and focused more on my makeup. Concealer covered the new dark circles under my eyes and my all too pronounced freckles. I added blush to give my face some color and a little mascara. I was never one to wear much makeup.
My eyes were still puffy from this morning's sub session. The whites of my were streaked with red lines from lack of quality sleep. I had little knowledge of how to change it.
My mother would waste 40 minutes or more every morning making sure her face looked like a freshly iced cake. She also loved lipstick, so much so she would reapply every hour on the hour. She tried to push me into it once I turned sixteen, to no prevail.
My "cake" face was left for school photos and huge events like prom or recitals. I never much liked the feeling of not being able to touch my face or eat properly.
I dashed a little chapstick on my lips and grabbed my shoes, purse, coat and scarf. I wished, in a small part of my heart, that my mom had taught me a little bit more about makeup than she had. Not to the extent of covering your face, but some techniques with eyeshadow or something.
I supposed I could teach myself, but it would've been more fun to have that bonding time with my mom. Albeit, she wasn't the nice kind of teacher, or a teacher at all. She was more of a drill sergeant. In a different life, maybe it would've happened.