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Chapter Two

Sasha left her father's palatial home in Sea Cliff in the Prius he had insisted on buying her as a graduation present. He'd even offered to buy her an apartment in Marina. She politely declined his incredibly generous offer because she liked her little place in China Town. She liked the way the streets were always bustling with people, the smells of cooking drifting from nearly every doorway along the streets.

The chefs in China Town had been the first to embrace the forced vegan diet, coming up with delicious meat-free alternatives. Meat could still be eaten, but only in half a dozen restaurants along the west coast of America. Sasha's father just happened to own and supply all of them.

Only the very wealthy could afford to eat at these restaurants. Meat was the most expensive thing in the world now—even more expensive than an ounce of gold. On the west coast, only beef was available; although, Sasha had heard that the east coast restaurants still had pork and lamb available. But it was more than likely just a rumor spread by the poor.

There were hundreds of rumors floating around every day about what was happening over the other side of the country. Of course, the newspapers never reported on these things, so nobody really knew whether they were true or not.

The last one Sasha had heard said that you could still buy chicken in Florida, but it turned out to be a lie. There were no chickens left in the world, nor were there any pigs, or sheep.

She pulled her car up to the curb outside her apartment, cutting the engine and peering up at the building. The bright heat of the sun burned through the glass, leaving her squinting.

Sasha was hoping Mark wasn't home. Although she'd told her father she loved him, the truth was she was getting tired of the fighting and constant argument that always went around in circles.

She was scared that if she admitted that though, that she would also admit to herself that she no longer loved him as she'd once done. He'd changed. She'd changed. She sighed. Maybe their relationship had simply just run its course.

Sasha glanced around at the surrounding cars, hoping to get an indication of whether or not he was at home, but this was San Francisco, and parking was at a premium.

Once she's gathered up her courage, she got out of her car, glancing beside her as a black sedan with a dark tint on the windows drove by slowly.

'Good luck trying to get a parking spot,' she said under her breath.

Through the glass doors, Sasha took the stairs to the second flood, jingling the keys inside her pocket anxiously. She didn't want to be there if Mark was.

Suck it up, North. Just go in there and get changed.

Letting out a deep breath, Sasha slid the key into the lock and pushed inside.

'Mark? I'm home,' she called out.

There was a muffled grunt, and her eyes slid to the couch, where Mark was sprawled out—face down—in the cushions.

Sasha kept her distance, skirting around the room in the direction of the bedroom. 'How many interviews do you have lined up for today?' she asked.

Mark had studied to be an accountant, but he'd quit his first job, saying the grind of nine-to-five was "not his thing". He got a job as a bar manager in the meantime, telling her that he'd find something better soon.

That had been six months ago.

'Don't start in on me, yet,' he replied with a snarl. 'I only just got up.'

'It's nine in the morning. You should have been up two hours ago.'

'Fuck, Sasha. Give it a rest, will you? You don't see me riding you about working at the fucking diner, do you?' he spat back, his words getting her back up. He'd managed to get himself into a vertical position, scrubbing his hands down his face.