I cringe, my tiny ray of hope dimming as my former legal eagle delivers the bad news.
“Nope. Sure didn’t. Just like I didn’t read the no-moonlighting policy in the HR handbook that got me fired.”
“I’m so sorry, B. Do you have another means of income you can show them? Monthly deposits into your account in an amount no less than four times your rent from anywhere? How about your trust fund? Can you have the trustee do monthly payments?”
I lower my head to the counter and smack my forehead against it. “No, I can’t. It’s maxed out this year.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Greer replies. “Okay. Let’s think.”
I love that she doesn’t question how I spent the money, even though I know she must be wondering. I haven’t told her about my new venture because I didn’t want to spill until I knew it wasn’t going to be yet another big idea of mine that crashed and burned. Also, I know she’ll offer to help any way she can, and this time, I feel like I have something to prove. Like I can succeed or fail based on my own merits.Holy shit, I might be growing up.
“Can you get your parents to float you?”
I actually laugh at her suggestion. “No way in hell. You know how they are.”
Greer sighs. “Will you let me help? You know I have the cash.”
“I love you so freaking much, but there’s no way I’m taking your money. Maybe ... I’ll go talk to my parents. Last-ditch effort for desperate times. Where the hell am I going to live if I lose this apartment and have no income?”
“If you’d just let me help—” Greer starts, but I cut her off.
“Let me try to figure this out myself first.”
“Okay, but you can always crash at my place. You’d do it for me.”
She’s right, but I’m not taking a handout, at least not from anyone who isn’t blood related. “It’s time for me to learn how to handle my shit myself, I think. Don’t worry; I’ll figure it out.”
“Damn right you will. You’re Banner Fucking Regent.”
I smile at my best friend’s confidence, and hope I can prove I deserve it. “I’ll woman up or get the hell out of the city, I guess.”
Greer is quiet for another long moment. “Let me know if there’s anything at all I can do. You know I’ll do it.”
“Talk soon, babe.”
She says good-bye, and we hang up.
I stand in the middle of my apartment and turn in a slow circle. “They’re only walls.” I swallow back the rising lump in my throat. “I can figure this out.”
It’s not like I have a choice.
I head for my bedroom to change into the armor I’ll need to face my parents.
God help me.
* * *
Jansen and Jane Regent live in a house they’ve owned for as long as I can remember. While I was growing up, we bounced between Manhattan and the three-acre estate that still boasts green shag carpet from the ’70s and the ugliest avocado-green appliances you can imagine.
It’s not like they don’t have the money to renovate, but my parents would never take the time to deal with that kind of project when they can hole up in their state-of-the-art lab they built only twenty yards from the house. Actually, I’m pretty sure the lab and its contents are worth triple what the house and the land are.
What exactly do my über-genius parents do? Freelance research and development for biotech and defense contracting firms that’s so top secret, they can’t even talk about it to their daughter. Not that they would if they could.
My mother still hasn’t forgiven me for the C I got in AP Chemistry in tenth grade (on purpose, I might add, so I could screw over my GPA and any chance of getting into MIT). I believe that day was when she officially gave up on me ever following in their footsteps. My mother doesn’t blink at dropping a million dollars for super-special mice for their lab, but the chances of her offering to bail me out for a fraction of that amount are slim to none. And yet, given that I’m up shit creek with no paddle, I’m going to sacrifice my pride and give it a shot.
When I knock on the door to the house, Albright, my parents’ jack of all trades, answers the door.
“Ms. Banner, it’s a surprise to see you here.”