Dirty Deeds by Stella Rhys

35

ALY

Thanksto the lumpy bed at the motel, and the second job I’d picked up to pay for it, I was back to running on fumes.

I’d been away from this life for so long that it took awhile to settle back in. I’d genuinely forgotten what it was like to be so tired at work that my face felt numb, like I’d spent the morning at the dentist’s. I had gotten so quickly spoiled living in a big, beautiful house and sleeping on a big, heavenly mattress. The overnight change from luxury to dead flies stuck in fluorescent lights was jarring to say the least.

But I didn’t have a choice.

I was in survival mode, and I just needed to get through the summer. I needed to get through six more weeks by busting my ass at my night job, nabbing that nightly two hours of sleep and giving it my all at the restaurant every morning and day. It was probably going to come close to killing me, but if it meant I’d close out the season with good sales and better press, then it was worth it.

I was pretty sure of it, but Evie wasn’t quite as convinced.

“Please. Please stay over my house tonight. Mike said yes. I talked to him about it all night yesterday, so please,” she begged this morning, trailing me around the kitchen with her hands clasped together. “You can’t operate on two hours of sleep for the next month-and-a-half.”

“I did it before I wound up moving into his house.”

“Yeah, but you only had one job then. Two jobs with only two hours of sleep a night is different, and that difference is you collapsing one day in the middle of this kitchen.”

“Evie. It’s really not that bad. The job is easy and the motel is nice.”

“Then why haven’t you told me where you work or invited me to the motel?”

“Because,” I sassed, leaving it at that. I was giving Evie a lot of those answers lately and she was pretty unamused by it. Hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at me for a second.

“Well, since you don’t work your sketchy second job tonight, will you at least come over to hang out?” she asked.

“If I do, are you going to slash the tires to my car while I’m in the bathroom or something?” I asked.

“Dude, no.” Evie rolled her eyes. “I’d obviously get Mike to use the tire jack so he could remove them properly.”

“Haaa.”

“I wouldn’t want you to have to replace them! Do you know how much tires cost?”

I snorted, forcing myself to goof around with Evie for the rest of the shift because I couldn’t let her catch on to how completely exhausted and empty I felt inside.

It was hard to even be in the restaurant without thinking about Emmett. Honestly, it was hard to be anywhere without thinking about him. I had never been more angry, grateful, betrayed and heartbroken over someone in my life. I had never felt this many conflicting feelings at once and at night, it generally resulted in frustrated tears as I lay restless in bed.

And on the darker nights, I boiled in anger about how I would never be able to be fully proud of myself – to feel like I’d grown up and gotten past everything on my own. I’d question why Emmett felt the need to do what he did, and I always wound up getting stuck on this theory that he just wanted to clear his conscience.

So yeah, nights weren’t great for me these days.

And for that reason, I was kind of grateful for the shitty second job.

Aside from the fact that it earned me enough to leave me some savings, it was physically demanding to the point of leaving me so tired, achy and sore that within twenty minutes of being in bed, no matter how dark my thoughts, I’d fall right asleep.

No sex or dancing needed.

* * *

I spentthe night at Evie’s because honestly, the motel “suite” was a deeply depressing box of a room where I spent way too much time telling myself that the thing on the wall was dust and not a spider.

My intention was to leave by 9PM, but then Evie force fed me wine so I couldn’t drive, and now the plan was to crash on the couch after Mike finished watching the Mets game. It wasn’t ideal. I felt pretty darned awkward for a hot second, because I could hear the two of them hissing about the matter of my crashing tonight while they were in the kitchen. I heard him say the words “this tiny apartment” and knew he didn’t want me around.

But miraculously, at the end of their whisper-yell fighting, I heard Evie giggle.

“You’re so stupid,” she murmured. It was silent for a few seconds and then I heard the sound of a kiss.

And when Evie returned to the bedroom, she did so with a grin.

“He said it’s totally cool that you stay, and if you don’t believe me, he even offered us his pint of Ben and Jerry’s,” she said gently before doing a volume one-eighty and screaming out the door. “Mike!”

“What?”

“Tell Aly you said we could have your ice cream!”

“I said you guys could have my ice cream! Enjoy!”

“See?” Evie smiled sweetly at me.

I snorted at her and said something else about her spiking my drink before we went back into our tired, wine drunk pastime of lying on our backs and scrolling through our phones side by side.

“I really think we might be better now. After the last fight,” Evie said quietly.

All night, here and there, she’d been defending Mike to me. She knew that after the drama they went through three weeks ago – right before I had my own massive drama – I was wary of their relationship. I felt like all she got out of it was torment and heartbreak. I hated seeing her constantly having to mask her emotions around me.

But somehow, in recent weeks, the tables had turned and now Evie seemed genuinely breezy for once while I was constantly pretending to be fine.

Of course, as good as my act was, it didn’t work on her.

“Do you mind that I told Mike that Emmett was our investor?” Evie asked a little while later. I turned my head to look at her.

“I don’t know. I think I do,” I said truthfully. “But mostly because I’m paranoid that the wrong people will find out that Emmett Hoult funded my career. I know you had to tell him. He’s your fiancé and I know he won’t like, randomly call up my dad and spill the beans,” I said, trying to laugh but failing in my attempt, because just the suggestion of that idea made my stomach twist into knots.

“For what it’s worth, he thinks Emmett was just trying to be a good guy.”

I chewed on the corner of my mouth.

“I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be able to look at my own achievements without having to credit him,” I said. “And I just want something of my own for once.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Emmett Hoult is also my investor, and I don’t feel any less proud of myself for what I’ve achieved,” Evie said while scrolling through some exceptionally good-looking dog’s Instagram feed. “Granted I don’t have the same history you have with him, but if you can somehow forget that for a second and pretend he’s just some faceless investor like we initially thought, we did do a shit ton of work on our own. Having money doesn’t mean you can just make a business happen. You have to have a good idea and you have to know how to use it.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “He also had Drea van Dahl hire me when I didn’t necessarily deserve it.”

“So what? It’s like... weird nepotism. He was basically giving you a taste of all the privilege he himself has had in life,” Evie argued. “He missed you, Aly. He couldn’t take care of you in person, so he tried to do it from afar. That’s what people are supposed to do when they love you. They do whatever they can to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, he didn’t love me yet then,” I pointed out. “This was four years ago that he got involved in my life. I think he probably just had too much time and money on his hands, he heard I was having trouble, and he just dunked some money in me to relieve his own conscience.”

“Holy crap, you are cynical. Can I get you more wine?”

“No, Evie. We have work in seven hours and we can’t be hung over.”

“Then will you please just look at this video of a dog cradling a baby? My mom just posted it on my wall and it’s making my ovaries do things.”

“Fine,” I snorted.

And for the rest of the night, I watched animal videos with Evie on Facebook. When Mike was done with the game, he came in to sleep and we did a little exchange. He and Evie set out sheets and pillows on the couch to make it like my cozy little bed, and as they slept, I lay awake and stared sleeplessly into the dark room.

I did that for about thirty minutes before grabbing my phone and looking for entertainment on my apps. But I’d just explored every last corner of Instagram with Evie, and I didn’t have Twitter, Snapchat or Facebook, so I –

Wait.

Well. I did have Facebook but I’d deactivated in college. It was basically now just a time capsule of the person I was right after that one year in boarding school – right after I’d moved away from Emmett, and right before I’d met my darling Evie.

It was probably a terrible idea, but before I knew it, I was navigating to that blue homepage I’d gone so long without seeing. After trying to figure out Facebook on mobile without downloading the app – because that would make my bad decision far too real – I reactivated my old account.

Holy shit.

I must’ve looked crazy with the glow of my phone illuminating my wide eyes in that dark room. But I couldn’t help my instantly voracious scrolling, because it was suddenly hundreds of names I hadn’t seen in a decade, and so many pictures of faces that looked familiar yet completely different.

“Oh my God.”

Timmy Whitman had a kid now. Whaaat? Daniela Valenti totally did end up dancing for the New York City Ballet. Not surprising – still amazing. Rochelle Sumner was married, of course, and Erica Janney was now Erica Janney-Coleman because apparently she’d married Matty Coleman? Which meant he was straight?

What the fuck was the world?

“This is crazy,” I whispered aloud, covering my mouth to suppress my giggles because I was actually having way too much fun. I didn’t even care when I’d accidentally liked a few pictures I hadn’t meant to because there was so much going on, and so much to be distracted by.

It wasn’t till I got to my messages that my smile fell because I noticed Emmett’s name at the top of my inbox. The message was unread and judging from the date, it was from the week after his dad’s funeral.

My heart thumped.

Fuck.

I stared at the screen, my throat already closing up. No. I couldn’t do this right now. I couldn’t feel that storm of love and empathy for him again, because it hurt too much. It had hit me multiple times in the past few weeks, but it never ended in anything but me remembering that I couldn’t look at Emmett the same again. That I couldn’t keep doing this to myself – leaving him behind then returning only, only to leave once again.

Neither of our hearts were equipped for another round of this. I was sure of it.

So without thinking, I slid my phone across the floor, watching its glow travel halfway to the kitchen. It sat there for a minute, casting a blue light onto the ceiling that made me think of Emmett.

But finally, it shut off and after another hour of lying awake on that couch, I did the same.