Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(94)
It didn’t end soon.
The first week, I left my apartment only to buy take-out, purchase a few necessities for general living, and get my utilities turned on. The rest of my time I spent lying on my bed, praying this would end. I wanted Sin.
The second week, I went a little insane. I watched television when I wasn’t lying in bed crying and missing everyone, and I picked at the paint on my bedroom wall. I wanted Sin.
The third week, I bought a vacuum and trash bags and housework supplies to clean my mess from the previous two weeks—when I wasn’t watching television or lying in bed with my box of tissues. I wanted Sin.
The fourth week, I debated buying a dog for company. Except the landlady told me it was against the rental agreement I had signed. So I sobbed about that, along with everything else, while watching television or lying in bed or vacuuming the carpet. I wanted Sin.
The fifth week, the landlady dropped by with a very fake, concerned expression on her face and handed me a business card…then kindly reminded me I had neighbors beside, above, and below me. I tore up the card for the counselor and stuffed my head down on the pillow to cry, muffling the sound. I needed Sin.
During the sixth week, I came to the realization I wasn’t just depressed. I was becoming suicidal. Before I started debating Russian roulette too seriously, I pulled myself from the drudgery of my self-pity, tucked away the one person who meant everything to me but was wrecking my sanity from missing him so much, and sucked it up. My life sure as hell wasn’t getting any better.
But it was still a damn life.
The only plus during my single-handed downslide was that I had come to the decision that the One and I were attracted to each other. But nothing could ever develop from our attraction because the One lived at the Temple and was faithful to the Temple, while I lived in this world and was faithful to this world. Both of us lived completely separate lives. Our attraction was mostly just attraction.
I didn’t want him. I knew that now.
Because of the lifestyle I had decided, living with the consequences of existing outside the Temple, I now resided in 1993.
I entered the first seedy bar I could find and started making friends.
While I listened. And learned.
Finally, I was ready to return to my roots.
Chapter Thirty-One
My plans moved slower than I’d expected, and my cash funds were dwindling, so I obtained a job at the apparel store I had purchased my clothes from. Every criminal needed a respectable daytime job—though a touch of my power was needed to get it. I didn’t have the tax documents required in this day and age.
It took two weeks of searching until I finally heard the names coveted by a few loners, the rich and the powerful names of the gaming underworld in this area. After buying more respectable outfits with my staff discount—a couple of pairs of black trousers I actually liked and a few cleavage-revealing, yet respectable, silk tops—I frequented different bars, the more reputable kind, making different friends. After that, it still took me a damn month, having been there for close to three months by that point, before I was invited to an illegal poker game with the wealthy and influential of New York City, not too far from Choep.
My nice, loyal car made the trip safely. I now stood inside the back room of a swanky dance club, weird music—oldies—rocking behind the closed door. I gave my name to the Vampire bouncer with a clipboard in his hand. I waited patiently, confident about my invite as I brushed wrinkles out of my new trousers. I also straightened the red silk top I wore, its color the same as my hair—very flattering. The bouncer flipped his sheet, eyed the page, then slashed a mark on it with his pen. He nodded to the Shifter in a tux behind him.
“If you’ll come this way, ma’am.” The Shifter gestured politely for me to follow.
My gaze covertly flew across the room, taking in the scene except for anything beyond the Shifter’s broad shoulders blocking my view straight ahead. I stopped when he did, his attention scanning for an empty seat. The posh, intimately lit card room was full of both quiet and boisterous individuals. The gaming area was smoky, making it hard to see clearly to the other side, but I made do, peering past the waitresses dressed like prostitutes—because they were—and taking into account the smallest details of the place. I walked when he did, weaving our way through the tables. I hid my grin as many of the Mystical men—there were no Coms here—went quiet as I passed. This generation had a different attitude to women playing cards, which was one of the reasons it had taken me so long to earn the invite. But being damn near the only female cardplayer in the place would work in my favor.
I hoped to earn the owner’s notice and eventually his favor.
My goal here was not to win loads of cash, even though I definitely could. My goal was to earn the respect of the owner…before I unloaded all of his establishments of cash.
I had done it before. I sure as hell could do it in 1993.
The Shifter held out a chair for me, earning my gaze instantly. My smile was sweet as I nodded my thanks. I sat and pushed my chair up before peering to the other occupants of the eight-heavy table. I was damned proud I kept a completely neutral expression at what I was faced with. All of them were males, half staring at what cleavage I could muster with my smaller chest size, while the other half were calmly evaluating me.
None of that shocked me.
What did seize my thoughts was whom I saw.