LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(15)

My back teeth began to ache from clenching them against the emotion that wanted to come out. It all felt futile. I couldn’t come up with a solution that worked. Even if I could find a job that would pay enough, I’d be working so many hours I wouldn’t have time to give Nugget the care and attention she deserved. And how fair would that be for her?

My mother’s words about spending “less time bitching and more time fixing” echoed in my head. Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to solve anything. It never had in the past.

Out of curiosity, I clicked around on the internet searching for horse-related jobs in and around Stowe, Vermont. Maybe if I couldn’t find a job in the city, I needed to expand my search. Sure, I’d lived my entire life in New York, but that didn’t mean I had to stay here forever.

One of the first results that popped up was a company that offered sleigh rides. I sat and thought about it a minute. It would be a change from the hustle and bustle of Central Park, but it would mean Nugget and I would still be able to work together. I sent out polite emails to three different sleigh ride companies in Vermont in hope that one of them might have an opening.

I drummed my fingers against the table as I waited for a response. It was ridiculous to think they’d respond so quickly, but I was anxious. And desperate. Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do with my time. Except of course peruse just a few more of the stupid bullshit articles about the Roman/Polly situation from the melodramatic tabloids.

Those were certainly more entertaining, and juicier.

Time must have passed more quickly than I expected—and the half-naked photo spread of Roman was more distracting than I’d realized—because my third forty-five-minute session ended after about two minutes. I glanced up and looked around, realizing the people sitting near me were all different from the ones who’d been there when I’d sat down.

I sighed and checked my email one last time. Nothing. Which meant I was ending the day in an even worse place than I’d started it. Sure I’d found a place for Nugget to stay, and I had money in my pocket, but I was still homeless and jobless with no prospects on the horizon.

I remembered another of my mother’s expressions: “stop waiting for life to hand you things and go take them for yourself.” Perhaps she’d been a bit liberal with the “taking” part of that particular maxim, but that didn’t make it any less true. If my best prospects for a job were in Vermont, then I had to figure out a way to get there and apply for them in person.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I stood up from my chair and reached for my backpack.

The backpack that was no longer anywhere to be found.





6





Roman





Polly Spotted At Sak’s Sans Baby Daddy Burke



When I pulled down the long driveway of Oscar’s Vermont property, I was expecting to see a little cabin in the woods—someplace nice and cozy where I could play mountain man hermit and pretend I was a broody hero from a depressing British novel.

But then I saw the “cottage” and quickly realized the word cottage had to be used in quotation marks when referring to Oscar’s Vermont estate.

It was a mansion. Like, millions and millions of dollars’ worth of vistas and outbuildings, decorative fountains, and what had to be at least a twelve-car garage. And the entire thing was backlit by the setting sun like some kind of monument to wealth and perfection. I’d always known Oscar had money, though he took great pains to keep the source of his wealth to himself, but this house was unbelievable

“Jesus fuck, Oscar,” I muttered to myself. “I’m paying you too much for crisis management.”

I knew that wasn’t the case, especially since I wasn’t actually paying Oscar at all. Mostly because he wasn’t really a crisis manager at all; he’d just been through enough crazy crap himself that he always knew exactly what to do. The man was unflappable.

I pulled up to one of the garage bays and clicked a button on the smart-home app Oscar had made me download on my phone. The garage door slid up smoothly, exposing a pristine interior. After pulling in I noticed several of the other bays held gleaming, expensive-looking vehicles. I wondered how often Oscar came up here. He’d made it sound like he wasn’t here very often, but I couldn’t imagine wanting to ever leave.

I left the keys in the car since the place was so secluded and made my way into the spacious mudroom and beyond to the enormous open kitchen. Everything was covered in warm colors from the hardwood floors to the wood-paneled walls to the upholstery on the sofas and chairs. It wasn’t too fussy or modern, and I knew right away that despite the place being about ten thousand too many square feet for just me, I’d be able to relax here just fine.

Except, after spending less than an hour wandering around and familiarizing myself with the layout of the place, I had to admit, I was already a little lonely. Not for the first time, I wondered why I hadn’t pressed the issue for Scotty to join me. I’d offered, thinking that it would make sense he’d want to stay near his horse and take care of him. But he’d been adamant that he needed to stay in the city to look for a job.

“I’ll take your help,” he’d told me. “But I don’t need your charity.”

Frankly, his refusal had left me feeling a little dejected. I wasn’t used to being turned down. In fact, usually people jumped at the opportunity to spend time with a star like me.