Broke Blondie

Story synopsis: Jenna, twenty-four, alone and unable to find a job, finds herself homeless. Still struggling with the fact that she has to go to her sister hat in hand, she finds herself a savoir, who happens to be the nicest girl she ever met. It doesn't

take her much time to figure out that nice has nothing to do with it.

Hope you like it, happy reading.

EggWhites.

*

I walked up the stairs heading to my apartment. I started tiptoeing once I'd reached the third floor. The bastard's door was open, and I knew his ears were on full attention, waiting for me to get home. He'd been bugging me for his precious rent forever. As if the twerp didn't understand the meaning of a recession.

Luckily, I reached my floor without him noticing. As I walk along the corridor to my apartment, my face bearing a sly look of victory, I halt. In front of my door were two suitcases, both mine. It took me a while to realize: the son of a bitch evicted me. He even went as far as to pack my suitcases for me.

I walked back, this time stomping towards his apartment and slammed my hand a couple times on his open door. He came to the front door after a while, his face faintly smirking. He disgusted me, this guy. He was always in his little white, yellow-stained tank top, leaving half his hair chest and the lower part of his big belly on display for lucky me.

"Hey Jen." He leaned with his hand on the door frame, and I took a step back from his stench.

"Don't Jen me." I wiggled my head aggressively. "What is my stuff doing at my door?"

"You mean to tell me you have my rent?" He smirked and opened his palm to me, as if he already knew the answer.

"I told you I'll get it in a couple of days."

"Well it has been a couple of weeks. What you think I'll play mouse and cat with you forever." He scoffed, and my aggressiveness went a bit soft. "You have my rent or what?"

"Look just give me a couple--"

"Bitch get the hell outta here." He waved his hand dismissively.

"I can't, okay. I have nowhere to go," I said, "you know that." The embarrassment of my pleading didn't escape me. To have to plead with someone you despise, really takes a kick at your dignity. "Come on please?"

He sighed, taking his time, as he looked at me thoughtfully, barely able to keep the smirk off his face. He was loving this. The desperation on my face turned to hope, then he said, "I mean... My offer from last time still stands."

My brown eyes narrowed and my face shrunk in disgust and anger both. What I was about to do would probably be unwise. But I had told him what would happen if he ever made a request like that again. It was only right I follow up on my threat.

I nodded, watching a sly smile climb up his sweaty face. I took a step back, dragged my leg back then shot my sneakered foot forward, hitting him right in the groin.

"Ahh--" He shouted as he kneeled, his hands holding his crotch. "Fuck--Bitch."

I left him on the ground and went up to gather my suitcases. As I walked down the stairs dragging them behind me, the turd-bag who was still kneeling at the ground warned, "You better not come back here." I was about to go out the building, when my eyes randomly glanced in his apartment. The side table just beside the door had a green bill on it. While he still laid there in pain, I stepped over him, grabbed the twenty bucks, then stepped back and got out of the building.

From here, there was only one logical place for me to go.

I brought my glass of bourbon to my mouth and took a gulp, only to realize it was empty. So I slammed it back on the bar and my eyes instinctively started looking for Rayan. There he was.

"Ray," I said, putting as much friendliness into my drunken tone as I could.

He sighed, looking down at the glass he's wiping. "Yeah Jen?"

"Can I have a refile?"

"Depends." He said, hunkering over the bar and narrowing his eyes at me. "You gonna pay for that one." He nodded towards my empty glass.

"Sure..." I said, nodding, smiling.

He didn't move a muscle, just stood there and looked at me, waiting.

"Come on..." I whined. "Where's the trust we used to have huh."

"Where's the money?"

"Put it on my tap."

"Honey do I look stupid to you." He said. "Either pay for this one so I could hand you another. Or piss off. I have customers." He turned towards a pair of girls who sat at a couple of seats to my left.

"I have customers." I couldn't help mocking, but he ignored me.

I rested my elbows on the bar and laid my face in my palms, taking a moment. For a while I wished there was anything in my suitcases expensive enough to trade for a drink. I paid for two glasses already, and got away with a free one, but I needed a fourth, maybe a fifth. I was probably gonna sleep on the street tonight, and didn't want to do that conscious. Or maybe I'd fall asleep right here and Rayan would feel bad for me, keep me till the morning. He was a good guy; after all the free drinks I bunked out of him, he still didn't make me pay in advance.

A year ago I thought that I hit rock bottom. But the following year showed me how wrong I was to think that. At least then I had a job, lived in an apartment that didn't smell like piss, had a couple of friends. Only reason it had felt like rock bottom then, was cause I hated my job and that the big load of money I had started running out quicker than anticipated.

After getting myself fired from the job, and after what remained of my money completely ran out, I started living on friends' couches--the friends that I had spent that big load of money with. Each one tolerated me for a couple of weeks then came up with some bullshit excuse, like in-laws coming to visit or sisters or boyfriends moving in. Last one was honest though, she just told me to piss off and that she wasn't my mother. She suggested I go to my sisters, but she knew I would never do that--cause fuck my sister.

I whined through my palms. I hated the fact I may have to go to her now, hat in hand. But I didn't have much of a choice now did I. Finding a job was a lost cause; I spent the last four months trying. And I literally had nowhere else to go.

I heard some glasses being placed somewhere in front of me, and I knew that was Rayan working. "Ray..." I whined, with my face still in palms.

I heard him sigh. "What?"

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"So you could rob me." He snickered. "Not a chance."

I held my heavy head up and looked at him, an innocent pout on my face. "Give me Scotch on the rocks then."

"Jen I swear to god--" He shook his head, raising a finger. "And what the hell are you still doing here. Thought I told you to leave?"

"Thought you were kidding."

He winced, "Bitch get the hell out of here."

"FINE." I said, genuinely upset and hurt. Being thrown out of two places in the same night didn't make me feel that well, neither the fact that I had finally managed to irritate the nicest, calmest guy I knew. I grabbed my two suitcases and went out the door.

The bar was in an alley. A shady ally that didn't look that nice. This really wasn't the best neighborhood. I would've been nervous, that was if I had something worth stealing. My messy blonde hair and cheap ragged blouse and jeans, and probably my face and the sight of me drunkenly staggering alone must've said it all: No money. No valuable belongings. And no home. A complete homeless girl at the age of twenty-six. My life was officially fucked.

I could feel some of the bourbon numbing me, not as much as I hoped for, but it made me feel a bit less shitty about my situation.

I hadn't yet gotten ten meters away from the bar, when my eyes lit up at spotting a lonely girl walking down from the opposite direction. She was young, had long black hair that ran over her shoulders, wore a workout black hoodie and black shorts that reached down just above her knees. As she walked closer, my studying, drunken eyes quickly snapped to the lovely pair of AirPods in her ears; iPhone AirPods. I could recognize them a mile away.

There was a skill--if one could call it that--I wasn't that proud of but didn't shy away from using every now and then, whenever the situation called for it. It was...basically scaring people into giving me money. It wasn't mugging. Mugging included violence. I wouldn't do that, of course.

I always played the part perfectly. I'd be drunk and dragging my feet drunkenly along the street, and apparently, my sight would be worrying enough so that the victim would spare me ten or twenty bucks. If not, I always had my little toy as extra encouragement.

Last time I did it, it was with this guy and his girlfriend. They looked posh, not from around here. I just approached them, which immediately put them at unease for some reason. Next I told them I needed ten bucks to get home. They tried walking past me, ignoring me, so I got into their way, blocking them. They held their ground, the guy saying he didn't have any to spare and the girl just watching, her nervousness obvious. Eventually, I--unfortunately--had to take out my toy. That got the brunet beauty to go nuts and tug her boyfriend's arm like a little girl and tell him to just give me some damn money--luckily not directing any of her speech to me, which would've made me shy away a bit.

The girl in front of me now didn't seem like she'd be a harder challenge than them. Easier, even. I bet, if she was extra wimpy, I could get her to give me those lovely pair of AirPods. Hell, maybe her phone to go with it. If sold, it could buy me a month's rent somewhere--somewhere shitty, but still. Probably a couple bottles of Whisky too. I only worried about the fact that I had never pulled this trick on a girl before, as I always found it a bit harder to even talk to them if I didn't know them well, especially if they were a cute little thing like this one. But like hell this would stop me now. I grinned, feeling the booze accompanied by adrenaline rushing through me and pushing me forward.

"Hey there girly." I approached her slowly.

She halted, kept her hands in her hoodie's pockets, and looked at me. "...Hey." She said, taking one earphone off. She just stood still. I could tell she was nervous.

"Where you going?" I asked.

She just narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow, like she was telling me 'what kind of question was that?' It was a stupid a question, just trying to pave the way.

I took a step closer. "Lovely headphones you have there."

"Yeah...So?" She said, tilting her head, her eyes still aggressively narrowing at me.

Something told me the AirPords were a lost cause. I only did this thing like three times before. The girl in front of me now didn't seem as passive, or as soft as I initially thought. But I could still probably get some money out of her and go back to the bar, buy myself a beer.

She shook her head dismissively then tried to walk past me, so I stepped in her way. "Hey hey..." I drawled. "Why the rush?" We were awfully close now, and my confidence peaked at noticing I was a bit taller than her. I was 5 foot 5. She was probably an inch or two shorter. I wouldn't lay a hand on her, but, the idea was that should think I would.

I looked straight in her green eyes. She looked impatient, not scared. "You need something?" She sighed.

"Just need a twenty."

"Can't help you."

"Then a ten."

"Can't. Help. You."

"Come on girl," I stepped closer, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Help a sister out."

"How about you get your filthy hand off my shoulder." She smiled sarcastically.

"..." The insult offended me, surprisingly. Her tone in general. It was like she was disgusted by me. Which was maybe understandable, but, it still hurt? "Or what?" I said, inching closer, not removing my hand.

Both of us just stood there, holding eye contact. My anger showed on my face clearly. After a while, she just, shook her head with a snicker, then walked past me, causing my hand to slip. I stood there, not planning to go after her. Bitch looked ready to fight, and I had no intention to do that, even if I could somehow kick her ass in my drunken state.

She walked away. "Loser."

I turned abruptly upon hearing the word, feeling my face burn with anger. "HEY." I shouted. I so didn't like that word.

She halted, not turning to face me, and I could see her shoulder rise and fall as she sighed, as if I was boring her. She turned on her heel. I walked a couple of steps in her direction. "What did you call me?"

"Loser." She said, her face cold, but with the faintest amused smile on her lips.

Just like that I hated the bitch's guts. My hand instinctively reached into my back pocket and took out my knife. I held it forward in front of my chest, aiming it at her.

Her face fell in obvious fear as her eyes settled on the knife in my hand. She was afraid now, and the fact filled me with joy. "Say that again. Bitch," I said.

Her eyes snapped back to my face. I didn't know if it was anger or utter fear inside them. I took my chances and inched closer. Her poster changed, weirdly. She was wearing flip-flops, and for some reason, shifted one foot forward, keeping the other behind, and positioned one arm in front of her chest.

"Okay..." I chuckled, shaking my head. I took a step closer to her. "Give me a ten or we're gonna have a problem--"

I saw her turn, then quickly turn back, with her leg raised and her foot high. I didn't really understand what happened at that moment. My brain vibrated inside my skull, the side of my face felt like it wasn't there, and the other side stung like there was a hot plate pushing against it. My vision went black for a second, and when I opened my eyes again, I felt dizzy from the view. The world was sideways. It took me a moment to realize I was lying belly down on the ground.

Feeling my whole head throbbing, I tried to get up, only to have something rubbery pin my cheek down to the harsh asphalt. It took me a moment to realize that what was rubbing against my cheek, holding me in place, was the rubber sole of her flip-flop. To hold me down, the bitch chose to use her foot of all things to step on my face of all places. She wasn't stepping that harshly, but it still hurt, especially with the bad stony asphalt rubbing against my other cheek.

"Fucking bitch--Aw."

She applied more pressure, making me cry out. My face reddened with anger first, and then with humiliation when I saw a couple of guys walking past us, their eyes, merely interested and a bit amused, moving between me and her; they didn't look like they were gonna intervene though.

"...Step off." I said.

"So you could stab me." After a brief silence, she said. "I think I'm calling the cops."

I was surprised by how little I gave a fuck about her threat. But I still cared enough to tell her the truth. "Look it's not even real, okay..." I muttered with my lips pursed.

If she was confused, I didn't see it. After a moment, she crouched, still using my damn face as a step, and snatched the knife that had fallen an arm away from me. It was one of those plastic knives which had a blade that slips inside its handle; it couldn't stab shit. She probably realized that, as I heard her give an amused sigh above me.

"You're a joke you know that." she said, a bit of harbored resentment in her tone. I heard something break, then saw my little toy tumble to the ground broken into two parts.

Knife was gone, I wasn't dangerous anymore, and still she kept me under there. I didn't find the power in me to protest. I was humiliated, yes, but I didn't think asking her politely to step off my head again would help my dignity at this point. And on top all of that, something was keeping me strangely still and calm, a weird feeling that I didn't understand. It might be the booze rushing through me, or the fact that I had just had my brain almost kicked out of my skull, but deep in my stomach I felt a soothing throb. And it made me anxious, feeling a good thing while being in such a miserable situation.

But fortunately, I didn't get to freak out about it for long, as the girl, finally, took her foot off. My palm instinctively went to feel my face. God. I could feel the imprint of her sole on my cheek. I straightened up, kneeling on the street with my legs tucked under me. I didn't want to look at her face I was so embarrassed, but I forced myself to anyway.

She gave me an unimpressed look. I foolishly hopped she'd give me a hand. She didn't, of course. She just shook her head at me, her eyes not able to hide her disdain, then she turned on her heel and walked away, putting her headphones back on.

I hated her so much I wanted to run and jump her. But I knew she didn't deserve it. If anything, she let me off lightly, considering what I had done. She could've kicked my ass--should've, maybe.

I stayed on the ground, for some reason. I didn't want to get up. It was like this incident was the cherry on top of my fucked-up life. I heard some footsteps inching in my direction, and I looked up to see Ray above me.

"You alright?" he said, tilting his head at me empathetically.

I shrugged, and I could feel my eyes burning before they grew red.

He sighed. "Come on." He reached with his hand to help me up, and I took it.

It was about an hour later. Bar was closed, and me and Rayan sat in the corner table, him drinking a beer, me a coffee--cause according to him I had enough beer for one day.

"So what are you gonna do now?" he said.

"...Rob a bank, I think."

"Yeah." He snickered. "Like you just robbed that girl."

"Fuck you--" I brushed him off. "Such a bitch." I rubbed my cheek. The print of her flip-flop's sole hadn't left my cheek until recently. And the whole side of my face still throbbed. It was as if she'd slammed me with a steel baseball bat.

"You did raise a knife at her." He took a sip from his beer. "I told you not to do that shit anymore."

"I don't do it that often."

"Three times are often enough. To be honest part of me was...a small part...was amused at seeing you get yours."

The frown on my face made him chuckle. "What! I said a small part."

That wasn't what bothered me. "You were watching the whole time?"

"I was gonna intervene...really." He nodded. "But then I decided against it after she went Jaki Chan on your ass."

"Puft..." I rolled my eyes. "Sissy."

He giggled, then looked at me passively, as if waiting for me to answer the previous question seriously. I didn't have an answer. "I don't know."

"Your sister's?"

"I thought about it, but she'll probably not let me stay for more than a couple of days, and honestly, it won't be worth the amount of shit she'll give me."

He nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"God." I run my palms over my face, truly lost. "All I need is a job."

"We're in a recession." He shrugged, looking away. "And frankly, your chances wouldn't be that great even if we weren't."

I waited for him to say the words I was waiting to hear. Then I waited more then I lost hope. So I said mine, "I can work for you agai--"

"No." He shook his head.

"Ray come on." I whined. "I'm desperate here."

"Sorry." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Was I really that bad?"

"...Yes you were." His eyes narrowed. "And don't pretend like you forgot what you did."

"..." The convection in his eyes forced my eyes to flick away in shame. "It won't happen again."

"That's pretty assuring but... I'll pass."

"..." He had every right, and I felt pathetic and evil at the same time insisting, but I had no choice. "We're friends. Come on give me another chance--"

"Enough." He said, coldly, but firmly. "You robbed me. I forgave you. I really did. But that doesn't mean I'll hire you."

That squashed what little hope I had left. And it must've showed on my face, because his cold face turned empathetic, as he leaned forward and gave my arm a gentle stroke. "Look, you'll figure it out. If you want I'll drive you the bus station tomorrow so that you can go to your sister's. You can crash here tonight."