When she wasn’t at Harry’s side, she was working at a local diner, trying to make enough money to cover whatever Harry’s disability insurance couldn’t. It wasn’t the inspiring college experience she’d been expecting in her early twenties, but it was the right thing to do, and Lexi never regretted her decision to leave NYU and care for Harry.
“Lexi?” Hope’s voice broke her from her gloomy trip down memory lane. The knowing look on her friend’s face told Lexi that she understood completely. Hope’s parents had passed away a couple years earlier, and it was one of the things that bonded them together. They really understood each other in a way most people couldn’t. “Today’s your dad’s birthday, isn’t it?” Hope’s hand reached out to meet Lexi’s and gave a comforting squeeze.
A single tear rolled down Lexi’s cheek. “Yep, he would have been sixty-three years old today.” She brushed the tear from her face. “But he’s spending this birthday with my mom, so that makes me feel better. He missed her so much after she died.” Lexi took a deep breath and raised the margarita that Hope had poured her. “Happy birthday, Dad.”
“Happy birthday, Harry!” With a sad smile, Hope raised her glass as well, tapping it against the side of Lexi’s.
Hungry, Lexi heaped jalapeños onto her taco, making Hope’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head.
“You aren’t going to eat those, are you?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You’ll burn the tonsils right out of your mouth!”
Lexi laughed out loud. “One of these days I’m going to get you to come to that Thai restaurant on High Street with me, Hope. Then you’ll have a whole new appreciation for spicy foods.” Lexi crammed two more peppers onto the taco before taking a huge bite out of it. “So, how was work?” she mumbled, her mouth full of food.
Hope owned one of the busiest custom body shops in the bay area, Crowbar. The shop was known in all the car circles, and did everything from restorations to custom paint jobs, interiors, and body work. Hope had eight male employees, and every single one of the burly guys that worked at Crowbar was scared to death of her. Hope’s dad, Big Al, had taught his only daughter at a very early age not to take crap from anyone, and Hope learned that lesson to a T. She had inherited the shop from him when he passed away.
“It wasn’t too bad. This guy came in and wanted this custom, two-tone paint job with these intricate freehand flames painted down the length of the car. The jerk had the nerve to get pissed when I told him how much it would cost. He actually accused me of ripping him off and made some rude comment about women having no business working on cars, so I had Max show him the door.” Hope shook her head in disgust. “I mean, come on.
Just because I’m a woman they think they can push me around so I’ll change my mind or back down? Please. And I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cocky, but no one in town but me can do what he’s asking. Mark my words; he’ll be back, and soon.”
“How can you be so sure?” Lexi asked as she wiped the sour cream from the corner of her mouth.
“Because he’s one of those street racers, and he wants that car to be all badass for his next race. Of course when he comes back,” Hope confidently flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and leaned back in her chair, “I’m jacking the price up another five hundred dollars, and I think I’ll make him beg me to do it in front of all the guys. That should teach the little prick some manners.”
“Will these guys ever learn to not mess with you, Hope?” Lexi shook her head, laughing.
“If they’re smart, they will.” Hope followed Lexi into the kitchen with her empty plate and began rinsing it off in the sink. “So, how was your day? Any luck on the job hunt?” She bent over and placed her plate in the dishwasher, then she began gathering up the bowls and putting the leftovers into Tupperware.
For the last couple of months, Lexi had been working as a cashier in a vintage record store. She was able to chat with customers and listen to all kinds of music during the day, but it was hardly a career. She was twenty-eight years old, and it was time to start thinking about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, a life that was now hers to lead without anything holding her back.
“I went and interviewed at this law firm for the secretarial position they were advertising, but it wasn’t for me. All those years of just Harry and me, it’s hard to get used to having people barking orders all the time. I’m used to doing things on my schedule, not theirs.” Lexi snapped the lid back onto the sour cream. “Maybe moving to San Francisco wasn’t the smartest move. But I had to get out of Riverdale before I was smothered to death.”
Hope wiped down the counter, tossed the towel into the sink, and lead Lexi by the hand into the family room. She snatched the newspaper off the coffee table and sat on the couch, patting the soft leather until Lexi reluctantly sat down beside her.
“You did the right thing coming here. Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed by everything. Let’s take baby steps and work on the new job thing. I want to start at the beginning. Before you left school, wasn’t your major marketing?” Hope flipped through the paper looking for the classified section and handed it to Lexi, then scooped up Lexi’s laptop and waited for it to startup.
“Technically, I was studying business. I wanted to go into advertising, and probably would have minored in graphic art. My dream job would have been to work for an ad firm and work on print ads and presentations, but that was a lifetime ago. Now I’d probably be best at a job in home health care, nursing, or housekeeping since that’s what I’ve been doing for the last eight years. Look and see if there’s a job for adult babysitter; I’d be good at that,” Lexi said with a defeated sigh.
Hope looked up from the computer where she was searching the web for job listings in the area. “Lexi, you have to move on now, decide what you want to do. What do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked with a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“Fine, my dream job would be in advertising. However, I don’t think my year and a half of college credits will be enough to even get my foot in the door these days. Nor will my resume with ‘home healthcare provider’ listed as my primary job for the last eight years. I have nothing to offer them—
no experience, no portfolio stuffed with projects I’ve worked on. Chances are they’d just laugh in my face and send me on my merry way.” Lexi’s shoulders sagged as she tossed her head back onto the leather cushion of her couch. “Just find me a waitressing job or something.”