If You Were Here by Alafair Burke

Author:Alafair Burke [Burke, Alafair]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780062208354
Amazon: 0062208357
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2013-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY

Dana’s address turned out to be for a three-story townhouse in Prospect Heights. McKenna called upstairs from the street, and Dana soon appeared at an open window on the top floor. “Catch!”

McKenna dodged to the left before the key chain hit her in the kneecaps. Upstairs, Dana was cracking up. “You can’t catch for shit! Third floor. Hopefully you can walk better than you field.”

At the apartment door, Dana said, “Come on in. I’ll give you the tour. This is— Well, this is pretty much it.” She had already opened the daybed and made it up, leaving barely enough room to walk between the open bed and the small TV stand in front of it. Beneath the window was a large desk with two laptops, a giant printer, and stacks of prints. To the side was a narrow galley kitchen.

“Oh, no. Am I taking your only bed?”

“In your dreams, McKenna. Your suppressed lesbian dreams. Nope, over here.” Past the desk, she opened two sliding doors that McKenna had assumed belonged to a closet. Inside was enough space for a full-size bed and a dresser. Compact but efficient, the way a starter New York City apartment should be.

“Thanks again for letting me crash. I promise it’ll just be for the night.”

Dana handed her a full glass of wine from the kitchen counter. “Figured you could use this after the day you’ve had.”

McKenna was happy to accept the offer. Dana clinked her own glass against McKenna’s. “To unemployment.”

The wine was awful, but McKenna said, “Mmm, nice.” She hadn’t known what good wine tasted like when she was twenty-five years old, either. “Word to the wise, though. Don’t joke about unemployment, especially in this economy. Take it from me.”

“Not just you. Me, too. I quit today.”

“What?”

“Solidarity, sister.” Dana held up her fist in a power salute. “Fuck the man. The way they threw you out with no notice?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No way. I’m out of there.”

“You can’t. Call Vance tomorrow morning and tell him you were mad and made a mistake. He’ll take you back. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, right. He was really good when he was shoving a knife in your back.”

“Do not do this for me.” Dana was just a dumb kid with a degree from the New School in some kind of art thing that McKenna had never heard of. A heavily tattooed photographer wouldn’t exactly be a hot ticket on the job market, and—based on her digs—she didn’t seem to have a trust fund lying around. “I’ll be fine. I can always go back to practice. Last time I checked, people still needed lawyers to get them out of jail and whatnot.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I mean, yeah, today seemed like the day to pull the trigger. But I hate it there. I only do it for the paycheck, and it’s not even a good paycheck. I just want to take my weird pictures and make cool stuff that oddball people like me will want to hang on their walls.

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