Roommate Arrangement

Dancing Shoes

Jade

Being employed is very good for one's ego, even if the employment is of a questionable nature. I'm choosing to look at it as a fringe role in a fringe-type production in order to make myself feel reasonably okay about the whole thing. I have a job. That's the most important part.

The potentially scandalous nature of the employment is secondary to the actual income I'm about to generate. And it won't be provided by Perrie. It means when she comes back, I won't be reliant on her for money. That brings me one step closer to self-sufficiency. I'd really like to see whether all this flirting will turn into something else, but not when it feels like I'm being bought or kept.

That's exactly what it's felt like with my father; he paid for my education and my life, but it came with an expiration date and huge side of shame. It's also how my mother seemed to exist for a long time. She bought her complacency in their marriage until she decided it wasn't worth the price anymore. Moving to Alaska was an extreme measure, but I understand it better now that I'm getting out from under his bricks of money, and I never want to end up in that kind of situation ever again.

When Perrie calls later I'm all smiles. Until I realize I'm going to have to fudge my job title. Theater is one thing, burlesque isn't quite on par with what's acceptable employment in my world, and if it gets back to my father, it won't be good. I also don't want Perrie to know. She went batshit when she thought I was showing cleavage to one of Armstrong's friends. She'd probably have a heart attack if she saw what I was going to wear on a daily basis at work. I don't need to deal with that at the moment.

"You're in a good mood," she observes.

I'm lying on her bed with Francesca, who's playing in my hair. My feet are killing me, but I don't care. I have a job.

"I'm gainfully employed."

"That's fantastic, Jade! You had an audition? Or was it a job interview? Either way we should celebrate. I'll order some champagne and you can open a bottle on your end."

"We're not having champagne. It's not that kind of job."

"It's a job, that's all that matters! Go get yourself a drink."

"You're a little bossy, aren't you?" I don't argue, though, I wouldn't mind a drink, and sometimes it's important to celebrate, even if it's the little things. I pour myself a glass while she orders room service. I'm halfway through glass number one by the time her bottle arrives. Perrie insists I top my glass up, so I do.

"So tell me about this job of yours," she says, as I make my way back to her bedroom, where I've left Francesca.

If I'd gotten a role in an actual play, it wouldn't be an issue. But this is not quite the same. "It's like... dinner theater." They serve food there, so it counts. Sort of.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"It's a start and a paycheck."

"Both good things."

"Exactly. How about you? How're things in London?" I settle back on her bed.

"Running smoothly now. I'm looking forward to coming home. It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

"I bet. It's a nice bed. You must miss it."

"I do. Especially right now."

"Why right now?"

"Because you're in it."

I prop the phone up against a pillow and rest my chin on my fist. I'm trying not to take that the way I want to. I lower my voice to a sultry whisper. "Are you jealous?"