Shaking my head at the silly idea of painting, I make my way into the kitchen. I should probably call my brother before he freaks out. It’s still early and I don’t want to forget. Grabbing the phone off the counter, I dial his cell.

It rings twice before going to voicemail, letting me know I just got the ‘fuck you, ignore’ button, but I’m not surprised. Sam never answers phone numbers he doesn’t recognize. I wish I still had a cell phone so I could just text him, but I guess I’ll just leave a message.

“Sam, it’s Becs, just wanted to let you know I won’t be home tonight. I landed a sweet new job that comes with room and board and pays a lot more, so I’ll still be able to help with the rent. I’ll come by around ten tomorrow morning so I can give you all the details. I love you and don’t worry. See you tomorrow, and I’ll bring breakfast. Be safe,” I say before hanging up. I wish I could’ve left a number, but maybe he’ll call back using the caller id of the number that came up.

I hate not being there to make sure he makes it home, too. If he lands himself in jail again, he has no way of getting ahold of me. Or worse, he could end up in the hospital. I love my brother, and though we may not be related by blood, he’s still my brother. He has been for years. Since I was ten years old and he beat the shit out of our foster father when the bastard snuck into my room one night. Sam didn’t come out unscathed. He spent a night in the hospital and had three broken fingers. We got transferred the next day to new homes, and luckily we ended up in the same house. We were always able to land in the same homes after that, until we were old enough to leave on our own. We’ve been jumping from shelter to shelter and the random motels over the past few months.

I’ve only been on the street for about eight months now, but most of the foster homes felt like living on the streets anyways. It wasn’t a big difference, just with the foster homes you always knew you had a place to lay your head at night. We were just checks to most of them, though. Even the times when I tried to be perfect for them, they still didn’t give a shit. That’s when I stopped caring what people thought about me. My parents didn’t want me, no foster family ever wanted to keep me, but I always had Sam. He’s been my one constant since I was ten.

He’s been getting himself mixed up in some bad stuff lately. There are certain people you just stay clear of, but Sam can’t seem to do that. He likes to play with the wrong people, which scares the hell out of me. Nico is the worst. He gives me the freaking creeps with the way he looks at me. It reminds me of a few of my foster fathers’ looks. I know he deals, and God knows what else, but Sam just can’t stay away from him. Every time I bring up not hanging out with Nico anymore, he snaps at me. I think he might be doing jobs for him after Nico gave me the money to bail him out of jail. Sam made me get the money from him, and to say the situation of asking Nico for money was easy is putting it mildly. He practically threw it at me. Ever since then, Nico pretends like he has some claim on me. I keep trying to give him the money back but he won’t take it. Now he randomly shows up to places I’m at. At least now he won’t know where I work anymore.

I took a beating a few months back trying to find Sam at a known drug house I heard he was at. I hadn’t seen him for three days, and I got so worried I went looking for him. It was dumb going in alone, but I had no one else to go with me.

I got cornered by a couple of guys, and while I was fighting them off, they got a few blows in on me. Luckily the cops showed up, and I managed to get away in the commotion. When I finally made it back to the shelter we’d been staying at, he was there, still strung out. I’m not sure how he got to the shelter, or who let him in. Usually if you look high they boot your ass out.

Soon after, I got us the motel room. I wanted to keep Sam clean and away from the shelters. It’s easy to get mixed in with the wrong people down there sometimes, but I think he’s still at it. Some of the girls give me shit for always helping him out, but I owe him this. He protected me for years and it’s my turn to return the favor now that I can, even if it is just some crappy motel.

Opening the fridge, my stomach growls at the contents. All vegetables, fruit and...is that soy milk? I’m really going to have to go to the store if I’m staying here. I need some real food. Grabbing a bowl of grapes and a bottle of water, I pop a couple into my mouth and start searching the drawers.

Bingo. Finding a cookbook, I pull it out and shuffle through the pages, marking the corner of recipes that catch my attention. When I finally get to the end of the book, I look up and notice the sun has set. I can’t believe how long I took going through that book. I’ve never had a kitchen all to myself to cook in before. I can’t wait to try something out tomorrow on Vanilla.

Snatching my water and grapes off the counter, I head to my room. When I reach the end of the hall I’m unsure where to go. He didn’t take me up on my offer to sleep with me so he likely wants me to stay in one of the guest rooms. With that thought, I make my way into his room. I set my water and bowl of grapes on the nightstand, throw the covers back, and crawl into his bed. This room is just as boring as the rest of his house. There isn’t even a TV in here. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a TV anywhere. Who doesn’t have a TV? At least I have the view of the city from the bed, and that’s not so bad.

The walls are off-white and bare. His closet door is open and I can see all his suits lined up in color order—the color order being gray, blue, and black. Crawling back out of the bed, I enter his closet. It’s like the world’s most boring dream closet and it’s driving me crazy. One by one I move the suits around, disturbing the order. Let’s see how he likes that in the morning. Maybe I’ll wait up and pretend to be sleeping, just to see his reaction to the bathroom and closet, and me in his bed. I don’t know why I’m pushing my luck. He’ll probably just fire me. But today in his office when I poked at him, and he got so worked up, I reveled in the emotion that crossed his face. I want to do it again.