Chapter 13

Jesse

It’s almost two when I get home, even though the bar only had me scheduled until midnight. It was a particularly busy night. I made almost $60 in tips, which is damn good for a weeknight. Some nights I don’t even make enough for the cab ride home.

The bottom hinge on my front door of my apartment creaks when I open it. The landlord has been threatening to come fix it, but I can't remember the last time I saw him, not since the time I was two weeks late on rent before I got the job at the bar.

In the darkened living room, I trip over the gravity bong I left out, spilling the stinky water across the carpet again. When I turn on the light in the kitchen, I hear roaches scuttling.

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