Nadine had guessed her probation officer was most likely gay from the moment they met due to her butch haircut, bare face, and the men’s shirts she wore on her broad frame. Still, she was surprised that Michaela displayed such a personal photo at work. Probably no one would dare to say anything, not when Michaela looked as if she could kick anyone’s ass.

  Michaela returned to the office and plopped back in her chair. “Where were we?”

  “I was just saying that work is fine. But I’m very concerned about my housing.”

  Michaela scanned Nadine’s paperwork. “When do you leave Renn House?”

  “In just under two weeks. I asked again about an extension, and they said there’s no way. Someone else is moving in the day I get released.”

  Michaela frowned. “That’s not much time. Have you been looking? Did you call the landlords on the list I gave you?”

  “I called them all, but they’re either full or the rent is too high. My paycheck is pitiful, and I don’t have savings anymore. My money is gone.” Thanks to private security costs, legal fees, and fines imposed at sentencing, her finances were decimated. What little had remained in her bank account during prison had covered the last two months of food, transportation, and health expenses.

  “What about renting a room? Perhaps from a friend?”

  Nadine shook her head. “I’ve responded to ads for housemates, but they all back out when they find out I’m a felon or when I tell them my name. As for friends, I don’t have anyone I can ask.”

  “Right.” Michaela looked thoughtful. “You’re in a unique situation.”

  “I can’t be the only offender with this problem.” Nadine thought of her suitemates at Renn House. Jodie had still been looking for work when her three months ended; she had moved in with family. Jenna would have to leave in about a month and still had nothing lined up.

  “Oh, you’re not. Lots of folks struggle with housing after prison. But the ones who end up on the street tend to be elderly sex offenders and chronic addicts—people who truly have nowhere to go. I didn’t say your situation was harder. It’s not. It’s just different.”

  “Because I’m famous.”

  “Yes. But also because you don’t have much of a support network. Most people like you—educated, professional—have friends and family with resources. They get back on their feet right away. But you always say you don’t have anyone. Is that really true, or are you too proud to ask?”

  “Um, I’m close with my sister, Patricia. But she lives in the Philippines with her husband. And I can’t ask her for money. They’re just getting by as it is, and she has a baby. It’s the same with my other relatives. They all live in the Philippines, and they don’t have much.”

  “What about your friends? And all the people you knew from politics?”

  “I had plenty of colleagues and contacts but not many I would call friends. Most people resented my access to Alyssa. Plus, I was usually the bad guy who dealt with underperforming staffers or anyone who didn’t have her best interests at heart. I was close to a few people at one time, but now…not so much.”

  Nadine shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but in truth, those friendships were a real loss. The only people she had called friends were like her—fiercely loyal to Alyssa. But thanks to the scandal, those people hated her more than anyone.

  “They blame me,” Nadine said softly. “They blame me for Alyssa losing the election. Most of them hate me.”

  “Okay.” Michaela jotted something on a notepad. “I’m going to make a few calls. In the meantime, keep applying for apartments and rooms. And really think about your network. I know they’re angry with you, but I can’t imagine that every last one of them would refuse to help. Would they really want you to be homeless?”

  The word echoed in her brain. Were they really talking about this? “I’ll think about who I can ask.”

  “Reach out to some people. Someone might have a connection in the area or be willing to loan you some money.” Michaela paused. “Sometimes forgiveness comes from the person you least expect.”

  Nadine couldn’t imagine that anyone would forgive what she had supposedly done, but there was one person she might ask, the one person aside from her sister who knew the truth.

  Alyssa Jackson was the last person Nadine wanted to call, and yet it seemed she had no other options.

  * * *

  As Nadine broke down one box after another, she tried to think of a solution to her housing dilemma. Another day of emails and phone calls had gotten her nowhere.

  She considered her options if she failed to find housing in the next week and a half. She had enough money for four, maybe five nights in a motel. After that, she could try homeless shelters or living in her car. She had no idea what else she could do. Where did people in her situation go at night?

  During Chicago winters, homeless people often spent their nights on the L train, riding from Howard to 95th Street and back again, over and over. Nadine had seen them when she’d taken the train to Alyssa’s downtown district office early in the morning. But the Richmond area barely had a functional bus system, let alone a train that ran all night.

  Just call Alyssa. Nadine knew it was ridiculous to think about sleeping in her car when she knew someone with plenty of resources who could help—and who owed her everything. She just wished there were another way.

  The metal doors swung open. Bella’s long hair was loosely tied to one side, and her earthy eyeshadow made her brown eyes pop. God. She was stunning.

  “What’s wrong?” Bella asked.

  How did Bella read her so well? “Nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing here at the store. Just the usual ups and downs of life as a convicted felon.”

  Bella sat on a box. “Tell me.”

  Nadine sliced through another box as she decided how much to say. She was ashamed of her situation, but part of her wanted to tell someone. “I’m being discharged from the foundation soon, and I’m having trouble finding a place to live.”

  Bella’s eyes widened. “You don’t have anywhere to go?”

  Nadine continued to break down boxes as she recounted her attempts to secure an apartment. When she finished, she finally looked at Bella.

  Bella’s face creased with worry. “Where will you go if you don’t find anything?”

  Nadine shrugged. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “You can stay with me,” Bella said without a hint of uncertainty.

  The offer was unexpected but not really surprising. Bella was a kind person with a big heart. Of course she would offer her home to someone in need. “Thank you, but I couldn’t impose on you. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. I have a one-bedroom apartment, so there’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I should warn you, though: I’m a terrible slob. But I’m trying to get better about picking up after myself. Anyway, I’d enjoy the company. Really.”

  Bella seemed to be sincere. Still, Nadine couldn’t accept, could she?

  Moving in would disrupt Bella’s life. She’d be too nice to say anything, but Nadine worried it wouldn’t be long before she resented having someone else in her space.

  At the same time, Nadine had to consider the ethics of sharing an apartment with a beautiful woman who didn’t know she was gay, let alone attracted to her. There were so many reasons not to say yes. But faced with the alternative, Nadine didn’t want to say no either.

  “Let’s see how the next few days go. I’ve left messages to follow up on my applications. A place could come through any day.”

  “Okay. But if you don’t find something, you’re coming to stay with me. No arguing. I won’t let you live on the streets, for God’s sake.”

  “I wouldn’t be on the streets. I have my car.”

  “No!” Bella slapped her hand on a box. “Lord. You will not sleep in your car. I won’t allow it. Hell no.”

  Nadine was used to sweet, accommodating Bella; she had rarely seen her so resolute about anything. But she couldn’t—could she? “Let’s just see.”

  * * *

  Nadine paced her small bedroom, clutching her phone.

  For about the tenth time that evening, she tapped Contacts, selected a number listed only as AJ, and stared at the call icon.

  She hadn’t spoken to Alyssa Jackson in over two years. Alyssa hadn’t contacted her in prison, not even a letter. Nothing. She had no idea if her former boss even had the same phone number. But she was running out of options.

  Nadine held her breath as it rang. At least the number hadn’t been disconnected—that was a good sign. Then she heard the voicemail greeting, unchanged from years earlier. Hi there. You’ve reached Alyssa’s phone. You know what to do.

  Nadine couldn’t speak on a recording, not about what she really had to say. She hung up and tossed the phone on the bed.

  And then it rang.

  Nadine’s hand trembled as she answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Nadine. It’s really you.” Alyssa’s voice was exactly the same as she remembered—deep with a slight midwestern accent.

  “Yes.” Suddenly Nadine was at a loss for words. “It’s me.”

  “I heard you got out. I’m happy for you.”

  That broke the spell. Alyssa was happy for her? Nadine nearly choked. A few years ago, she would have done anything just so Alyssa would smile at her. Now, ten seconds into a conversation, she wanted to slap her.

  “We really shouldn’t be speaking,” Alyssa continued. “Still, I’m glad you called. It’s nice to know that you’re okay.”

  Nadine found her voice. “Okay? I’m not okay. I’m broke. I’m about to be homeless.”

  “Homeless?” Alyssa gasped. “How is that possible?”

  “Because I don’t have any fucking money, Alyssa. Because I blew up my life to protect you, and now I’m working for minimum wage. I can’t afford an apartment. And no one wants me as a roommate, considering I’m a convicted felon and despised by the entire nation.”

  Alyssa was silent for several seconds. Then she asked, “Why did you call me?”

  Nadine closed her eyes. “Because I need help. I need money.”

  “I wish I could help. I really do.” Alyssa sighed. “But I’ve already done what I could.”

  Nadine’s eyes popped open. “What? What did you do? You haven’t done anything.”

  “How do you think you got into Renn House?” Alyssa’s tone turned haughty. “Do you think they wanted the public scrutiny that came with offering you a bed when there aren’t enough beds for offenders who really need them?”

  Nadine’s chest tightened. “You bribed them to take me?”

  “I didn’t bribe anyone.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice. “I called in a favor. I knew the press would be all over it when you got out. I thought it would be better if you went somewhere secure, away from Washington, someplace that could keep the reporters away.”

  “So that’s why I got in.” Alyssa had helped, but only because it was in her own interest. Of course.

  “Yes. I took a big risk to help you out.” Alyssa waited as if expecting a thank-you.

  Nadine had none to give her. “Can’t you call in another favor? I need long-term housing. I need a better job.” She hated that it sounded like whining. Maybe she could appeal to Alyssa’s self-interest once more. “Imagine if someone spotted me sleeping in my car. The press would cover it, and you would be back in the news.”

  “Oh, Nadine. I can’t do that. Someone might trace it back to me, and then everything would be thrown into question. I’m supposed to hate you, remember? We shouldn’t even be talking. It’s too risky.”

  “Too risky for you,” Nadine said flatly. She had nothing left to risk.

  “I’m going to run again. For president.”

  “I thought you might. You know that’s going to be hell for me, right?” Another run meant another eighteen months of news coverage. The scandal would be rehashed, and Nadine’s name would be back in the news every time Alyssa’s opponents brought it up. How can we trust you to lead when you didn’t know your own senior advisor was accepting bribes in your name?

  “I can’t do what we always dreamed about, all of the good things we wanted to do for the country, if I’m connected to you. It’s not that I don’t care for you. You know I do. But I need to put the country first.”

  Oh please. The noble patriot routine? Alyssa had a lot of nerve to play that card with the one person who knew the truth about her.

  “I’ll always care about you, and I’ll always be thankful,” Alyssa said, “but I need to keep you at a distance. Do you understand?”

  Nadine understood all right. The woman who had once cried in her arms, begging for her political life, was discarding her like week-old fish. Just like everyone else. “I don’t seem to have a choice.”

  “Please don’t call me again.”

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 11

  Bella slid the purple candles into a neat row, then stacked an alternating pattern of blue, pink, and yellow candles on top. Organizing candles was one of the few opportunities to be artistic at her job, and she liked to take her time.

  She heard footsteps and looked up to see Grady glaring at her.

  “Forgetting something?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Bella looked at the candles.

  “Shrinkage. How long has she been standing there?” Grady jerked his head. A few yards away, a middle-aged Black woman was browsing the cookware.

  “Oh, um, not long?” Bella really had no idea. In the first days after Grady’s announcement, everyone had made a perfunctory effort to pay more attention to customers—with the exception of Nadine, who seemed to be exempt. But gradually, they had fallen back into their usual routines.

  “Go talk to her. Make sure she’s not stuffing things into her purse.”

  The woman examined the selection of slow cookers on the bottom shelf.

  “I don’t see how she could fit a slow cooker in her purse,” Bella said.

  Grady scowled. “Go.”

  Reluctantly, Bella approached the customer. “Hi there. Can I help you find something?”

  The woman looked up. Her gold cross necklace glimmered under the florescent lights. “No, thank you.” She turned back to the merchandise, moving down the aisle to the pressure cookers.

  Mission accomplished? Bella turned back to see if Grady was still watching.

  He was standing near the endcap, arms crossed over his chest. He pointed, indicating that Bella should follow her.

  Ugh. Bella trailed after the woman, hovering a few feet away.

  The woman shot her a questioning look.

  “Um,” Bella said, “did you know those pots are on sale?”

  “I can see that.” She pointed at the large red sign that said SALE.

  “Oh, right.” Bella felt like an idiot.

  The woman continued down the aisle, then turned the corner. Bella attempted to act as if she happened to be headed in the same direction.

  Halfway down the bath aisle, the woman spun around. “Are you following me?”

  “What? Oh, no. I just—”

  “Do you think I’m going to steal something? Because I’m Black?”

  Bella’s cheeks burned. “It’s not just you. We’re supposed to watch everyone.”

  “What about her?” She pointed to a white woman who was watching the scene with interest.

  Shit. “I’m so sorry. I’m really not racist.”

  “Save it.” Disgust blazed in her eyes. She turned and strode to the exit.

  “See?” Grady appeared behind Bella. His voice was triumphant. “I was right. She was planning to steal something.”

  Bella threw up her hands. “I’m taking my break.”

  She marched to the back of the store and pushed open the stockroom doors.

  Nadine sat on a box, sipping from a bottle of water. Her eyebrows lifted. “What happened?”

  “I hate this shoplifting patrol. It’s so stupid.”

  “Sit down.” Nadine gestured to a short box on the floor. “Tell me what happened.”

  Bella recounted the exchange, her cheeks burning all over again as she remembered the pain in the customer’s eyes. When she finished the story, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Ugh. I’m sorry. Here I am complaining to you when you get harassed every damn place you go.”

  “It’s okay.” Nadine waved her hand. “That’s different.”

  “Maybe. But you’re also, um… Did you ever get racially profiled before you were famous?” As soon as she said it, Bella worried it was rude to ask.

  “On occasion.” Nadine rested her chin on her hand. “When you have brown skin and an accent in this country, people say all kinds of things. I’ve been asked where I’m from more times than I can count—and they don’t mean Illinois. I’ve lived in the States since I was ten, and nobody ever lets me forget that I’m not from here.”

  “I’m so sorry.” The thought of anyone judging Nadine by her race and immigration status made Bella feel even worse.

  “They don’t always say it explicitly. Sometimes I just knew someone was treating me differently because of my race. There’d be this element of suspicion or even hostility that was absent when the same person interacted with someone white. And when I brought it up to my white friends, they were often skeptical—like maybe I imagined it.”

  Bella winced. “I can’t imagine how shitty that would feel.”

  “It doesn’t feel great.”

  “I’m not going to do that again. I mean, Grady told me to do it, but that’s not an excuse. Next time, I’m going to refuse. Asking someone if they need help is one thing, but I’m not going to follow someone around and make them feel like—like that.” She caught herself before she said like a criminal.