8. JOBS AND WHORES!

*Edited

Maxwell's POV

"Tell me about him." He suggested, quietly as if giving her a choice to. She side glanced him and sniffed.

"The apartment feels empty without him, everything is haunting me, the couch where he'd pass nights on his school projects and thesis, his to-do lists on the fridge." She paused.

"He had music sheets everywhere, so that any time he got inspiration no matter where he was in the house, he'd write it down." She swallowed and chortled.

"But Jack was a terrible musician, every one knew it, except himself, some times i got mad, that he was wasting money on studio time when he could be helping me, you know, so I didn't tell him how proud of him I was often, that he was chasing his dreams with every bone in his body, because I was mad, I was so mad that I had to start stripping while he got to gallivant his life away." Her laugh turned to sobs again.

He found a box of tissue and handed it to her as she cried.

"I was selfish, I wanted him to give up his dreams, to take care of a man that actually hated him, his own father, I should have spent more time with him, I should have listen to all his mix tapes, all his recordings."

"I should have gone to the studios with him, I should have met his friends, but I was too mad to care, I didn't listen to his songs even when he sent it to my phone, I would always just tell him 'It was good, very soulful'." Her words came out in a slur from all her crying.

"It was my fault, I could have died, but he came back for me, he should have left and saved himself, that was what I would have done, but he came back and when that man shot at me, he took three bullets for me, he took bullets for me!, he died trying to save me, its all my fault."

He shook his head at her words, it wasn't her fault. "Hey, hey, its not, look at me." He urged, raising his voice to get her to stop spiraling.

"Look at me Wilson, its not your fault, at all, its not!." Her eye softened, she stopped shaking. 'Its mine.' He wanted to add, but couldn't, the words died in his mouth, because he knew the implication of that.

She'd be mad, even worse, she'd no longer be safe.

"Bad things happen, okay, that we can't control, and I'm sure your brother wouldn't want you to be living in fear and guilt like this."

She nodded quickly and dried her face. "He wouldn't right?." She asked.

"No, he wouldn't." He answered looking away from the road to her face, she licked her lips, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"I'm so sorry for the outburst, you must think I'm such a kid." She laughed nervously after a while, feeling as his eyes kept darting to her.

He turned back to the road. "No kid would go through what you have gone through and would be conscious to attend lectures. So no, I don’t think you're a kid."

"Still, I'm sorry for being such a bother these past few days."

"You're not a bother, Wilson, and its okay to feel, its okay to break down, it okay to not want to move on, not just yet, you don't have to be strong if you don't want to or you can't take it, nobody is asking you to, its okay if you don’t want to attend lectures, let yourself mourn, you just lost you sibling and friend." He said.

"Yes, I understand professor. She sniffed with a glib voice. "Lets just change topic."

He didn't insist, she had the wrong impression of his intentions, he wasn't trying to be her professor or a psychologist, he really did care. Sort a.

They arrived at her house a few minutes later, it was already raining. He felt awkward, the suddenly car felt too small. He didn’t know how to tell her that he didn't mean to lecture her.

They sat there for a minute in complete silence, the pitter patter of the rain out side and the silent rattling of the windows grew louder with every passing second.

"I'm sorry." They both said at the same time. Her eyes snapped up to him and she let out a bright laugh.

"Well that was awkward, I'm gonna go now. Thank you for all your help Professor Caines."

But as she was about to climb out of the car, an elderly woman wearing a large rain coat and bright yellow rubber boots knocked on the window.

He knew she recognized the woman right away because she cursed under her breath tried to melt into the chair.

He rolled down the window, ignoring the pleading eyes she shot him. "Good evening ma'am, can we help you?." He asked her politely. 

"Wow! Breanna, you are sleeping with older men now?, you and your brother owe me 3 months already and you are sleeping around." The woman spat, Maxwell blinked once taken aback by her bluntness.

"This car seems very expensive, that means he's super rich, is he your sugar daddy?, why not ask him for money, since that's the only thing you know how to do, whore around."

"Uh, excuse me, is everything okay?." He asked, just for the sake of being polite, but he knew if the woman said one more awful thing she was going to run her over.

"Professor, meet my landlady." Breanna said in a small voice. "Mrs. Welch, my professor from the university."

The woman's face paled for a minute, but she was quick to mask it. "You're sleeping with your teacher?, you disgust me."

"Alright ma'am, I'm going to need you to step away from the car or I might just run you over, you don't get to call her names just because she's owing you!." 

"Aw, you're lying to this one, he doesn't know you're a stripper?." The woman snickered. 

"That's it!....." He growled, suddenly mad that this old woman even though it wasn't really any of his business.

"Mrs. Welch!." She cried out angrily.

"I know everything I need to know, thank you!, she has never stolen from you, so I don't know why, how she earns the money to pay for overpriced house is any of your business!." He fired up the engine loudly, the car jerked forward, scaring the woman. Her jaw fell open as she frowned, jolting away from the car like she was electrocuted.

"Thank you for the ride professor." She rushed out, pushing the door open quickly, preparing to run off. For some reason, he didn't want her walking off with the awful old lady still in sight. 

"No, Wilson, stay…….she will leave." He snarled in his deep voice, with a hard glare at Mrs. Welch.

"No, its fine, she's just an evil old land lady." Breanna said, but his hand on her wrist stopped her. She glanced at his lean fingers wrap around her small wrist, she could feel the brush of his calluses against her skin. It felt nice.

Her words died in her mouth for a second.

"Stay Wilson!." He growled.

"Ugh!, you are just as annoying." She yelled with a huff.

They watched her curse multiple times, and walked away in the rain. "So that was your landlady?." He heaved.

"Yeah."

She breathed, looking everywhere but his face.

"You're really owing three months?." He asked after a few seconds, she turned to him slowly with a frown.

"Why, are you going to offer to pay? Like she said." She asked.

"No, but even if I did, you would say no." He shook his head, she sighed in relief at his words.

"Thank you, you've done more than enough for me sir. I'm grateful, I don't want your money." She told him, bluntly, chewing on her lip.

"So, how are you going to pay though?." He asked.  "The club no longer stands." He reminded.

"I'll find something." She dismissed.

He paused to think for a while, of how he could help, without directly giving her the money, she'd refuse.

"I'm not trying to judge, but if you need any help, any at all, don't hesitate. Just so you don't go back to that job and life again."

"I just lost my brother to that life, you think I'd want to go back to that?!." She snapped. He frowned, she was misunderstanding him.  "I'm not stupid!, I need the money, but I'm not stupid, I already promised myself that I won't and I intend to stand by it."

She thought he was judging her, but that was why he started with 'I'm not trying to judge……'

Truth was that, he had been up all night thinking about how to get her a job. From her outburst outside the station, he deduced she was having a hard time, so he had been on the look out.

And it just so happened that his friend was hiring. It was the perfect job even for the future, if she decided to take up therapy.

But he had to make a show of just coming up with it. He didn't want her feeling bad. But instead, she misunderstood him.

"Thank you again for all your help, Good night professor." She gathered her purse to climb down.

"Wait, can you work as an office assistant?." His deep voice stopped her.

"What?."

"See, a colleague of mine is opening a therapy clinic here in town and she needs an assistant, can you do the work?." He rephrased, her eyes grew and her eyebrows hit her hairline. Then her face contorted to a frown.

"Y-yeah?." Her words came out unsure.

"The pay is really good, you just have to call and tell her you're from me." He fished around his wallet and pulled out a black card, pointing out the numbers on it.

"This is the address, the interview is in like in a week and few days, so you have time."

"Wow, thank you." She managed a smile, sniffing hard.

"You're welcome." He said, not realizing when a genuine smile slipped past his lips. He was not a talktaive most times, but onversations with Wilson were always difficult, he had to explain every word or she'd misunderstand. 

She didn't hesitate to argue or voice her opinions.

It was refreshing.