THE FIRST THOUGHT that crosses my mind when I see my mattress propped up against my front door is that I need to do laundry because wearing lacy underwear that rides up my ass is so unnecessary for a Monday night alone.

     When I nudge the mattress over to uncover the doorknob to my apartment, my next thought is that I forgot to buy spinach for the salad I was planning to make.

    I sigh, shrugging. Oh well. Chinese food it is. At least the black pepper beef comes with broccoli. It's green. That counts.

     Creaking the door open, I'm immediately greeted by the musical styling of Rage Against the Machine, in all fuck-the-system type glory that is a telltale style Nikki is not in a good mood. I card through everything I could have done to cause it- left a mountain of unwashed dishes in the sink, borrowed her cute black dress without asking, or maybe she'd found out that I'd accidentally let her beta fish die when she was on vacation, and this one's just an imposter.

     Either way, I probably deserve it.

     Sucking my teeth, I step inside to the chaos, nose crinkling at the constant stream of clothes being hurled from my room into the kitchen. My clothes, particularly. With no proper care for their welfare, it seems, by the haphazard way they're being flung in the air.

     Most of it's dirty, but I have a feeling that Nikki isn't helping me with laundry day.

     I drop my oversized black purse at the kitchen counter, poking my head into my room where I can see a small Chinese girl fucking shit up in all definitions. Clothes are strewn everywhere, along with blankets, makeup, and basically everything that makes up my entire life.

     "Now don't be alarmed, but I think we've been robbed, Nikki, and their signature is leaving mattresses outside in the hallway."

     At the sound of my voice, Nikki freezes, head snapping at break-neck speeds to pin me down with a lethal glare and a homicidal sneer. She points an accusing finger at me. "You!"

     I pause, pointing to myself. "Little ol' me?"

     "You got fired!"

     I blink, weighing my options carefully as I drink in the seething girl, her shoulders heaving, seemingly trying to murder me in my spot with sheer brain power alone. It's not a look I'm unfamiliar with, but it's still undeniably chilling.

      I tilt my head and press a finger against my chin.

     "Define what you mean by fired."

     "Fired! As in, you no longer have a job. As in, you are unemployed. As in, you have no fucking means to pay me for three- yes, three months rent!" Nikki barrels past me, shoving me unceremoniously out of the way as she makes a quick getaway towards the living room. I escape her hell path and avoid getting mowed down, not that my safety is of any real consequence.

     After I'd accidentally shattered her favourite mug and she'd thrown not one, but both her slippers major league baseball-style directly at my face, I'd learned not to get in the way.

     "So is that a yes or a no for Chinese food?" I ask, stepping around the landmine of clothes and following her. Mostly because I don't trust her Hulk hands around expensive electronics, and it's Monday.

     The television must remain in workable condition. Monday is Bachelor day.

     With a frown punctuated on her face, she pauses next to the end-table, pressing a button into the machine found on top. A click sounds, and then I grimace as an irritatingly cheery voice breaks the rigid air.

     "Hey Vika! It's me, Amanda, from work. Or well, ex-work I guess. I just wanted to say sorry about what happened, I know Garrison can be pretty tough, but it was pretty shitty of him to fire you on the spot last week. Even if you were sleeping on the job, but... anyways! I was just thinking, since I don't have your cell number, we should meet up again sometime! Get coffee or brunch something. Ring me back when have you have a second! See you soon!"

     I restrain an eye roll, cursing myself for giving Amanda the landline number instead of my cell in the first place- usual practice whenever people are insistent on talking to me who I don't want to talk to. Like Amanda, who, evidently, never knows how to keep her mouth shut about anything.

     Nikki clears her throat, and I flash her a sheepish grin.

     "Amanda's just crazy, isn't she? She's just lost it," I say, forcing out a nervous laugh, waving my hand like some PTA mom and pointedly avoiding Nikki's murderous stare. "So, shanghai noodles?"

     "What's crazy is that you let yourself get fired for sleeping on the job. Is this a joke? Are you serious? Is this actually a goddamn joke?"

     "What's a joke is that you still have a landline. Seriously, what century are we in?" I murmur under my breath, but despite the wailing sing-screaming that is blasting from the stereo, I can tell she hears by the sharp glare I get in response.

     "Get out."

     I swallow. "Nikki, listen, I'm being serious. Amanda really is crazy. After Doug left her, she's been totally off the rails. That'll happen to you when your husband leaves you for your own younger sister." I give a shrug in all who's-to-say fashion, batting my eyelashes in a way that I hope reads as innocent. "You can't really believe her, she's cuckoo."

     That part's not a complete lie. Not getting fired totally is.

     Nikki's lips press into a thin line, stare hardening. "I'm serious. Get out. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of you. I don't care anymore, okay? I don't give a shit that you're my cousin, you're family, whatever. You're out. Tonight. I'm serious."

     "C'mon, Nikki, let's all be rational here. We're adults, we can figure this out-"

     "What's rational is that you haven't paid rent in three months, and I already have someone that's moving into your room tomorrow. Someone with a job. Who can pay rent. An actual adult." She crosses her arms over her chest, dark eyes narrowed and lips pursed. She's radiating fury from every pore, a metaphorical fire burning around her.

     "I'm an actual adult," I mumble, gaze falling to the floor. "It was just a shitty telemarketing gig anyway, and the boss was a creep. Now I can focus more on my bo-"

     "Mention your fucking book, I dare you," she growls, holding up a threatening finger.

      I throw my hands up in innocence. "Okay, just, give me a couple more weeks, I'll get you some money, we'll all be happy, it'll all be good. I promise."

     She shakes her head, and for the first time since I've walked through the room, there's a tired stitch between her brows. "No, Vika, I can't do it anymore. I don't care what you do- but you're out. I mean it. Pack your things and go."

     "What? Nikki, you're being crazy," I brush her off, rolling my eyes as I meander my way back to the kitchen where I'd left my purse. Digging through it, ignoring my dog-eared notepads and buttery bagel wrappers, I pick out my cellphone and shoot a grin at the incensed girl. "So, General Tso?"

     "I will throw things at you," she warns, and it's less of a threat and more of a promise by the way her eyes darken, daring me to say another stupid thing.

     I shift my weight, eyes darting to find an escape, waiting for the sigh of surrender that usually comes about this time. Usually. Today, her arms are crossed and defiant. I parch.

     "Nikki, c'mon, where am I supposed to go? I can't go live with my parents because, oh yeah, they're dead."

     She rolls her eyes. "Don't play that card."

    "What card? The orphan card? The one you receive when you become an orphan?"

     "Your parents died years ago and I won't feel bad for you right now- you got yourself into this situation. You're the one that dropped out of college, you're the one that got fired- no, I'm done. I called Natalya, she's gonna come help you get your things, because you're out, and I mean it- tonight."

     Before another plea can leave my lips, she's stalking across the floor and slamming her door shut with a resounding thud.

     I stand, shell-shocked for a moment.

     No, this isn't supposed to happen. What's supposed to happen is sesame chicken and watching delusional, catty girls all vie for the attention of one obliviously stupid guy.

    This cannot be happening.

     I don't even realize that time has passed until a knock rips me from my reverie, and I shake my head, blinking as I return to the real world. Heavy guitar rifts are still humming in the air, and my stomach growls from the dying promise of Chinese food. Another knock and I sigh, crossing the room.

     When I open the door I'm met with the soft green eyes and honey blonde hair of Natalya, a sympathetic crinkle in her brow. "I've been summoned."

     I narrow my eyes. "She's not- she's not serious. She can't be. We're family. She's not kicking me out, don't worry, Nat. It's fine."

     Nat scrunches her nose, lifting her cellphone with one hand and scrolling through the paragraphs of caps lock with her finger. "It seems like she's kind of serious, Vi. I think she specifically wrote that, yep, right there. I am fucking serious. Quote, unquote."

     I shake my head. "No, no, she's not. She's just being dramatic. In a couple of hours, this'll all blow over."

     The phone vibrates in her palm. "That is Nikki saying yes she is very serious, and that if I don't start helping you get your things like right now that someone's going to die. Wait! Also, she wants you to know that the person is going to be you."

     Nat offers me a sympathetic smile, and I cast a sharp glare at Nikki's door. Mostly because I know she won't see it.

     "I can't believe her," I huff, turning on my heel with a scowl marked on my face. "I even played the orphan card- the orphan card! How can she do this to me? We're family!" My voice rises a couple of decibels at the end, trying to get Nikki to hear, and she responds by turning the music up even louder. I groan.

     "Well, she has been threatening to do it for the past couple of months," Nat murmurs, scratching the top of her head. When I shoot her a deadpan look, she claps. "But, I have a solution! It's- hey, Mark, you coming?"

     I find myself less than surprised when Mark's grinning face appears in the doorway. He always seems to be only two steps behind at all times. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, ready for heavy lifting, and he gives me a friendly wave when our eyes meet. I smile back, because somehow Mark has this inane ability to look comfortable anywhere, even in this small grungy apartment, with a Rolex flashing on his wrist.

     "I'm here to be used. Use me, please." He lifts his arms in open invitation.

     Nat hides a smile behind her fingers. "I figured we could use some muscle."

     I would vomit if they weren't genuinely adorable.

     "Guys- it's fine. Really." I muster a reassuring grin, at this point trying to convince myself more than anything. "She's not really kicking me out."

     Nat's phone vibrates, and she looks down. "Nikki says she's really kicking you out."

     I swallow, stepping back to lean against the counter for support. My eyes trail over the apartment; the tiny little place I'd called home for the past two years. Countless memories were hidden within these four walls, seemingly an entire lifetime, even though I'd promised Nikki it would only be a couple of months when I first moved in. With one last wary glance at Nikki's door, I sigh in defeat.

     "But I don't have anywhere to go." I'm rubbing my temples. "I'm gonna be homeless. I can't be homeless. I'm gonna miss the Bachelor. Homeless people can't watch the Bachelor."

     Mark cocks his head to the side. "Aren't you more worried about food?"

     My arms flail in the air. "That too! What am I gonna do?" I wail, pulling the skin of my cheeks with my palms.

     From my peripherals I can see Nat roll her eyes. "You're always welcome to stay with me, I mean, I only have one bed, but we can make it work-"

     "Really?" I gasp, relief crashing over me and a grin breaking out across my face. I look to her with hearts in my eyes. "You mean it? I promise I'll pay you some rent- I mean, when I get money. But I've got, like, things set up. So don't worry. Oh man, we're gonna be roomies!"

     Just as I lunge to capture her into a death hold of a hug, Nat holds up a hand, stopping me. "Wait-"

     "Wait?" I pout, freezing.

     She snorts. "Trust me, you're gonna want to hear this. Okay, so Mark's roommate-"

     "Mark?"

     She shoots me a look.

     "Right, not interrupting, because that would be rude."

     There's a beat of silence where she narrows her eyes at me, then relents. "Right, as I was saying, Mark's roommate Alexei signed a lease with his girlfriend and moved out a couple of weeks ago, so you could potentially stay there? I mean, you'd have to move out before the wedding, but you wouldn't have to pay rent..."

     "And I'm barely there anyways, Nat's place is way closer to my work, so I wouldn't be in the way," Mark adds, flashing me a reassuringly boyish grin.

     I blink, taken aback. "Really, that's okay with you guys?"

     Nat arches a brow. "What, should I be worried you're going to steal my man? Because I'd like to see you try."

     A hand slaps over my melting heart, shoulders dropping with sincerity. "Oh my god, I love you guys. You guys are the best. You're better than any family I could ever ask for."

     Nat's phone vibrates, and she checks it with a bemused grin. "Nikki says fuck you."

     I brush it off, a mirage of my new, amazing life flashing before my eyes. I'd drunkenly crashed at Mark's before with Natalya, and despite only being a condo, his kitchen could swallow up my entire apartment. The words rent-free are still whispering sweet nothings into my ears.

     "Oh, there's just one thing," Mark interrupts my thoughts, his blue-green eyes fixed on me.

     A record scratches in my mind. "What?"

     "I have a friend, and his cat- it's a long story, but she's staying with me right now. That all right with you? Are you okay with cats?"

     I snort, brushing him off with a wave of my hand. That idyllic future crashes back in full technicolour. "Oh Mark, don't worry. Cats love me."