Nolan made sure that girl who was at the apartment was far enough out of sight before he opened his car door and got in. She was a stranger, but he still didn’t want her judgment about the ‘98 Ford Escort he was driving packed full with all of his life’s possessions inside, including more than a few empty food bags and soda bottles. All the result of living full-time out of the car. Not full-time forever. For the moment, he reminded himself.

What was her name? Pam? Pammy? Penny? Nolan couldn’t remember. He shrugged and sighed, sinking into the front seat. Not that he had anywhere to go at the moment. Two hours until band practice.

But sitting in the car was better than spending money in a coffee shop. The one around the corner sold $8 muffins and that was the cheapest item on the menu.

Nolan closed his eyes. I have time for a quick nap, he thought. His Postmates runs last night had him out until 2am, and he had to move the car at 6am for street sweeping, so he was exhausted. Just as he closed his eyes…ding! His phone received a notification for another delivery.

I can skip it, Nolan thought to himself, still wanting his nap. But then…he thought of the apartment. It was perfect. But mostly, it was cheap enough that if he picked up just a few more gigs, he’d be able to afford it. At least until he was able to get his music really going.

Nolan yawned deeply and put his shirt back on. He accepted the request and headed to the restaurant across Brooklyn to pick up the order. I can sleep when I’m dead, he thought.

Or famous.

***

Two hours later, Nolan was still making deliveries. Late for band practice. Again.

Just one more, he thought to himself. I need to get that first month’s rent covered. Gotta keep going.

His phone chimed. Expecting another delivery, Nolan started his ignition, stopping when he saw the text was from his bandmate, Xander.

“Hey man, if you’re going to keep disrespecting us like this we’re going to have to part ways.”

Nolan stared in shock and sighed deeply. It wasn’t the first time he had “parted ways,” from a group, but he didn’t think this time would come so quickly. They were all musicians too. Didn’t they understand what it took to live in this city and pursue music?

Nolan had many jobs, and they sometimes came at the cost of his artistic pursuits. Not because he wanted them to. Because he had to survive.

He started to write something angry back, and then thought better of it. “Priorities,” Nolan whispered to himself. Instead, he typed, “You’re right, I’m so sorry. Thanks for everything. Going on my own for awhile.”

I can do this, Nolan thought to himself, as he accepted his last delivery request for the night.

***

Penelope hoisted the duffle bag back on her shoulder. With all the clothes inside, it kept slipping down. Almost there, she thought. My new life.

After the way she had left things with Nolan, she couldn’t imagine that he’d still be vying for the place. I’ll bet he’s already moved on to some other Brooklyn artist loft with five underfed models, Penelope thought to herself, as she turned the corner onto the apartment’s street.

And that’s when she saw him: Nolan, with a bag over his own shoulder, approaching her, and the apartment, from the opposite direction.

“Oh hell no,” Penelope said out loud. There’s no way he’s getting in before me, she added in her head.

At that moment, Nolan seemed to clock Penelope on the street too. They both stopped and sized each other up. And then, both sprinted towards the stairs.

They both reached the bottom at once, practically elbowing each other out of the way.

“I thought you left!” said Penelope, surprised and annoyed.

“I thought you left!” said Nolan right back.

“Well, I’m back. And I’m staying here tonight,” said Penelope, starting to move to the stairs.

“For your information, I’m staying here, so maybe you should know when to give up.” Nolan used the size of his body to get in front of her. But Penelope ran track in high school. She was faster than him, and she knew it.

They arrived at the top of the stoop at the same time, waiting to see which of them would unlock the door so the other could enter.

“How about a good old fashioned game of rock, paper, scissors?” said Penelope, readying her fist.

“How about you just open the door?” said Nolan, looking tired.

“What happened to chivalry?” Penelope said back, batting her eyelashes.

“It died with my dignity, two streets over,” Nolan said, rolling his eyes. And then finally, “Ok, fine.”

Penelope, lowered her bag to the ground and prepared for the battle of her life.

Nolan and Penelope took their positions, arms outstretched, making a fist.

“Alright, ready?” Penelope asked. “One, two—”

“Three!” shouted Nolan, throwing a rock. He looked down to see Penelope’s hand outstretched, making paper.

“No way!” he said. “Come on, best two out of three.”

“Nolan, we had a deal,” Penelope said, smiling.

“Fine,” Nolan said, pouting, as he reached for the keys. “I can’t believe I got beat by paper.”

He opened the door, and Penelope ran straight for the bedroom, claiming it with her bag. “Yes!” she exclaimed loudly.

Then she heard Nolan exclaim from the doorway: “Frickin’ paper!” followed by his footsteps running towards the bedroom.

“Not so fast,” he said, looking at her and dropping his bag next to hers in the bedroom.