Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
We marched through the door, heading for his truck, and maybe he was the same old infamous Bane Protsenko, but I walked out of there different from the person I’d been when I’d first walked in.
Alive.
Alert.
In bloom.
Old Jesse was no longer knocking on my soul’s door. She’d kicked that thing down.
And all the light streamed in.
“Well, someone looks thoroughly fucked.” Gail snickered as she pushed the ice fridge shut with her ass, flinging a kitchen towel over her shoulder. Roman had said he had to go to city hall for a business meeting—something about SurfCity—and I actually didn’t mind spending some time away from him. I’d enjoyed our morning together, but I also enjoyed being my own person. Facing the world independently, even if from behind Café Diem’s trendy counter. I liked this job, and that made me happy, because it made me the opposite of Pam. She frowned upon jobs in general, thought life was meant for shopping and socializing.
Turning scarlet red, I grinned, slicing the strawberries on the board in front of me into miniscule pieces. “Shut up.”
“It’s okay. There’s not one girl in this room who can’t relate to wanting to screw Bane Protsenko senseless. I’m guessing you got a free sample? Does he offer a weekly pass?” Gail elbowed my ribs, her eyes scanning me up and down. I flipped her the bird, then proceeded to wash my hands before cutting fruit for the smoothies.
“Seriously, Gail, you need professional help. And dick. Perhaps especially that. I’ll see if Beck is available.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather rub myself against an iceberg. And I’ll take that as a no.”
It felt so normal talking to someone like that. Like a friend. My grin spread wider over my face.
“Ding ding, what’s that? Yup, it’s my lunch break. See you in half an hour.” I grabbed my phone and the smoothie I’d made for myself and dodged the scene. I waved the device in my hand. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Hey, you just got here! His jerk-ism is rubbing off on you, and I bet it’s not the only thing.” She laughed, wiping coffee beans off the surface in front of her.
“You’re funny.” I pushed my shoulder to the glass door. “Keep it up.”
“Probably not. Don’t wanna mess with boyfriend dearest and find myself in the ER.”
“Huh?” I blinked. Gail leaned her elbows on the counter, whisper-shouting for everyone to hear. “Rumor has it Bane almost kicked Hale’s ass for hitting on you. I think you have an admirer, Jesse.”
I slipped out of Café Diem, wondering what else I didn’t know about Roman and his behavior. If he’d touched Hale for flirting with me, I wasn’t sure how he was going to react when Emery, Henry, and Nolan finally dragged their butts back to Todos Santos. I didn’t want to know, either. I appreciated his protective ways, but I wanted to take care of myself. In fact, it seemed mandatory after everything that had gone down.
Outside, I called Mrs. Belfort’s daughter, Kacey. A New Yorker with a family and kids, I’d once seen her at Mrs. B’s, which was more than I could say about her Bostonian brother. Kacey answered after the third ring and sounded less than happy when I told her who I was. When I explained that Mrs. Belfort wasn’t feeling very well, I heard a steel cabinet slam in the background and an animalistic growl.
“So. My overdramatic mother finally resorted to getting her teenage neighbor to call me? Jesus Christ. Get a life,” then hung up.
I sat there, staring at the ocean for a long minute, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then I shook off my anger and dialed Ryan, Mrs. Belfort’s son. It went straight to voicemail. I called again. Same. Maybe his phone was turned off. Or maybe he was at a meeting. Or maybe he didn’t want to deal with me, just like his sister. Anger sizzled in my blood as I wrote him a quick text message.
This is Juliette Belfort’s neighbor. I’m calling because your mother is not doing well. She needs you and your sister to come home.
He wrote back a minute later.
Don’t call me again.
Exasperation made my breathing labored and hard. I thought about how I would have reacted had my own father still been alive and in need. I would drop everything to be with him. Of course, I didn’t have that privilege, and that annoyed me, too.
Your mother is still alive, but you deem her a drama queen, even though you know she is slipping in and out of lucidity.
This is not a kiddie game, sweetheart. We’re both professionals.
Came his second text a minute later.
Yeah, I thought. Professional oxygen-wasters.
I got back into the café, finished my shift, and drove back home. On my way there, an unsettled feeling of a pending disaster formed in my gut. It was brewing, I could tell, because I wanted to be sick. I tried to call Roman, but he didn’t pick up, and I had to remind myself once again that everything was okay. I parked and pushed the entrance door open, feeling my mouth going dry before I even heard the yelp coming from the kitchen.