Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
My heels clacked on the sidewalk as I approached. Unerringly, my eyes went to the set of tables he’d set up for the café along the brick wall out back. The building served as a boundary for the café. It also afforded me a place I could sit and not have to worry about someone sneaking up on me from behind. There was very little I could do if Marco came looking for me or sent one of his goons after me, but I wanted to see it coming so I could prepare myself.
Sure enough, there was my rock. Atticus Benedict.
I’d started coming to the café for the chocolate pie. Kept coming back because Atticus was usually there. I knew he was more than he seemed. I’d heard he was a doctor in Palm Beach over at JFK North. If that was true, he didn’t act like a doctor. He was certainly smart enough, I suppose. He didn’t look like a doctor. Which was stupid thinking. I didn’t look like a hooker, either.
Or maybe I did. I was pretty sure Teddy saw through me. If that were true, then Atticus definitely knew. Which made me all the more angry, because I didn’t want him to see me that way. Anyone else? I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. But Atticus was the kind of man I dreamed about, but knew I’d never attain. At least, not in any meaningful way.
I made my way to my usual table. Thank God no one had claimed it, though there were several people enjoying Teddy’s food this evening. Before I could signal to Teddy, he was there with a piece of the chocolate pie I loved so much and a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, Teddy.” My voice was tight, but soft.
“Kinda crowded in here this evening.” Atticus didn’t look up from the puzzle he was working in a little magazine. Like one of those grocery store puzzle books old people in nursing homes did to keep their minds occupied. Why not use his phone? There were plenty of games to be played there.
“What the fuck are you doing with that?” I put as much disdain in my voice as I could. Was I spoiling for a fight? How would pissing off Atticus, the one man in this whole fucking city I could count on for good conversation to take my mind off my life for a few minutes, be of benefit to me? Was I trying to drive him away?
Maybe.
He glanced up at me. There was no surprise on his face, in fact, if anything, he looked slightly amused. “It’s called a crossword puzzle.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to do one on your phone? Might save a few trees.”
He snorted a laugh. “Might.” He pointed to the chair across from him, but I shook my head. I needed to have my back to the wall. Surprisingly, he scooted his chair around, putting himself more at an angle with the wall and the open sidewalk and gestured to the space he’d vacated.
Unexpectedly, I felt a wave of something like grief envelop me and I found myself near tears. These two men, men who knew very little about me, were treating me with more kindness and respect than anyone had in my entire life. Especially since I’d been brought over from Italy. My childhood hadn’t been great, but it had been better than my life in America.
Still, I hesitated. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not.” Atticus again gestured to the empty space beside him.
With only a slight hesitation -- more for show than anything else -- I picked up my pie and coffee and set them on his table before moving a chair around to sit with my back against the wall.
“Rough day?” Atticus asked with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look.
“Gonna be,” I muttered. “How about you?” We never asked about things like this. Personal things.
He shrugged. “Not bad. Convinced someone my advice was good advice. I’m hopeful this person’s health will improve, but I’ll still drop in to check from time to time.” He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t question further. I’d only asked because he had.
Knowing I probably needed to offer something in return, I fiddled with my pie. I desperately wanted to eat the rich dessert, but I wasn’t sure my stomach could take it. Or the coffee. “I have a job.” I cleared my throat. Damned thing was trying to close up on me. Emotions sucked. “I don’t want to do it, but…” I shrugged. “It’s like everything in life. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”
Atticus nodded. “Sometimes. Maybe.”
“Always.” I knew I sounded bitter and the conversation was turning heavy. The last thing I wanted was for him to bail on me. “So.” I gave him what I hoped was a cheerful smile. “You always read about murder for personal gain, or do you do light reading?”