Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
My anxiety flutters again. It’s forty minutes until her shift ends. She hasn’t even finished what she was working on, and her work area is a mess. I definitely need the help in case a bunch of the guys next door stop in to buy bouquets before they go home.
Please, God, let there be a closing time rush.
I should tell her that, but instead, I bite back my sigh. I love her too much to create strife between us. I know—hiring a friend was a mistake. One I’m going to keep paying for if I don’t figure out pretty quickly how to be a boss bitch. But Josie got laid off from her dream job as an interior decorator apprentice, so I invited her to work here with me, thinking how fun it would be to run a business with my best friend at my side.
Except it’s not always fun. And lately, it’s more stressful when she’s around than when she’s not. It doesn’t take a psychotherapist to figure out that’s why I get anxious when she’s here. My subconscious wants me to clarify things with her, but my heart can’t stand the thought of alienating my best friend.
But that’s kind of the least of my worries about running this business at this point. And I may not even have a business past next month if things don’t turn around.
“Okay thanks.”
Ugh. Why am I thanking her? I’m paying her. And she’s leaving early.
Without asking.
And I now have her mess to clean up.
Still, if I had it to do over, I’d probably hire her again because the thought of hiring a stranger makes me way too nervous.
I am so not cut out to be Boss Bitch.
Instead of saying anything more, I look to the door and try to will someone to walk in and order all the flowers I have to offer.
Chapter Four
Armando
“It’s not a big apartment,” Marco says as he puts the keys into the door and opens it. “But it’s down the hall from me, and the building is centrally located.”
I take a look around the small apartment. It’s simple and cozy, but there are no decorations or any other personal touches. The bedroom is furnished with just a bed, dresser, and a small nightstand. There’s a black, leather couch in the living room and a kitchen table in the corner of the room. The only window is in the living room, but there’s a balcony outside with a great view of the Chicago skyline.
“You can decorate it however you want, put up whatever pictures you want,” Marco says, gesturing to the blank walls. “The landlord is cool here. Also, my lady friend says that she knows a few people who can do interior design for you if you want. I can hook you up with them if you’re interested.”
I look around the apartment, feeling a bit overwhelmed. I’ve been in jail with a cellmate for long enough that the idea of actually being alone for a night is bizarre.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s a start,” Marco says, apparently trying to be encouraging. “Soon you’ll be back on your feet, and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”
I nod and take a deep breath. “Thanks, Marco.” I should show more enthusiasm, but I can’t muster it.
Luckily, Leo enters the apartment, his dominance filling the room. During my time in prison, my cousin has grown. He’s no longer the scrawny, young, arrogant kid trying to prove himself to the Outfit. He’s nearly tripled in size and reminds me of a brick wall. Nothing but brawn strides into the room. I don’t think Marco and I combined could take this man down if we tried.
His eyes dart to the balcony. “What the fuck? A balcony? A ladder escape? Are you just inviting someone to come up here and jump him?”
“He’s laying low right now,” Marco retorts. “It’s not like there’s a hit on him or anything. Let the man enjoy a view and some fresh air after having gone so long without it.”
Leo grunts in hesitant approval, his eyes still scanning the apartment for any threats. He finally turns to me. “Welcome back, cuz. I’ve missed you.” He claps me on the shoulder, his grip strong and comforting. He then narrows his eyes at his brother. “Balconies only bring pigeons. Pigeons bring shit.”
“I put beer in the fridge,” Marco says as he walks toward the kitchen with an eye roll. “Anyone?”
“Yeah.” I need one. I feel completely out of place in what is supposed to be my home.
Leo takes a beer from Marco and tips it toward me. “Cheers, cuz. To a new start.”
I take the beer, wanting to savor the taste of freedom, but it tastes as flat as my emotions. Is this freedom?
It’s all so strange. I’m out of prison, but I’m not really free. I’m living a life dependent on the generosity and connections of others.