Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Tuesday placed the receiver down, and I pretended I hadn’t been eavesdropping as she quickly wrote something down on the notepad bearing the Pride of Kings logo. “So, you can take your break now,” she announced, “but on your way back, Rowdy wants you to pick up his lunch from Fred’s.”
“He…what?”
Of course, Tuesday was oblivious to my change in mood as she read over whatever she’d written before adding a few more things, then ripping the sheet off the pad and handing it to me. One glance at what was written, and I just barely stopped myself from tossing it in the trash where it belonged.
As soon as I finished reading, I met Tuesday’s blue gaze. She was holding a stack of new tickets, but the look in her eyes said she already knew what I was thinking, so I swallowed my response. “He would also like you to know that if his food is tampered with in any way, you will be sorry.” Tuesday walked away as if this was all normal.
I guess it was when you worked for a psycho.
Grabbing my purse and jacket, I stuffed the note inside and headed out. The cold air slapped me in the face as soon as I stepped outside, so I zipped up my jacket to ward against the chill. February was only a week away, and it was getting colder.
I thought about how I couldn’t wait for spring.
And then I thought about my dad and how he died before he could see another. Spring had been his favorite time of the year because of the flirty dresses mom would wear to show off her legs just for him. Mom said winter was her favorite time of year because Dad would always hold her just a little bit tighter to keep her warm through the night.
God. Mom. She’d taken his death so hard. The part of me that loved her too much and remembered what a great mom she’d been up until she’d lost her soul mate wanted to forgive her for the things she’d said.
But I’d spent months forgiving her.
For lying to me, for not fighting harder to get out of bed, and for giving up.
For so many things.
I kept forgiving her until I couldn’t do it anymore. Until resentment started to bleed through no matter how hard I pressed on the wound.
And now she was there alone, and I was here alone—taking lunch orders for my new boss. A man twice my age who couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck me, ignore me, or kill me.
Even though I knew it was futile, I pulled out my phone and dialed my mom as I walked down the street. It rang and rang until the voicemail picked up, so I ended the call without leaving a message. She never returned my calls anyway. I guess we’d said all we needed to.
I passed Fred’s, an alley big enough for a car to drive through to the small parking lot at the rear, and then a vacant building before coming across the hair salon at the end of the street. I’d spotted it before during my surveillance of the Kings. The salon had been my backup plan in case I couldn’t get a position at POK.
On the other side of the street was a liquor and corner store with a few hardheads hanging around. Instinct sent me fleeing inside the salon the moment their watchful eyes landed on me. I could feel them wondering if I was a potential customer or potential mark.
“Welcome to Bossin’ Up Hair Studio.”
I was greeted by a short, curvaceous beauty with dark-brown skin, a round face, and deep dimples. She was older than me but still young. I guessed her age to be around the late twenties or early thirties.
“Hi.” I waved, looked around the empty salon while she finished sweeping up the hair on the floor, and searched for an excuse for wandering in here. I was still grappling for a reason when she approached the front counter where I was standing.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I—no, sorry. I was walking by, and I saw your salon. I just started working over at Pride of Kings.”
“Oh.” I could see the hairdresser’s surprise as her gaze flicked to the door in the direction of the shop and back to me. “You’re a mechanic?”
“God, no. I can’t even change a tire. My dad tried to show me once so that I wouldn’t be totally helpless in a bind, but it never stuck. No, I work reception.”
“So you know Tuesday then.” She cocked her head to the side. “How do you like working with her?”
“She’s cool. Helpful. Energetic. Knows her shit.” I thought about the note in my pocket. “Takes her job a little seriously, though.”
The hairdresser lifted her flawless brows at that. “Oh, I don’t blame her. You just started working there, so I don’t want to scare you, but you should know the Kings are not to be fucked with.”