Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“You can, but if you want an honest answer, then you’re going to be sorely disappointed because I don’t know how it happened.”
Tapping the room key card to the sensor, Max pushed open the hotel room door, stepped inside, and held it open for Jersey and Chris. Jersey hugged her duffel bag and shopping bags, making a wide-eyed inspection of the room while Chris plopped his shopping bags onto the first of the two queen beds.
“So…” Max threw open the curtains, exposing a stunning view of Manhattan “…it’s safe to say you have some memory loss of the trauma?”
Some memory loss.
Chris inwardly grinned. “That’s a very safe answer.”
“And your family doesn’t know?”
Hugging her bag, Jersey remained planted to her spot three feet inside the door. Chris tore her bags from her grasp, one at a time. She stiffened, hands balled into fists.
“You just purchased us new clothes.” He managed to tug Jersey’s shopping bags from her, but he didn’t fight her for the duffel bag. Instead, he rolled his eyes at her and returned his attention to Max. “And I assume you’d like us to take a shower to wash the filth and stink from our bodies. Surely in the back of your pretty mind you have to think we don’t have family … a home … or any other belongings to our names. Right?”
Max glanced at her watch and clasped her hands behind her back. “Listen, Ian disappeared for several hours today, and he came back with instructions to pick you two up and get you set up with jobs. He requested I not ask any questions that don’t need to be asked. So I’m navigating this carefully. But honestly, I have a million questions screaming in my head. All I’m asking is for you to help me help you.”
Chris didn’t question her sincerity because her defeated posture and the surrender in her voice left little room for doubt.
“Tell people whatever you think they want to hear.”
Chris and Max turned toward Jersey’s voice. She loosened her grip on her duffel bag and took cautious steps toward the window, not making eye contact as she squeezed by them. Jersey’s body jerked with an audible gasp at the sight before her.
“If you need anything, here’s my number.” Max set her business card on the desk, next to the hotel phone. “Otherwise, I’ll be back in an hour to get you. I’ll have some food sent up right away. Is there anything else you need?”
Jersey remained statuesque at the window as Chris inspected Max’s business card. It was all black with just a phone number, not even her name.
“We’re good. Thank you. Um …” He held up the business card. “You don’t strike me as a Max. Is that your real name?”
She smiled, a soft one that held some sadness. “My father is from Japan. My mother is American. She had a sister who died at a young age. I was named after her, Maxann.”
“Sorry.” Chris let his gaze fall to the black card.
“Me too.”
When the door clicked behind Max, Chris stood next to Jersey at the window. “Well … at least your new friend, Ian, set us up with a sweet view, new clothes, and clean sheets. I’m just worried he’s trying to get us to lower our guards before the kinky shit begins.”
Jersey’s jaw clenched, but it couldn’t hold back her grin.
“Bus … did you hear her say I might stay on a bus? We’re joining the circus, Jers. You get that, right? In another few hours, you’ll be decorated in sequins, traipsing around on a giant elephant while I’m three steps behind with a bucket, scooping its shit.”
She giggled. Chris liked her giggle. He’d seen her knock out men twice her size, leaving them bloodied and gasping in the middle of the boxing ring. He knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of her fury, so sharing space with her during a rare moment of giggling made him feel normal, even special, and anything but lost in the world. When he wasn’t experiencing nightmares, voices in his head, cold sweats, and heart palpitations, he imagined what his life was like before the accident. A woman, maybe a family, a job he loved … could it have been possible?
Two showers and two chicken sandwiches later, Jersey and Chris sat on their respective beds watching television, dressed in new jeans, white T-shirts, hole-less socks, and well-fitted sneakers. It had been eight years since her hair experienced shampoo and conditioner and a hairdryer that didn’t also double as a hand dryer in a public restroom.
“It was disgusting.” Jersey kept her gaze on the television, some action movie.
“What was?”
“The water in the bottom of the shower. The last time I took a shower, the water wasn’t black.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re forced to live in a shithole and bathe out of a sink.”