Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
But would everything be okay again? The old Brynn would’ve believed it, but this new Brynn? I had no clue who she was. She was cold and bitter and angry. She was mean and tasteless and afraid to even check the mail.
The next morning, Shavonne tried cheering me up. She had a spread of breakfast on the table—eggs, pancakes, bacon, orange juice. We ate together in silence while Charmed circa 1998 played in the background. I went to work shortly after to help the morning crew at Franco’s prepare for an engagement party that would be booking the entire restaurant for the night.
But when I went in, I saw a man standing at the bar, and my whole body turned to ice.
FIFTY
BRYNN
The man turned around and, just as I’d suspected, it was him. The old white man with the oversized nose who’d sat with Dominic the day he bristled his way to New Orleans. He was speaking to Chad, one of the bartenders, with a to-go box in hand. I couldn’t remember the man’s name. Jim. Jake? No, John. It was John.
I stood near the door, drawing in deep breaths. I couldn’t move my feet even if I’d wanted to. I was stuck in place, and my heart boomed when the man bid Chad farewell and turned in my direction. He walked toward the exit, but his head tipped when he spotted someone in his path. He smiled as if he were a true gentleman and stepped around me.
Before he reached the door, he paused and said, “Wait . . . I remember you.”
I peered over my shoulder with my pulse erratically beating in my ears.
“You waited one of my tables before, right? Exceptional service. Keep it up.” And with that, he was gone.
I faced the door, watching him climb into the back of an SUV. When the SUV took off, I ran to the bathroom, shoved the door open, and hit the first stall. All the breakfast I’d had with Shavonne went flying into the toilet.
When I was done, I sank to my bottom and pressed my back against the stall wall. I couldn’t help crying, nor could I stop. Not for at least fifteen minutes. I finally collected myself, left the stall, and rinsed my face with cold water at the sink.
When I felt I was stable enough, I walked back out and went straight to the kitchen. I immediately went to work, hoping no one would notice my puffy red eyes or how on edge I was.
That stupid man. He was there that night. He was on top of me. He . . . turned me over. Pushed himself into my ass. He didn’t even remember that he’d done it.
I swallowed hard, chopping vegetables, my focus on the silver blade of the knife. I wish I’d had the knife when he walked by. I would’ve stabbed him right in the chest with it, twisted the knife, and smiled on my way to prison.
Trent made his way back, checking things off his clipboard while Victor washed dishes. Sous Chef Eric was behind the stove, seasoning a slab of meat.
Something in the corner caught my eye and I looked up at the TV. A woman was on screen, speaking to someone I knew. I stopped chopping the veggies and felt a tight squeeze in my chest when I saw Dominic Baker on the screen and on the blue bar beneath him in bold font were the words FIRST BLACK GOVERNOR OF NORTH CAROLINA SPEAKS ABOUT EXPERIENCE.
It was a popular news channel—a nationwide one, in fact. And he was on it. The TV was muted, however I didn’t have to hear him speaking to know every word coming out of his mouth was utter bullshit. I stood behind the counter, knife gripped in hand, staring at his arrogant face on the screen and that deceivingly charming smile. The screen switched to reveal a carousel of images of him standing with citizens, children, and even shaking hands with the Obamas. Being around the Obamas was impressive, I had to admit, but what caught my attention most was the image of him and his wife. It was one of the pictures in his phone, the one his wife said was her favorite.
Did his wife know that he was a lying, backstabbing piece of shit? Did she know that he was abusive and okay with murdering someone just to cover his own ass?
It occurred to me then, right in Franco’s kitchen, that Dominic tried getting me to sign that NDA because he was running for this role as governor. He’d conned me into thinking we had a chance, when really he was using me to get whatever he needed from that man John. He’d practically spat in my face, and now he was making national headlines and smiling proudly, as if he were a saint. As if he hadn’t had his ex-girlfriend raped and nearly murdered her!