Page 14 of Silver Edge
“I never thought of it that way.” Toeing the floor, I managed to keep from looking at the mirror on the sidewall to analyze my eye color. Not that I ever liked looking in a mirror. Sure, I had pale skin, but it was soft and looked more appropriate for a lady from the 1800s than a pasty sick person. My eyes were a little different, true, and my hair was full and soft. But mirrors still made me uncomfortable, like I was being judged.
I dialed Ton’s number while searching for a private corner away from noise.
It rang several times until voicemail picked up. “This is Ton. I’m out right now, searching for a young woman that ducked out on me in the middle of the night. If this is her, please tell me you’re alive so I can find and strangle you. If you are not said girl, leave a message at the tone, and I’ll think about returning your call.”
It beeped and I stood silent for a moment, glad he didn’t answer, but unsure of what to say. “Hey, it’s the girl who ran out on you in the middle of the night. I’m fine. If you promise not to strangle me, I’ll try to call you again. For now, I’m good, and I’m managing on my own.” I stood there for a second, thinking of a thousand things I should say, but none formed on my lips. “I’m sorry, Ton. I needed to do this on my own, not with you holding my hand the entire time. Bye.” I hit end and let out the deep boulder of heavy air lodged in my lungs.
“Problem?” Hawaiian appeared at my side. “I’m a big guy. I can handle whoever is on the other end of that call. Don’t you worry.”
His offer touched me in some strange brother-sisterly way. Of course, Ton was a beast. But what Hawaiian had in girth, Ton had in muscle. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for the phone loan. Now I can go beg your boss for a job.”
“Cut him some slack. Drake’s a good guy, just got some issues he’s trying to work through.”
“What kind of issues? Being tragically handsome?” I held up a hand. “Never mind. That’s none of my business.”
The front door of the coffee shop opened and some guys in those weird-looking biker shorts, wearing bicycle helmets, raced to the front register. The hint of sweat and cologne infiltrated the espresso bean aroma.
“Maybe not, but if you take that job don’t be so hard on him. Although, you can give him grief once in a while. I liked that drink you made him.” He hip-bumped me, sending my small frame stumbling into the counter. The jolt bounced through my joints, but it was so quick there was no sensory overload to put me in the fetal position on the sticky floors.
“Well, I guess we all have our issues to deal with. I just think if he spent less time with that Barbie doll and more time on his business, things might be going a little better.”
“Ah, you met Margo.”
“Yep, I’ve had the pleasure.” One of the helmet-wearing men nudged into my side and I jumped. Hawaiian eyed me suspiciously but didn’t say anything.
“I don’t know the whole deal with her, but she’s been trying to get her claws in Drake for a long time. I don’t want to butt in nobody’s business, but Drake’s always agitated and bossy when she comes ’round. It’s not my place to say nothin’, though.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not saying nothing, either. I’ll do my job and stay out of it. I guess I should get going.”
“’Kay. Nice seeing you. Go convince Boss to hire you. I know you can, Einstein. You’re unique and something special.” Hawaiian yanked me into a big hug and a full-on panic attack threatened. The last time a man grabbed me like that I stabbed a three-inch blade into his side.
Chapter Seven
Bands’s parking lot appeared more desolate than the opening day of a foreign film, except for a lone muscle car in the corner. It screamed sexy, with its dark paint and strong lines. Of course, not only did my inner slut love deliciously bad guys, but it also loved muscle-car men.
I was doomed.
With one hand on the door handle and one foot pointed toward retreat, I thought about how far I’d come since leaving New York and the safety of the community. I could do this. I needed to learn to control my actions if I was ever going to have a real life. One like my mother would have wanted for me. Not strung out on drugs living under a bridge, or sponging off a man.
I swung the door open and immediately stumbled, blocking the abrasive light from my eyes. The club’s overhead florescent, mind-numbing lights were piercing my pupils to the point of threatening a grand mal seizure inside my head. The dark, overcast skies outside drew me back to the doorway, but instead my hand felt along the bumpy wall until I found a switch.
Click.
Darkness.
Sigh.
After a moment of rubbing my temples and blinking through the blue dots in my vision, I shuffled down the main hall. Dark red smudges of paint along the black walls guided me to the top of the stairs.
Paper shuffling sounded from the open office, so I took a steadying breath and marched to the doorway.
“Damn it!” Drake yelled.
I stood at the office threshold, watching Drake clutch his hair, tugging it from his scalp before he dropped his forehead to the desk. Papers littered the surface and tumbled onto the floor. I bent down and lifted a spreadsheet from the worn area rug covering the painted floor. Columns of numbers made me slip into a giddy haze. My brain computed the lines of numbers and recategorized some of the columns. Two small errors leaped from the sheet at me.
I stood and placed the paper on his desk. “Can I help you?”
Drake’s head shot up, his eyes wide. It was the first time I’d seen his perfect composure altered to something real. “I…I didn’t hear you come in. I guess I was too busy with payroll and bills. Oh, is that coffee?”
