Page 38 of Expressionate
I don’t know, but people get uncomfortable if you tell them that you have no clue what it’s like to have a normal family – a normal mother that loves and supports you. So, I nod my head and guess what she’s about to ask. “I can open the store by myself,” I say. “Noworries.”
The relief on her face is immediate. “Thank you so much, Love. I really appreciate this.” She doesn’t waste any time handing over the keys and taking off her apron before grabbing her stuff. “Call me if you need anything or if you can’t figure something out. I’m only twenty-five minutesaway.”
I wave her away. “Focus on your family,” I say. “I’ll be fine. Willow is coming inlater.”
Daniella nods and retreats out the backdoor, and just like that I’m alone in BookWorm. Just as I release a sigh, my phone goes off. I pull it from my purse and drop it in my apron pocket. I’ll check it later when I’m done getting everythingready.
I hurry through the easy tasks of checking cash registers and unlocking the front doors. Customers don’t even start to trickle in until an hour past opening. My coworker, Willow, comes in early and for a Saturday morning, things go smoothly. It’s only when I take my break that I remember the message on myphone.
Heading down the long back hallway to the lockers, I pull it out and check myscreen.
Trish:Anne knows about the hospitalvisit.
I’m not really sure why I should know that. At least not until I read the next text she sent that I didn’t hear gooff.
Trish:She knows you picked me up and that we’ve been seeing eachother.
I tense, my skin feeling itchy under the surface, but it was bound to happen. With stiff fingers, I type that as my response. Her reply isimmediate.
Trish:She wants to seeyou.
Ifrown.
Love:I’m not sure that’s a goodidea.
Trish:Please? Maybe she missesyou.
I stare at my screen with a hollow feeling in my chest. People like Anne don’t change. The ‘Annes’ and the ‘Dannys’ of the world are the users, and people are their drug of choice. I was around both of them too much, knew them too deeply, and I became a user too. I let people touch me and use me and I used them in return, for money, for escape, for self-punishment. I close my eyes against the memories. The memory dream I had that morning comes back to me in a rush. My phone pingsagain.
Trish:I’m going to be graduating in a few years. I’d really like the both of you to be there. Maybe this is the way to get the family backtogether.
“Love?” Willow’s voice down the hall calls to me as I grit my teeth. Before I can think better of it, I type out something I know I’m going toregret.
Love:Fine. I’ll seeher.
I feel sick to my stomach as I shove my phone into my purse and leave it there to go back to the front of the store. I find Willow with her crazy, bleached hair waiting and shifting in her kittenheels.
“What’s up?” I ask, hoping there’s some sort of problem. Anything to distractme.
“Um…” she starts, looking around before pushing her forefinger at the bridge of her black rimmed glasses, shoving them back up her nose. “There’s a guy here looking foryou.”
“Okay?” I start toward thefront.
“Wait!” she squeaks out, grabbing my arm. “H-he’s really big and um…tattooed.” I can just guess who it is, and I couldn’t have asked for a better distraction. “Are you in any trouble?” Willow asks in a hissedwhisper.
For the first time in a long time, someone other than the man up front and my own sister have made me want to laugh. As it stands, I can’t keep my lips from twitching, but I shake my head. “No. Don’t worry. I knowhim.”
“Oh…” her manicured nails release me, and she steps back. “Sorry, I justthought…”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave away her concern. “I’m sure he’s used to thatreaction.”
She nods. “Okay, I’ll just…um…get back to um, the counter.” She disappears through the rows ofshelves.
I stare after her before turning and heading toward the cash registers. I’m sure Tax is being the model citizen. If he’s not there, then he’s in the café just to the side. Turning the corner and spotting the mess of dark hair, I realize I wasright.
Tax is flipping through a magazine. It’s a rare opportunity for me to watch him without that piercing gaze of his analyzing me. What it is about him that breaks down my walls, I don’t know. He’s handsome, yes, but I’ve been with handsome men before. He’s tall and tattooed. I’ve been with tall and tattooed men before too. So, what is it? It’s not a softness in him. There doesn’t seem to be much of that. He pushes and breaks down my barriers and jumps through like it’s his right. He is hard,immovable.
Tax is not simply another fish in the sea. Heisthe fucking sea. All violent waves and angry storms and sexy calm with dark, dangerous monsters lurking beneath his surface. I must be crazy, because I likeit.
