Page 21 of Unravel Me

My best friend consoled me the rest of the car ride, through her drunkenness, to the best of her ability.

But as I was falling asleep in bed an hour later, after washing the glitter off my chest, and peeling the skin-tight bodysuit off, I cried.

At least it wasn’t about Jackson this time.

Chapter thirteen

Rhett

Icircle the block for the third time, cursing this damn place. Mrs. Lawson casually told me to pick up the check from her, but I knew she was about to leave the country for the summer, so I didn’t want to miss my chance. It wouldn’t be the first time I was stiffed by one of the rich pricks in this part of town.

She also didn’t believe in paying in anything but cash or check, which wasn’t what annoyed me. It was that I had to pick it up from her on a Friday morning downtown, where the parking was slim. And even slimmer for a truck like mine.

But I needed the money. On the fourth loop around the block in the historic neighborhood with narrow brick-paved streets, I spotted a parking space. With my blinkers on, I inch forward when a large SUV cuts in front of me, sliding crookedly into the spot.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now!” I yell to no one but myself. Out pops a blonde chick with two enormous coffees in her hand. She kicks the door shut behind her, talking to someone through earbuds, not even looking in my direction before she struts across the street into the Brecken Building. A car behind me lays on the horn, so I do what I haven’t done in a long time—crank the window and stick my hand out, winding up my middle finger.

Like I said, I hate this city. It brings out the worst in me.

Ten minutes later, after finally finding a spot several blocks away, I made it to the building, buzzing Mrs. Lawson’s apartment. Tilting my head back, I peer at the six-story building, thinking back to the night on the rooftop. Thinking about the dance with Audrey at the Bourbon Barrel. My biggest regret was not getting her number. She drove away before I could get the chance. Maybe it’s for the best, there’s nothing a woman like Audrey could possibly want in a man like me, right?

Mrs. Lawson buzzes me in, getting me out of the hot, humid sun, and I take the stairs, needing to get some of this pent-up anger out. My lungs burn by the time I get to the fifth floor, and I’m sure I’m red in the face when she invites me in. Mrs. Lawson—which is the only name she ever let me call her—thanked me again for the work in her custom walk-in closet and handed me an envelope with a check that would be enough to sustain me for a few weeks. Enough to get a new A/C unit. It made up for the way she talked to me—like I was an uncultured swine.

Well, it sorta made up for it.

Eager to get back to the peaceful lull of Roseville, and with the envelope tucked into my pocket, I pull my baseball cap down and take the steps back down. But as I reach the lobby, the elevator doors ding, drawing my attention to the most beautiful woman who wore a scowl that could kill.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Audrey says clear as day, running a hand across the top of her ponytail, and I can’t help but cock my head back and let out a husky chuckle.

“If you’re stalking me and going to murder me, just get it over with, okay?” She stops moving, a hand truck stacked with uneven boxes teetering against her.

“Wow—of all things, that’s not what I was expecting you to say,” I reply, but she continues to glare at me. Even in her annoyed state, she looks impossibly attractive.

She turns her attention back to the dolly, groaning under its weight, her teeth gritted, anger fueling each push.

“I’m not stalking you. I was in the building to pick up my last paycheck.” Drumming my fingers on my thigh, I rack my brain to say something else. But Audrey is paying me no attention as she steadies the dolly that appears way too heavy for her and starts walking backwards towards the door.

“Let me.” I reach out a hand, but she shakes her head, jaw tight.

“No, thanks. I got it,” Audrey snaps back.

I don’t know what the hell I did, but regardless, she’s made me feel like a jackass. I also can’t remember the last time I cared what anyone thought of me, maybe that’s why my heart feels lodged in my throat. She’s pissing me off in a way that’s confusing as hell.

Stepping behind her, I hold open the door, biting my lip as she yanks her uneven boxes over the threshold. “Thanks,” she mumbles as she heads straight towards the big black SUV that cut me off.

Of course. The blonde was Audrey’s friend from the bar.

I watch in complete horror as the hand truck shakes back and forth, the boxes threatening to fall off. I could leave her there, but I would never do that. I may be an asshole, but I'm a gentleman. So, I light a cigarette, inhale, and watch her wave her foot under the bumper, prompting the trunk to open. She hulks a box into the trunk and my eyebrows shoot up.

She is determined as hell; I will give her that. But it’s like watching a trainwreck…and I gotta intervene.

She reaches up, aggressively tightening her long ponytail, and her chest heaves with the efforts, while she also expertly avoids eye contact with me.

“Let me,” I said again, taking a few strides towards her and lifting the next box into the trunk. Audrey bites her lip and gazes across the street.

“I overpacked that one.” She points to the bulging cardboard box with probably an entire roll of packing tape keeping its contents in.

I want to blurt out ‘no shit’ but I withhold and put it in the trunk while she holds her scowl.