Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“What brings you here?” he asks.
“You,” I say. “We’re supposed to be soulmates, remember?”
He shifts his weight. “Olga, go grab some lunch.”
“It’s eleven,” she says.
He makes big eyes at her and tilts his head toward the door. “Have an early one.”
Looking between us, she grabs her handbag from under the counter and all but runs to the door.
She’s almost in the street when Mint calls after her. “Best not talk to anyone.”
The bell chimes over the door when it closes. An uncomfortable silence follows. I wait for Mint to make the first move, but he can’t seem to find the right words.
After I moment, I lean my elbows on the counter and help the man out. “You must be wondering what happened to me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Really, Cas, I don’t want to know.”
“The less you know the safer, right?”
“Something like that. Look, just tell me why you’re here.”
“I need your help.” I bat my eyelashes. “I need a place to crash.”
He lifts his eyes toward the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be dragged into whatever mess you’re in.”
I lower my voice. “The cops are after me. I need help.”
He pushes his thin hair from his face. “What do you want from me?”
“A small loan to see me through until I get back on my feet.”
“Money?” he asks in a shrill voice.
“Yes, money. You always told me you have a lot of it. I reckoned you wouldn’t mind lending me some. I’m stuck here until I can scrape together enough cash to disappear again.”
“How can I loan money to a dead person? What guarantee do I have you’ll pay me back? If you don’t, I can’t even take legal action.” He adds, “Since you don’t exist, at least not on the records.”
He knows I’m back in town, that I’m in trouble, and out of money. That means I should hang around for a while, at least until I can get my hands on cash. I’ve achieved what I wanted to. I should just get the hell out, but since he’s so opposed to helping me when he once pledged his love to me for life, I can’t help but play with him.
I make an innocent face. “You could simply give me some. Call it a donation.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I won’t call the cops on you, but you have to leave.”
“Are you throwing me out? What about all that talk about how we were meant to be together and that you’d wait for me as long as it took?”
His face turns blotchy red. “I only said that to get into your pants. You’re not marriage material, Cas. You’re the girl a guy wants to fuck while he’s sowing his wild oats, not the girl he wants to be the mother of his children.”
Mother and children hit a sore point.
That does it. Forget red. I see purple, ugly black-purple-mashed-up red. He’s just like that guy at Sun City who made a crude remark about my clothes. Just like that guy, Mint made me a generalization. On top of that, he’d been too much of a coward back then to defend me. He can learn a thing of two from Ian. Ian kidnapped me, but he never treated me like a slut who’s good for a fuck but unworthy of being a mother.
Outwardly calm, I rest the dirty sole of my sneaker on the plush, white leather poof meant for wealthy customers, pull up the leg of my jeans, and take my gun from the holster.
“What the fuck?” Mint exclaims, backing up to the wall.
I point the gun at him. “Put your hands in the air.” It’s stupid, but I’ve always wanted to say that.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says, his pupils bouncing like pinballs in their sockets.
Keeping my eyes and weapon on him, I backtrack to the door, lock it, and turn the open sign to closed. There’s an alarm button under the cash register counter, but he’s a good few steps away. I guess he never thought I’d have the balls to pull a gun on him.
Coming around the counter, I say, “Go upstairs.” When he turns to execute the order, I jab the barrel of the gun in his ribs. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
He walks like a stickman, stopping at the wall panel and entering the code to open the gate.
I push him over the threshold. “Go on. No funny business or I shoot you in the ass.”
“Fuck.” He glances at me from over his shoulder. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“Not the kind of woman who’d make a good mother, huh? I mean, being out of my mind and all. I suppose being attractive and wearing clothes that make you feel good aren’t characteristics of a good mother either.”