Little Black Book(7)

By: Tabatha Vargo & Melissa Andrea

“I’m not going to say anything. I’m not an idiot, Roz.” He smiled sweetly at me. “We’ll find something. I told you, I’m not worried.”

I smiled at him as he got out of the car, but I felt low—lower than low—and I knew what needed to be done. I had to put Kyle first, and that meant I was going to Trish to beg for a job.

I got out the car and tripped over the sidewalk going to Trish’s front door. She lived in a nice apartment complex. It was nothing I could afford as of yet, but with her help, I was hoping to. I knocked on the door ten times before she finally answered it. Her eyes were thick with sleep, and her hair was wildly sticking up in odd directions.

“Someone better be dead,” she rasped.

“No one’s dead, but I need your help.” I stepped around her and sat on the couch.

She sighed, closed the door, and turned to me with her hands on her hips. “You do realize I just went to bed like an hour ago, right?” She dramatically fell onto the couch beside me and pulled a throw blanket over her legs.

“I’m sorry, but I need that job at Clive’s. I know you’ve already done a lot for us. And I really appreciate you and your parents giving me a storage space and helping me and Kyle load it all up, but I need one more favor and I promise I’ll never ask for anything again.”

“Fine. Vick is looking for another waitress. I told her about you. Just show up this afternoon around five. I’m pretty sure she’ll give you the job,” Trish slurred. Her eyes slowly began to close.

“Just like that? I don’t have to interview or anything?”

“Wear a pair of the shortest shorts you can find. That should get you right in.”

I walked out of Trish’s apartment with a pair of the shortest shorts I’d ever seen and a sinking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t ideal, but it was money. At that point, I would have done whatever I had to do to make sure Kyle had a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

“Can you start immediately?”

Vick was nice, but to the point. There was no sugar coating, and she obviously didn’t believe in small talk or getting to know you. She was pretty, but didn’t flaunt it. I got the impression she’d rather you fear her.

“Yes.” I tried to sound self-assured, but I couldn’t have felt more out of place if I tried. “I can start this weekend if…“

“Good,” she interrupted as if I hadn’t been talking. “I could use someone tonight.”

She slipped off the barstool to the cocktail table we’d been sitting at and left me behind. I frowned before I realized she wanted me to follow her. Like a good little lap dog, I hoped off my stool and caught up to her with quick steps.

“Tonight?” There was no keeping the slight tremor from my voice this time. “But don’t I need some kind of training? I’ve never…”

Vick stopped and turned abruptly, causing me to skid to a halt. She crossed her arms and stared me down like she was an alpha and wanted me to submit. I almost did.

“You need training to carry drinks around?”

Well when she put it like that. “No,” I said firmly, but I felt my cheeks heat up.

“You said you could start immediately and I need someone tonight. Do you want the job or not?”


The word flew out of my mouth, even though I knew starting right at that moment was a bad idea. I still didn’t know what I was going to do with Kyle. We were living in a car for God’s sake. And Clive’s was in the middle of the city. Not the best place to leave a thirteen-year-old, in the car… alone.

But we’d make do. We always did.

“Okay then.” She dropped her arms and gave me a once over. “I’ll get you an outfit and I’ll have one of the girls show you around after you’re done changing.”

I panicked when I thought of Kyle. “But…” Her impatient sigh stopped me and I bit my tongue. “I just have to make a phone call.”

“Make your call and I’ll have one of the girls bring you an outfit. Find me when you’re dressed.”

I nodded and she turned to leave.

Before she got too far, she turned around again. “Tell Mike, the bartender, to let you use the phone.”

“Thank you,” I said to her retreating back. Turning around I saw a muscular guy behind the bar. “Are you Mike?”

When he looked at me, he flipped his head to the side to move the blond hair hanging in his eyes. Leaning onto the bar, face inches from mine, he smiled big enough to show teeth.

He’d obviously been going nuts with the steroids. His arms were easily the size of my head and his shirt could barely contain the muscles trying to pop free from his chest. He reminded me of the Hulk just before he turned green.

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