Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He stood there staring while his mind reeled.
“Don’t worry, it’s not airborne. You can’t catch queer.” With a roll of his eyes, Azariah strutted away with an intoxicating swagger that was so full of confidence and strength it blew Connelly’s mind. His palms were sweaty and his chest ached from holding his breath too long. He’d been watching the waiter he knew only as Azariah since he’d transferred to the 23rd three months ago and started eating lunch at Sal’s. Something about the guy had captured Connelly’s interest. A puzzle he hadn’t been able to solve. Now he knew what he’d been missing.
Bright red lips and a pair of killer heels. Damn.
Talk about a puzzle. The Azariah mystery had just gotten interesting.
The problem was, Connelly couldn’t solve this one. He couldn’t pursue Azariah no matter how appealing he found his daring personality. If he did, everything he’d worked for since his father passed would be ruined. Still, instead of making his way back to his car like he’d planned, he followed Azariah into the diner.
Hell, he needed to eat didn’t he? It didn’t have to mean anything.
* * *
Z stomped into the restaurant in his take-no-prisoners purple stiletto boots. He was going to kill Landon. Fucking asshole, leaving without a word and saddling him with the whole goddamn rent. Motherfucker. Seriously, his roommate was going get a big surprise when he got back from wherever the hell he’d disappeared to—a pointy-toed boot up his ass.
If Sal didn’t give him extra shifts, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He didn’t like asking for help, especially from someone who’d already done so much for him, but it wasn’t like he was asking for money or anything. He didn’t do handouts. He wasn’t a mooch.
Everything he had now was because he’d worked his ass off.
That wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
He found his boss in the closet he called an office. Sal was hunched over the computer keyboard, pecking at it with two fingers. Z knocked on the door frame, but didn’t wait to be acknowledged. He strolled in and sat in the only chair available—a metal fold-up with a tied-on cushion.
“Fuckin’ computers,” Sal said. “Hate the damn things.”
“Hire a bookkeeper.”
Sal grunted and finally turned to look at him. “What do you want?”
“More hours?”
Sal sighed and picked up the calendar he used to schedule the staff shifts. “You’re in luck. Jimmy just asked for two weeks off, the little shit.”
Z didn’t hide his amusement because as gruff as Sal looked, he was actually a big softy, especially with Jimmy. The kid was his nephew and the only boy in his generation, so of course Sal spoiled the crap out of him.
“He was supposed to come in this morning but since you’re here, you can take his shift.”
“What? Now?”
Sal looked up from his work and squinted at Z. “Yeah, now. Is that a problem?” The lift of one thick, unkempt eyebrow told Z that if he wanted to take the rest of Jimmy’s shifts too, he’d better not complain.
Did he have a choice? After the conversation with his landlady that morning, he didn’t think so. She was a decent old woman, but she wouldn’t have any alternative but to kick his sorry ass to the curb if he didn’t come up with the money. As it was, he had until Monday to get her the rent that stupid fucking Landon was supposed to have paid.
Monday.
It was already Wednesday and he had no idea how he was going to come up with the money to keep a roof over his head.
Finding a decent apartment on his budget was difficult enough, but add the fact that he was a moody bitch who also happened to be fantastically queer made it almost impossible.
He’d put out ads for a new roommate, but that wasn’t going to help his current problem. Besides, Landon hadn’t technically moved out, he’d just gone off on one of his wanderlust adventures. And because of his irresponsibility, Z was about to get his ass thrown out.
“Perfect.” He smiled as sincerely as he could.
The boys would understand, hopefully—it wasn’t like they’d never skipped rehearsal before. Still, he could hear Tam’s lecture in the back of his mind and tried not to cringe. After Ansel’s drama a couple months ago everyone was still on edge. He didn’t want to disrupt the tenuous calm if he didn’t have to.
He also didn’t want a concrete pillow and gravel mattress.
Priorities.
“So what are you still doing here?” Sal’s half-smile contradicted his words and made Z grin for real as he rose from the seat.
“I just can’t get enough of your pretty face, boss.”
With a deep chuckle and a shake of his head Sal said, “Get out of here, smart-ass. We’ve got customers.”
As he made his way to the unisex bathroom reserved for staff, Z pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Ansel, letting him know he wouldn’t make it today.