Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
My heart finally slowed enough for the receptionist’s voice to penetrate, but I still didn’t respond. The words seemed stuck in my throat, and the longer it took to un-fuck myself, the deeper the furrow in her brows became until she was shifting on her feet and subtly looking around for help.
Shit.
“Sorry, um, hi,” I greeted awkwardly. The receptionist’s wary smile returned, so I took that as an invitation and approached the counter. “I saw that you’re hiring.” I thumbed over my shoulder toward the sign on the door. “Is the position still open?”
“That depends. Can I ask your name?”
“Atlas Beck,” I offered. “Call me Atlas.”
“Hi, Atlas. I’m Tuesday. We do have a position that just opened up. We need a part-time technician with at least one year’s experience.” Fuck. My shoulders deflated as I thanked her and backed away. As I pivoted on my heel, already considering plan B, she called out, “We’re also looking for a full-time receptionist!” I looked over my shoulder in time to see Tuesday sliding an application toward me with a gentle smile. “No experience needed.”
I rushed back to the counter and snatched the paper and pen she’d set on top. “Thanks.” I gave her a close-lipped smile before leaving as quickly as I came. Instead of filling it out, I folded and slipped the application inside my pocket before resuming my watch from across the street.
The twelve-foot windows made it easy to scope out the activity inside. Beyond the waiting room, I spotted an old-school Camaro with burnt-orange paint and white stripes hovering above the ground in one of the stations closest to the waiting room. A brooding man in gray overalls tinkered under the carriage, and while his focus was on the car, I cataloged every magnificent detail.
Brown dreads were piled on top of his head while the top of his gray overalls hung from his waist. Sweat and oil had stained the once-white T-shirt clinging to his muscles like glue. I didn’t know if the sun had chosen him personally as a spotlight or if the high-yellow undertones in his light brown skin were just that vibrant. The mystifying glow seemed to take over his complexion like a full-body halo.
Right now, his thick brows were bunched in frustration while the slight scowl on his wide mouth made him look anything but angelic.
Sinful was more like it.
Even from this distance, I could tell he was fine.
The traffic, the buildings, and the people rushing around me faded away as I studied him without his knowledge. I felt myself getting sucked in, so I forced myself to look away and took the photo from my pocket as if it were the key to what I was supposed to do next.
The edges were wrinkled, and the image faded, but I could still almost make out every nuance of the smiles on the five teenagers frozen in time. They were posing and dressed in their best—Sean Jean, Rocawear, and FUBU—as a party raged in the decrepit factory behind them.
None of them looked a day over sixteen.
I focused on the boy on the far left, who possessed the same aura as the man in the window, except he was smiling shyly instead of frowning. In the photo, he had short curly hair instead of dreads, and a strong jaw and facial hair replaced his baby face. But the most obvious evidence that twenty years had passed was how well he now filled out his shirt. The muscles in his arms bulged against the white cotton—unlike how the red material he wore in the photo dwarfed him.
At that moment, I knew I’d found one of the Kings.
The brooding mechanic before me was the same shy teenager in the photo, much older now, but I was sure of it.
For some reason, the knowledge only brought me sadness and regret rather than triumph. I had a pretty good guess why as I traced the curves of his once-innocent face.
Not the same after all.
His crown of light wasn’t as bright now as it had been twenty years ago. Someone or something had dimmed it.
My mournful sigh billowed in the cold air before disappearing in the wind as I pocketed the photo without looking at the others. There was no need. I’d been staring at their faces every night since I received the photo.
I knew exactly which King I’d found.
The squeal of brakes announcing a city bus’s arrival nearly made me jump out of my skin as it rolled to a stop in front of me. One shake of my head at the driver, and he pressed the gas to keep going. The moment the bus no longer blocked my view, my gaze traveled back to the window—to the man inside it.
I sucked in a breath as my stomach dipped and the ground felt like it had slipped from underneath me.