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)
So he does talk.
I was almost fascinated as I watched his lips move. His mouth was downright sinful, which was a shame since he didn’t seem to use it much.
Or maybe he found better ways to put it to use.
Before I could decide if the turn my thoughts took were weird or not, Roc started cracking up. “You’re probably right, bruh.” I frowned. Why had Roc been staring at me when he said that? Oh, fuck. They were talking about me, weren’t they? “My boy said you might not want to eat that food when it comes. Tanya probably spit in it.”
“Tanisha.”
“What?” Roc’s brows dipped in confusion.
“The waitress’s name. It’s Tanisha.”
He waved me off. “It’s whatever the fuck I say it is. So where you from?”
I blinked at how quickly he switched topics before responding with a question of my own. “Why?”
“Aye, you rude as fuck, you know that?” He was scowling now, all trace of humor and goodwill gone as he stared me down. “I want to know because Golden said he saw you scoping our place of business like you the Feds or something.”
A moment later, I froze when I felt something cold and hard press against my knee.
“And in case you’re wondering, that shit isn’t rhetorical. I’ll blow your fucking kneecap off if I don’t like your answer.”
I cleared my throat, forcing the tremble from my voice before I allowed myself to speak. “I’m supposed to believe you’ll shoot me in front of all these people?”
“Why not? They get paid not to see shit, and I’ve been itching to use that meat grinder they got in the back.”
The hard look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t fucking around.
“Where I’m from is irrelevant since I’m never going back. And for your information…” I glared at Golden, who was picking at his food as if he’d already lost interest. “I wasn’t watching you,” I lied. “I needed a job, and I saw you were hiring.” I paused, waiting for some indication that he believed me. When none came, I said, “I can prove it.”
I reached into my back pocket and snatched free my proof without regard for the gun Roc had pointed at me. Then, unfolding the application, I slammed the paper onto the table before pushing it toward him.
Roc merely glanced at it before meeting my gaze again. “It’s not filled out.”
I waved at the table and the restaurant in answer. “I was about to when you two followed me here like paranoid creeps.”
The next few moments were the longest of my life as I waited for Roc to decide whether or not to shoot me and grind me into little pieces. Or maybe he’d be cruel and turn me into ground meat while I was still alive. I wasn’t sure I’d make an amazing stew.
“Oh, aight,” he said, shocking me before sitting back and putting his gun back in his waist like it was nothing.
I’d barely processed the news that he wasn’t going to kill or maim me before the waitress showed up with my food.
I took one look at the suspicious-looking meat sandwiched between the brioche bun and pushed the plate away. Roc cackled when he saw my nose turned up and was back to grinning and looking partially sane.
“It’s chicken, baby girl, I promise you. And I was kidding about Tanya spitting in your food. She got rocks for brains, but she ain’t suicidal.”
With a commanding look, he pushed the plate back toward me. After a second of deliberation, I picked up the sandwich and sniffed it before taking a reluctant bite.
The moment the greasy morsel touched my taste buds, I began scarfing the sandwich down.
I felt Roc and Golden watching me, but I didn’t care about my table manners. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. The only thing that had mattered was getting to Idlewild, finding whoever had sent me the photos, and forgetting why I’d left home in the first place.
“You said you’re never going back to wherever the fuck you came from,” Roc said after a few moments of watching me eat. “Why is that?”
“Does it matter?” I questioned after swallowing my mouthful.
Leaning forward, Roc braced his tatted forearms lined with thick veins on the table. I gulped down my food under the intensity of his gaze but didn’t allow myself to look away. “You said you needed a job, right? Then it matters, so consider this an interview. And, baby girl?” At the answering rise of my brows, he said, “You better impress me because you won’t get another.”
My gaze darted to Golden, staring at me as he silently waited to hear my story.
I sat back and turned toward the window when I felt that familiar wave of anguish wash over me. I didn’t need Roc or Golden to see it and feel sorry for me. I didn’t need their pity. I needed answers.