Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Who was I kidding? The shabby jacket and cart already did. That point was further emphasized when I rolled up to the salon and noted the elegant sign and upscale lobby area beyond the glass doors. In my former life, I would’ve held my head high as I rattled off my accomplishments, but now I just felt like a fish out of water.
When I finally got up the nerve to step inside, the receptionist didn’t miss how I’d parked my cart near the door so I could keep my eye on it.
She looked me up and down. “Can I help you?”
I glanced around the expansive, modern establishment, the energetic chatter from the stylists and their customers echoing through the open-concept space. “Yes, I’m here for—”
“A cut?” Her gaze took in my hair and beard. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m actually here for a job. Tessa Payne sent me from the shelter.” I looked toward the sidewalk, wishing I was still on the other side of the door. “I, uh, used to be a stylist myself until I fell on hard times.”
I hated that I wanted to explain myself to her. To somehow excuse my scruffy appearance and makeshift closet on wheels.
And Christ, my hands were shaking as bad as my voice.
She stood. “Let me get the manager.”
When she walked away, I suddenly felt like I had an audience. Curious glances, wary glances, were coming from all directions.
Fuck this.
I grabbed my cart, opened the door, and walked out, sucking in the fresh air as I tried to get as far away from that place as possible. I’d explain to Tessa that it didn’t work out. She probably wouldn’t be surprised.
I walked around the city, finally settling on a bench in North Coast Harbor. The air had warmed, and the wind had died down enough that I was able to enjoy the temperature and waterfront view. A tugboat and freighter were passing through the channel just beyond the Lake Erie breakwater.
Fishing around in my cart, I pulled out my styling set. Unzipping the storage pack, I fingered the different scissors and shears, wondering if I’d ever be able to use them again, even on myself. Up to this point, there were way more important things to worry about. But being back in that environment, however briefly, had stirred a longing inside me—to be useful, productive, accepted again.
I considered chucking the set in the nearby garbage can, but then thought better of it. Storing them away again, I tugged the book out instead.
Getting lost in the pages, I read for a couple of hours undisturbed. It felt glorious, as if the real world had melted away and I was in my little cocoon of make believe. Sort of how I felt tucked inside my tent at night. Like as soon as I zipped up that flap, nothing bad could happen to me; reality wouldn’t intrude.
At least not until the following morning.
6
FOSTER
“Do you have surveillance cameras facing the street?” I asked the coffee-shop manager the next time I saw her behind the counter.
She glanced warily at me. “Why?”
I hitched a thumb over my shoulder. “There was an assault the other night on a man living on the streets.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” She looked away in discomfort. “Are the police investigating?”
“I…I don’t think so. But I thought if your camera showed the crime—”
She held up her hands. “I won’t get involved unless the police require it of us. They’d need to contact our security headquarters and—”
After that, I stopped listening because it was no use. They hadn’t made a report, and the businesses around here would be reluctant to get involved. Besides, Lachlan might frown on me engaging the manager. But I couldn’t imagine how helpless they must feel as a random person with the intent to hurt them was on the loose. It might’ve been a one-off, but the assailant needed to be held accountable.
I got our coffees and muffins and pushed through the door to the sidewalk.
I stood there for a moment, watching Lachlan interacting with Oscar. I swore if I walked in the opposite direction, that dog probably wouldn’t even notice I was missing, he was so enthralled by that man. And in a way, I was too.
My depression being worse of late, I looked for any creature comforts in my day. And Lachlan had become one of them. Somehow, he brought the vividness back to the trees and flowers lining the curb, and his yellow tent was like a beacon of light, as if Lachlan was proving to the world that he existed—loudly.
When I saw the adorable connection he had with my dog, I was still standing in the gray, but the edges had turned more brilliant, a silvery-golden metallic that made my existence feel a little less dull.
“Everything okay?” he asked as I finally approached them. “You were looking at us strangely.”