Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“I work—worked there as well, on the weekends. It was rare for me to be up front. Since that closed down, though, I’ve been picking up shifts at Clip Tease off Texas Street,” I explained, as I ran the sponge covered in foundation over the black bruises around Penelope’s eyes.
He grunted.
I worked while I listened to his brain turn over and over again.
It took him another ten minutes to get to his next question.
“Why do you do this?” He asked finally.
I lifted both of my shoulders. “I got in a fight with a customer. He kept coming in once a week just to get his hair washed. Never paid for a clip. Never tipped. Turns out, he just got his rocks off by having his head rubbed. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t come. He yelled, causing me to inadvertently drench him with water, and he’d called the manager. From there it degraded into a he said/she said match, and I lost my job. Not that I liked listening to people bitch about their problems all day long.”
“You probably wouldn’t do so well at being a cop. That’s all I fucking do all day; listen to people’s life stories,” he muttered as he watched me squish a piece of Penelope’s face back on. “That’s disgusting.”
I shrugged. “I’m used to it. At first, it wasn’t so great, but now it’s just natural to me. I enjoy the silence. I love that I can make them pretty for one last party in their honor. I used to sing to them when I first started. The silence was disturbing, so I sang. Brittany still teases me about that.”
He smiled. “So, what are your plans for Christmas?”
“I think my dad is going to try to come by. He didn’t really say he could or couldn’t yet, but he won’t know until closer to the day. How about you?” I asked.
I thought about the question for a few moments before answering. “I don’t really know. My mom and I don’t spend it together. My brother’s in Germany. I haven’t seen him in two years, since he took his command post. Normally, I’d spend it with Trance, but he just got married and all that fun shit. Guess it’s just you and me babe. If your pop shows up I’ll head home.”
My mouth pursed. Christmas hadn’t really been that big of a deal to us since my mom died.
“What does your brother do?” I asked as I inspected the color of Penelope’s face to make sure there were no inconsistencies.
“Master Sargent in the army. Although he met his wife in Germany, and I suspect he has no real desire to come home anymore. His job is cushy. He doesn’t deploy. Hell, I don’t even think he goes out of his office during the day,” he explained.
The next thing I picked up was my curling iron.
I had two pictures of Penelope, both of which had her hair straightened. Except Mr. Stanley wanted her hair in curls, because he hated that she straightened her hair. He also hated when she wore makeup. Unfortunately, I had to since she’d used her face to debark a tree.
“Have you always been a c-cop?” I asked shyly.
The fact that he was a cop still bothered me, but not as much as it once did.
I still had a problem with cops in general. However, Loki was different. There was just something about him that made everything right in my world.
Sadly, that trust didn’t extend to his friends.
Trance had shown up at his place to borrow a car jack yesterday, and just the sight of him in his uniform had sent me into a near panic attack.
It was Loki’s reassuring arms around my shoulders that kept the attack from going into full out panic mode.
I was sure, with time, it would get better, but in the interim, I had a lot of work to do.
“No. From seventeen to twenty-three I was in the Coast Guard, I went to school part time and got my paramedic certification. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I got out. While she was doing treatments, I got my peace officer and firefighter certification,” he told me.
The curling iron in my hand dropped down to hang parallel to my leg, and I stared at him open mouthed. “Holy shit! You’re like...quadruple certified!”
He chuckled. “Triple certified, and yes.”
“Hmm,” I observed. “Then why did you choose to be a police officer?”
“My stepdad was,” he said, as he stood and stretched his arms up high over his head.
The move showed off the tight expanse of his belly, as well as the gun and badge at his hip.
He didn’t hide them around me, and I was grateful. I’d never get over my phobia if I wasn’t facing it, and it wouldn’t do to have a panic attack every time I saw my boyfriend’s friends.
“When did your mom remarry?” I asked.
He smiled fondly as he walked over to the bulletin board on the side of the room that had pictures of the funeral home staff.
“When I was seventeen,” he told me. “I fucked up and got sucked into a gang when I was eleven. When I was sixteen, I decided I needed out and I went to the gang resource officer for help. He helped all right, and told me what I should do. The next day, I went to the leader, Mick, and told him I was out. He said if I could survive the exit, I was free to leave. I thought I was in the clear, too, until some little wannabe came out of fucking nowhere and landed on my back. He’d already slit my throat by the time I realized anything was even wrong.”
I stood up straight as I listened to him talk, and stared at his back with open mouth shock. “He slit your throat?” I gasped.
He turned and gave me a sardonic smile. “How did you think I got this pretty scar?”
As he asked, he fingered the scar at the base of his throat.