Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Oh, the electricity bill is late. We got a disconnect notice. I get paid tomorrow. I can cover it, but it will take all of my check. I’m hoping that the car wash didn’t take too much of your check. We are out of dish soap. Using it as our body wash and shampoo used it up.” She held up her glass of milk. “And I just drank the last of the milk.”
There was no check for me yet. I hadn’t cleaned our car. I would never waste our money on that with bills due. Which meant I also couldn’t quit the club yet. I had to work at the club until I got paid.
I went to the cookie jar, where we put our tip money, and counted out the four hundred seventy dollars I’d made last night before I was sent to the Winchester Parlor.
“Here. This should cover the electricity bill. I was going to use it to get the car looked at. Another light had come on yesterday, and we are way past due for an oil change. But I’ll go to work tonight and hopefully make enough in tips to handle the oil change.”
Gypsi nodded. “Okay, then I will go get groceries after work with my check.”
I started for the coffeepot when the gravel sound, alerting us someone was driving up, caught my attention. Turning around, I went back to the window to see the familiar Bentley. I stilled, waiting to see who stepped out of the car. The driver’s door opened, and Kye appeared. The back door remained closed as Kye walked toward the camper with a shopping bag in his hand.
“Who is that?” Gypsi asked behind me, and I spun around to look at her before hurrying to the door before she could.
“It’s, uh, one of the club’s drivers,” I explained and knew my daughter well enough to know she was going to need more of an explanation than that.
I opened the door just as Kye approached.
“Good morning, Ms. Parker. I was sent to deliver your purse.”
I reached out and took the bag from him. “Thank you, Kye,” I replied.
“I was also asked to see if you needed me to take you or your daughter anywhere today.”
Frowning, I shook my head.
What was Garrett doing—washing my car, offering his driver? Was it because of what had happened last night?
“Thank you, but we are fine,” I replied.
Kye nodded, then turned and walked back to the Bentley. I quickly closed the door and hoped Gypsi wasn’t about to ask me twenty questions.
“Why is a chauffeur in a Bentley returning your purse?” she asked me, narrowing her eyes.
I was always truthful with my daughter. I’d taught her the importance of telling the truth. However, in this moment, I wished more than anything that I could lie. I set the bag down on the small counter space and turned to her.
“Last night, one of the servers stole my purse and put it in the toilet. The management had it cleaned for me before returning it to me.”
Gypsi’s eyes went wide. “What the hell?! Why would someone do that? Did they fire her?”
I nodded. “They did fire her, yes. She had disliked me from day one.”
Gypsi looked livid as she jerked her glass of milk up from the table. “Jealous bitch,” she said angrily. “Are the other servers treating you badly? You can quit and work somewhere else, Mom. We don’t need that money.”
I shook my head. We did need that money. “Everyone else is very nice. I’ve made friends. I promise it’s okay. Besides, in a month, with these tips, we can head up the East Coast and have a new adventure.”
A small smile touched her lips as she nodded, then walked over to me, set her glass down, and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I’ll go find her and beat her up if I need to,” she said.
I held my daughter tightly and kissed her head. Gypsi’s fierceness was cute. But we both knew she was never going to win in a fight.
“That’s okay. No need. All is well.”
She nodded and stepped back from me. “If you’re sure,” she replied. “But I am not afraid to take her on.”
I laughed and reached out to cup her angelic face. “I am positive. Now, go get ready for work.”
She walked past me to the bathroom that was right past the kitchen sink. I waited until the door closed before opening the shopping bag to check on my purse and belongings.
Looking down inside the bag, I froze as I stared at a hobo-style bag, which had been the style of my purse. However, this wasn’t the purse I’d bought at Target four years ago on clearance. The hobo style was where the similarities ended. The LV monogram that covered the leather purse made my hands tremble as I stared down at it. I knew two things about Louis Vuitton purses. One, they were ridiculously expensive, and two, I would never own one.