Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“And miss out on such an important night of my brother’s life because of Bastard Bill? I skipped Christmas. No way am I skipping this.” Even if every bone in my body is warning me against subjecting myself to the torture. “He can skip it.” As if that’ll happen.
“Okay, well, don’t forget that I can’t be there for moral support this time. It’s Shane’s grandparents’ anniversary. We’re going out to dinner with them and Cody.”
“Fine, but you better be coming to the wedding.” Joe promised she’s on the guest list, and if she’s not, she’ll be my plus-one. But her mention of moral support has me thinking. “Is Shane off shift that night, or is he taking the shift off?”
She scowls at the ceiling as she mentally maps out Shane’s schedule into next weekend. “Nope, that’s a day off.”
“Perfect. I think I have a backup, if he hasn’t found someone to bang yet.”
Reaching for my phone, I fire off a text to Dean.
Chapter Fifteen
“Have a good night, Vin!” I call out.
The owner of Vinnie’s, a middle-aged man with a shiny bald head and a unibrow, pauses building a row of pizzas for delivery orders to smile at me. “See ya around soon, hey?” He winks. “And keep givin’ them hell.”
It seems everyone has read the David and Goliath article, and, in the case of Vinnie, a long-time Polson Falls business owner who has had to contend with three big pizza chains setting up shop over the last five years, he’s happy to see someone putting up a fight.
“What else do I got to do, right?” I hip-check the door, two steak sandwiches wrapped in paper dangling from my fingers. They’re nowhere near as good as the ones from our favorite diner back in Jersey, but at almost ten p.m. on a Friday, they’re perfect for a night of loafing in front of the TV with Scarlet.
Few cars ease along Main Street toward their destinations, their headlights glaring against the wet pavement. The CornerMart lights cut out as I’m passing. I see Bob’s silhouette at the window, switching off the open sign. It seems early for a convenience store to shut down—the ones around our old apartment were open all night—but Bob’s business relies on foot traffic, which is virtually nonexistent in the winter. He’s lucky to get two customers after seven. Most people drive the extra five minutes to the Rite-Aid.
I wonder what Bob will do now that he’s being evicted. He closed his store for twenty minutes to join the protest. When I asked him if he’d found a new location yet, he laughed sadly. It would cost him too much to set up elsewhere, and rent prices are double what he’s been paying Todd up until now.
The HG sales center is cast in darkness but as I’m coasting past, a glow in the very back catches my eye. I slow my car to a crawl.
Garrett is there, leaning against a wall, his hands folded on top of his head. I haven’t seen him since the day of the protest. Morgan has manned the sales office every day this week, and his SUV was gone from its usual parking spot.
On impulse, I pull into a parking spot and hop out. Darting up the sidewalk, I reach for the door … and find it unlocked.
So I saunter in.
“You should lock your doors. Never know what might crawl in from the street at night.” The muffled sound of death metal music carries from the apartment above.
“Just what I need …” Garrett’s arms drop. “I’m really not in the mood for this tonight.” There’s not a hint of humor in his voice as he stares up at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple jutting.
“Having a bad week?” That protest and article might have had more of an impact than I guessed.
“Something like that.” His chest heaves with a sigh and he pulls himself up to full height. “This is the first project my uncle has handed off to me to manage end to end, all decisions. It’s not even a big one, compared to some of HG’s work. It was supposed to be simple and straightforward, and a way to prove myself to him as he plans succession for his company. Do you understand what that means? Running HG. Because Richard is getting older, and he did ask me here to help him.” His jaw tenses. “It’s not my fault you misunderstood what I said that day.”
I snort. “Don’t even try. You misled me.”
“Well, now he’s getting involved, because I can’t handle things.” He paces, his body rigid with tension. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but this is my livelihood, Justine. My future.”
“You seriously want to talk about livelihood? Go talk to Bob.” I fling a hand in the direction of the darkened convenience store. “Or Ned, or Vinnie across the street, who’ve all been hurt by HG’s development projects in this town. I’d say talk to Yvonne, but she’s already gone.”