Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“What?” I asked, looking at Tember.
If one was going to crack, it would be Tember. He was softhearted. But his face looked like he was about to burst into tears.
“We are overstaffed, and the budget is tight. We’re cutting back. I’m sorry. If you need a recommendation, please use us. We will give you an excellent one.”
I was so confused. Just last week, they had praised me, telling the evening shift that I was their hardest worker and they were going to cut everyone’s hours to give me more if they didn’t step it up.
“I know this is sudden, but we had to make a decision. Money is tight,” Tember said, tears glistening in his eyes. “It just has to be this way. But go on and apply at a restaurant. You will get a new job in no time. Like Alf said, use us as your recommendation.”
I wanted to ask why me, but that seemed selfish. They’d obviously struggled with the decision. But I could think of a few other employees who rarely showed up on time or at all and some who took more smoke breaks than allowed. Maybe they had been cut too though. I hated to make this harder on them than it was.
“Okay,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Tember started to come toward me, and Alf grabbed his arm, pulling him back as his gaze scanned the area nervously.
“Come inside,” he told Tember gruffly.
Tember seemed to understand his reaction and nodded, then went back into the food truck and shut the door without another word. I stood there, alone again.
This had really just happened. I’d lost my job. My heart sank even lower as I walked slowly back to my bike. Crosby wouldn’t know where I was if he ever decided to come find me. I had his number, but he’d not responded to my texts. I’d left him alone, hoping he’d come back after some time. He hadn’t, and now, it was too late.
At the rate people were getting rid of me, I was even more convinced there was something about me that turned them away.
When I reached the bike, I climbed on and started back out onto the main road.
Where did I go now? To the house? To find a job? Could I even rent a place to live if I didn’t have a job? What did one need to rent a place? If I could just get in touch with Ares, he could tell me who this guy was who was trying to kill me and what to do. How though?
With my family gone, the only other person who would have talked to Ares and might know what was going on was Nicco. Going anywhere near him and the people those two had started hanging out with made me cringe, but I had no other choice. Nicco had never held a knife to my throat, so there was that. He was definitely the lesser of the two evils. There was a very good chance that Nicco would know why this man was hell-bent on finding and killing Ares.
If it came down to it, he might even let me sleep on his sofa for a few nights. I immediately shut that thought down, thinking about his apartment. I knew the kind of parties they had there. I’d seen pictures on Ares’s phone. There was a chance I could get an STD from that sofa.
The sun was brutal, and I was coated in a thin layer of sweat when I parked outside Nicco’s apartment building. I glanced up at it and wished there were anywhere else I could go. There were probably drugs in that apartment. I wrapped my arms around my waist and contemplated this before I gave in and headed for the stairs. I had no choice. With no family, no job, and soon-to-be nowhere to live while being ghosted by the father of the baby I was carrying, being picky about where I got answers from wasn’t an option.
Rapping on his door twice, I stood back and waited.
God, please let Nicco be who answers and not some druggie gang person or something.
Not that God was listening to me. I was pretty sure he hated me the way my father did.
I waited two minutes before knocking again. There was a shout inside that sounded like someone called Nicco’s name. At least I knew he was in there. I was about to knock again when the door opened slowly, and a shirtless Nicco answered. His black hair was sticking up everywhere as he squinted against the sunlight. When he finally blinked and focused enough to see who it was, he stilled for a moment.
“Halo,” he said in a raspy voice.
“Good morning, Nicco. Sorry to bother you, but I have a bit of a problem, and I need your help.”