AllFreeNovel
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His dull eyes stared at her, they dropped down and looked at her body, then smoothed back up. She tried not to cringe but didn't think she was successful.
"Don't like what you see, Princess?"
She chose not to respond. One thing she wasn't good at was lying. God how many times did Lara tell her that? While that had always been a badge of honor to her, right now a little lying expertise could come in handy.
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth. His fingers were stained brownish-yellow. A cloud of smoke filtered from his mouth as he blew it out, inhaled with his nose, and blew it out again. She'd always been fascinated when her grandpa did this. Now, it was gross.
"Where's the Fenty? Dumbass out there said he tore your place up and couldn't find it."
She blanched when he mentioned her place. They'd torn up the boutique! Her life's blood was in that shop. Her entire adult life had been in making a go of the boutique. She sniffed. "The only Fenty I have is a dress. The designer is Fenty Samuel. It's a big deal because he stopped designing a few years ago and he's finally back. This year his signature piece was a teal, sequined tea-length dress. It's a stunner too. It's..."
He held his hand up. "Stop." He tamped out the cigarette in the ashtray. "For Chrissake who fucking cares about a dress?"
"You asked about the Fenty. That's what I have. Look it up."
"Look it up?"
"Yeah. On the internet. Look it up. Fenty Samuel."
Boss Man's eyes slid to smelly man, and he pulled a phone from his pants pocket and tapped out, she assumed, Fenty Samuel.
He scoffed and turned his phone to Boss Man. "He's a freak."
She glanced at his phone and saw that Fenty Samuel had died his hair four different colors, and he wore bright teal eye shadow. Clever to match his signature dress this year.
Boss Man leaned back into the sofa and stared at her. "No drugs?"
"No. I don't sell drugs."
His brows rose into his dirty hair.
She continued. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I sell dresses." She swallowed. "Oh, and skirts and I have some cute tops too. And slacks. I just got in a cute collection..."
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
She pressed her lips tightly together and waited for him to say something else. Maybe something not so rude.
He rotated his head around. She heard a pop and flinched. Then he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I don't suppose you ever had any drugs?"
"No."
"I've looked at many of your videos. You mentioned a few other things last year. Candy in varying sizes."
"Oh, Candy Smith. She's a designer that specializes in leggings. These are Candy Smiths that I have on. They have a nice sheen and wash well, and I..."
"Shut. It. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
She let out a breath. He could be nicer. "I'm nervous."
He took a deep breath. "Pearl?"
"Pearl Sczmanski. She's a designer too."
He stared at her for a while. She said nothing else. His brows rose into his dirty hair and he held his hand out. "Aren't you going to go on and on about Pearl whatever?"
"No, your rude comments have made me believe you aren't interested."
