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“He was earlier but I think he left.” Ziggy starts into the kitchen but pivots around and frowns. “You’re not here because Sabrina called in, are you? Because Brooke said she could handle it.”
I groan. “No, I just wanted to check the schedule since Dad didn’t pick up when I called.” Stuffing my phone into my purse, I sigh. “She’s not coming in again?”
He shakes his head. “She has an appointment with her divorce attorney. Think she’s screwing him?”
“I don’t care if she’s screwing him, just so she’s not screwing us.” Over the last several weeks, Sabrina’s called in more times than she’s made it to work, but my father hasn’t had much to say to her about it. I guess his mind has been preoccupied with the douche in the immaculate office suite. As soon as I picture Jackson again, my mouth goes dry and my panties—my panties are going to need their own Slippery When Wet sign if I don’t get myself in check.
Shifting uncomfortably, I clear my throat. “Did my dad call anyone to fill in for her?”
“No, but—” Ziggy pauses as I reach around him to snatch my apron from the rack. “What the hell are you doing, Flick?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I grab my timecard from the slot by the schedule board. “I’m clocking in.”
“You were here until eight last night.”
Securing the strings around my waist, I lift my shoulders. “I have nothing else to do,” I lie. I’d planned on spending the day visiting every bank in Chicago for a loan. “Brooke shouldn’t have to handle the shift on her own. I’m working.”
“Your dad’s not going to like it. He says you’re here too much.”
“Good thing he’s not here.” Bumping Ziggy’s shoulder lightly with my fist, I force a grin. “But if he bitches about it, I’ll tell him it was your idea.”
When Dad finally makes his way into the restaurant a few hours later, we’re in the middle of lunch and I’m behind the counter printing a receipt. He doesn’t give me the third degree like Ziggy predicted. Instead, he dips his head, the defeat from yesterday twice as prominent. Before he reaches the counter, I pour him a Coke, leaving it on a placemat spot near the register.
“What happened now?” I ask just loud enough for him to hear.
Sighing, he scoots onto the barstool. “I’ve been out at banks. It’s not going to happen. My personal credit’s not good enough and I don’t have collateral. Like I told you, I’m fucked.”
When one of our regular customers three stools down swivels around to cast a curious look at us, I lean close to Dad. “Do you think they’d consider my credit?” Other than my student loans, I’ve had one credit card and my car loan that I paid off.
“It wouldn’t work.”
“You don’t know that.” And suddenly, Jackson’s voice is back in my thoughts. Taunting and commanding. Promising to fuck me better than any man before him in exchange for another extension. If he only knew just how many men have touched me, he would have choked on his words. “Look, Dad, I—” My phone vibrates in my apron pocket, and I pause. Holding up a finger, I grab my phone, frowning at the Unknown Caller.
“Everything okay?”
I hover my finger over the ignore button but then think better of it. It could be Jackson telling me he reconsidered my request. “Do you mind watching the register for a few minutes? I need to take this.”
Dad says that he will, so I accept the call, hurrying from behind the counter and out the front door as I answer. I pray the voice that greets me is the same that sent ripples down my spine, but it belongs to a woman. Slightly accented. Disappointing.
“Yes, this is Nadia with Green Light Group. I’m trying to reach a Miss—” She pauses, and I hear fingers dancing across computer keys, “Miss Felicity York.”
My eyebrows shoot straight up. “Yes, this is Felicity.”
“Ah, perfect. Let me be the first to offer my congratulations on the success of your listing. You haven’t been live a full day and already you’re trending.”
“Wait, what?” Thanks to the Versa’s lack of cooperation, I hadn’t had time to check the status of my eBay auctions this morning. Of course, I didn’t see the point because I never thought a few bags of old H&M and Express clothes would amount to a success. “My clothes are trending?”
Nadia laughs, instantly making me feel like a child with a cutesy lisp. I scowl. “I see you must be in a public place, Miss York. Perhaps I should—”
“No, I’m alone. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m calling in regards to your auction on V-Bay,” she chirps, and the blood drains from my face. My auction. On V-Bay. “I just wanted to make sure you’ve been in touch with your physician about the…”
