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I pull in a deep breath and mentally prep for the impending argument. “This arrangement isn’t working for me.”
“Oh, come on. Is this about your nephew? I overreacted, but I’m sorry.”
“It’s not working out, period. You’ll be paid half the contracted amount, and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“It was working out fine when I was sucking your cock.”
It would be true if I weren’t thinking about someone else while she did it. I don’t volunteer that information. “Now it isn’t.”
“It’s that waitress.”
“What waitress?”
“You don’t play dumb well, Aidan Hunter. I saw how she looked at you with those big dreamy eyes. And you looked at her exactly the same way. You want her, but she can’t make you look good. Think about how dumping me for common trash will go over in the press.”
“I’m ending a business arrangement. Dumping you implies you were actually my girlfriend.”
“You know what? Screw you, Aidan.”
“You already did,” I shoot back, and with that she ends the call. Remarkably, our conversation went better than I’d expected.
I make another call to Davey, who informs me Maria is off at eight. He also warns me not to hurt her or he’ll kick my ass, which I don’t doubt. Davey’s a crazy motherfucker. He did time for manslaughter after he caught some guy assaulting his girlfriend, which is how he ended up a raging alcoholic. Needless to say, he’s not a guy I want to piss off.
After I shower and change, I drive to the restaurant and wait out front for Maria to come outside.
At eight, I remove my apron, clock out and gather my things. I’m exhausted, as another waitress called out sick tonight, and I had to pick up the slack. All I want to do is shower and remove the smell of food from my skin, and then crawl in bed and sleep until noon tomorrow.
“You heading out?” Davey asks.
“Yep. Please tell me you have interviews tomorrow.”
“Five tomorrow and five the next day,” he says, wiggling five fingers in the air.
“I’m off tomorrow, but no bimbos, right?”
His deep laugh makes me smile. “None. I promise.”
“Thank, God. I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”
The warm Santa Ana wind caresses my skin when I step outside. I turn down the street where my car is parked and see Tug walking across the street toward me.
“Wait up,” he calls out.
I stop, and my stomach performs somersaults, my palms sweat, and worse, my heart aches.
“Davey’s inside,” I tell him and continue walking.
His soft smile is adorable. I should run. “I’m not here for Davey.”
“Oh.”
“I was hoping we could talk. I’d like to start over with you. Maybe we can be friends.”
He used a similar line before, and I foolishly fell for it.
“I can’t stay. I have to pick up Javier from the sitter and get to bed. He has school tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you,” he offers, his voice shaky. Is he nervous?
