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She huffs out a breath. “Just go do what you feel is right. Apologize. Make amends. The rest of it will fall into place.”
I nod slowly and we sit in silence before I look over at her. “Why the hell are you covered in flour at six in the morning?”
“Why the hell aren’t you?” she counters.
I scoff. “I’m a str… strength trainer,” I lie. “I don’t have time to bake.”
“Strength trainer, stripper, it’s all the same,” she says, rolling her eyes. I don’t even ask how she knows I lied. “And for your information, little one, I’m inside baking with my grandson. His parents drop him off before they go to work and they come back and get him at the end of the day. I am awake at five each morning to make sure I have my dose of coffee before that little ball of energy shows up.”
“What do you do with all the baked goods?” I ask, feeling a soft spot for the old bag.
“We donate them,” she says instantly. “The homeless shelters mostly. Some churches. Some families in need, or families who recently lost a loved one.”
“That’s actually really nice of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” She brushes her hands together. “I’m a nice person. As long as people don’t leave baked goods in my damn mailbox.”
“Maybe they’d leave them on your porch if you wouldn’t chase them off your property,” I tease.
“Broom or not, baked goods donotbelong in a mailbox,” she says, bumping me with her shoulder. Then, she looks toward the house and I follow her gaze. A little boy is sitting in the window, holding the curtain open and looking around.
“That’s my cue,” the old woman says. She grunts as she gets to her feet. Then, she looks down at me. “Just stop fucking up. That’s all you have to do.”
She walks up the sidewalk and through the front door where I hear her greet her grandson in a tone that I’ll never ever hear from her.
She’s right though. I need to stop fucking up. And I need to start with an apology.
Or at least figure out what the hell I did to Geani.
Chapter nineteen
Come At Me, Bitch!
I’msittinginthebackseat of a cab, wearing my sweatpants that now have sidewalk dirt on the butt, and my hoodie which has tears soaked into the neckline. I look fantastic. I’m wearing the perfect get-up to go deal with my issues.
I close in on my club, knowing that it’s most likely empty, but it’s worth a shot anyway. I’m just hoping that she’s here since I don’t really know where she lives. I know her bags were here before the event, so fingers crossed she had to come back and get them before she went home.
As I’m handing the cab driver all the cash I have left in my pocket, the door to the club opens and a woman steps out.
“Gotta run, thanks,” I say to the driver as I slide out of the back seat.
Geani sees me and races toward her car.
“Oh, no the fuck you don’t,” I yell, sprinting toward her as she drops her bags in a panic.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Geani says. “You don’t work here anymore.”
“Word travels fast,” I say, out of breath.
That’s when a fist connects with the side of my face and my ears begin to ring. That bitch just hit me.
Without thinking, I swing back and connect with her nose, using my right foot to hook behind her knee and making her collapse to the ground. She screams as her head connects with the pavement below her.
I’m trying to pin her down, but she gets another hit at me, smashing me on the other side of my face and another blow to my chest.
Where did this bitch learn to fight?
“Come at me!” I yell, still trying to pin her arms down so she can’t get another swing in.
