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CHAPTER8
SEVEN YEARS
The next day, I felt sick as a dog. It was probably a combination of the alcohol from the night before and everything else going on that made my head spin and stomach churn.
Thankfully the shop wasn’t busy, and April kept the customers happy while I worked in the back, wrapping up gift orders. During the downtime, I’d sit outside in the sunshine on the wooden bench, listening to music until a customer wandered into the shop. It was slow on weekdays, which is why we desperately needed new ways to attract customers.
Truthfully, it only took one of us to run the shop during certain hours, but our boss wanted two workers on site during peak hours. We had two other girls who worked part time and rotated shifts as needed.
Charlie, our boss, frequently stopped in to see how things were going, but not so much lately. He spent a lot of his spare time reading if not telling stories about Greek mythology or the truth behind ancient Egyptian culture. It was riveting to hear his spin on things and it was too bad he never pursued a career in teaching.
Charlie wasn’t just the owner, but also the manager on call. He’d never hired anyone to fill that role because it would have meant paying out a higher salary, so I had become the designated lead. Whenever someone had a complaint and asked to speak to the manager, it was me they saw.
Luckily, we didn’t get many complaints. We sold sugar. That made most people pretty damn happy.
“You feeling okay, Alexia?” April came into the back room and sat on the bench beside me, patting my shoulder.
“Not really.”
“Want me to call Beth to come fill in for you today?”
Guilt crawled up and took a seat in my lap. I hated doing that to someone on their day off. In fact, I was notorious for taking other people’s shifts and Charlie made it a point to reprimand me for it. Not in a way that jeopardized my career in the candy field, but he didn’t want me to get burned out on work at a young age.
When my relationship with Beckett got serious, my private life had become more of a priority than work. Now that I was single again, work was starting to fill that void, and not in a good way.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” April dashed to the register, reached in one of the drawers, and returned with a slip of paper. “I got a call this morning from someone; he was trying to get a hold of you about your car. Did you advertise our work number in your ad?”
“Guilty. And don’t tell Charlie. I didn’t want my home number splashed in the paper for all to see, and I’m up here most of the time anyhow.”
April twisted her hair between her fingers. “I won’t say anything, but you could get us in trouble if someone calls when he’s up here.”
I took the paper from her hand and stared at a name and number. “What did he say?”
“To call him?” She laughed quietly. “Go see if he’s interested. I’ll cover for you if he wants to take a look at it today.”
“You’re a godsend,” I said in a miserable voice.
I sat in a very unladylike position in my white skirt, hugging my stomach, my legs spread wide. We were in a private back room with our very own vending machine and luxurious water fountain. April didn’t mind the enclosed space, but I preferred sitting on the benches outside during my breaks. She handed me her phone and I called the number.
* * *
Lorenzo(the potential buyer or hapless victim, depending on how you looked at it) didn’t converse much over the phone, but he did want to hear the specs. Manual transmission, new tires, ninety thousand miles, and semen in the back seat.
I left out the last part.
We agreed to meet at a mall I’d been to once before when I was twelve to have my ears pierced. Lorenzo stood next to a big black truck like he’d described to me. He wasn’t what I expected. He wore a pair of pale green khakis and a black tank top with writing on it. Something just didn’t feel right as I pulled into the parking space and looked at his expensive truck. But those moments are when you convince yourself that you’re overreacting and maybe he was purchasing the car for his girlfriend.
Lorenzo towered beside his sharp, heavy-duty truck with chrome wheels and tinted windows. His straight hair was as black as the truck and fell past his shoulders. He looked Native American with his tanned skin and high cheekbones.
I wiped my brow with my clammy hands, still feeling sick. When I turned off the engine, he slowly paced around the car and began appraising it. I stepped out and felt the scorch of heat from the asphalt.
“Hi, I’m Alexia Knight. You must be Lorenzo.”
“How does she run?” he asked.
“Like a dream.”
His eyes briefly darted to mine. I stepped back with my keys in hand so he could sit in the driver’s seat and check out the interior.
