Текст книги "Under Locke"

Автор книги: Mariana Zapata

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

He was my little brother. The boy I'd cared for like he was mine, before and after our mom had died. He was the reason why I learned what working a double was, the reason why I'd worked two jobs even while I was sick, and the reason for so many other things I learned.

A lot of times I felt like I was alive just for him. And then he'd joined the Army and left me in Florida. I mean, he was happy and that's what mattered but it still didn't fix the fact that I missed him.

That was life, wasn't it? Losing and regaining?

By mid-afternoon, I started to get cabin fever and walked out of the house to see if there was anything to do outside. There was. Sonny had weeds coming out every square inch around his bushes and lawn. Under normal circumstances, I probably would have pretended like there was nothing to do, but that’s just how bored I was and how badly I wanted my mind on other things.

I found a pair of thick gloves in Sonny’s garage that were way too big, pulled a long sleeve shirt on to avoid getting burned and went to work.

An hour and a half later, when my back was aching and I felt a warm tingle on my neck that screamed sunburn, I stuffed all the weeds into a trash bag and stood in the middle of the lawn, exhausted. The loud purr of multiple motorcycles echoed through the neighborhood. It being after work hours, a lot of people had pulled into their homes so I wasn’t really planning to go out of my way to look and see where the bikes were coming from. It was second nature. A bike was a bike, wasn't it?

In the middle of hoisting a bag over my head to throw into the trash, two bikers with buzz cuts and hard glares drove by slowly. Their eyes were on me and the house. They didn’t stop, but as soon as they’d crossed the driveway, they picked up speed and zoomed out of the neighborhood.

Weird.

~ * ~ *

The worst part of going to work on Tuesday was not knowing how to act around Dex. It shouldn’t surprise me that he was hanging out with Sonny if they were in the same club, but still. Sonny was warm and sweet—though he had been specific and said it was only to me—while Dex was a temperamental bag of beaver dung. Maybe it was that whole “opposites attract” thing they had going on.

Maybe.

Luckily, it was Blake that came in and opened, leaving me to wonder where The Dick was. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Blake or anyone, but I let myself think about it in my head. It was like mentally preparing myself for an incoming hurricane.

Business was pretty steady right from doors opening when Slim showed up. There was tattoo after tattoo for the first couple of hours, then a nipple piercing—which made my own nipples hurt—and a guy who wanted an eyebrow pierced. It was closer to eight at night when Dex finally showed up, looking mildly annoyed as usual, and striding directly to the back without a wave or a nod to anyone.

Once again, no one said anything. Blake and Slim didn’t even look at each other. I didn’t understand that at all because I was annoyed when he walked in.

In hindsight, I should have just gone to the back and lived with a tongue lashing from Dex for simply living so that I could order supplies for the month instead of staying in the front, talking to a customer’s girlfriend about getting her nose pierced. But I didn’t. In my quest to keep being a bitch because my feelings had been hurt, I stayed up front.

Mistake? Uh, yeah.

~ * ~ *

“Sweetie.”

I looked over at the man standing in front of the reception desk. A man with a full beard and glassy, red-rimmed eyes, who smelled like rubbing alcohol. It was disgusting and it made my nose burn.

But this was my job and everyone had been nice up until then, so I didn’t think anything of it. “Yes?”

“Need to get a tat.”

I gave him a little smile without looking at the appointment log. Even if both Slim and Blake weren't busy and Dex had come out from the back, he still couldn't get tattooed. Whoops. "I'm sorry, but we can't help you if you've been drinking.”

“Sweetie, I need a tat. Now,” the guy slurred, smacking his lips so roughly spittle flew out.

Gross. The smell of alcohol got even stronger. Yuck.

I cringed a little. “I'm sorry but we really can't—,” I tried to explain to him.

Alcohol Cologne grunted. “Get Dex.”

“Dex isn’t scheduled right now.”

“Sweetie, get Dex.”

Oh boy.

I took a deep breath and nodded, pushing away from my chair. “Let me see if I can get him.” Years of mottos that highlighted “The customer is always right” was engraved into me. The music was so loud it wasn’t a surprise that Blake and Slim didn’t hear what was going on. They blasted it. Metal and heavy rock pounded through the speakers most nights after seven.

The office door was closed when I came up to it, but I couldn’t hear anything from inside. I knocked a couple of times but there was no response. The light from the bathroom was on, and I wasn’t about to go bother a man when he was on the toilet regardless of whether it was my asshole boss or not. Toilet time was personal time, I thought.

“Dex isn’t available right now,” I started to tell the guy who, with another look over confirmed that he was blitzed out of his mind. “But if you wait a few minutes, I’ll try to get him to talk—“

He snapped.

I wasn’t a drinker, and the couple of friends I’d had in passing weren’t much either. They were occasional drunks. Funny drunks. Silly drunks. Loving drunks. I was okay with that. But a mean drunk was something I couldn’t handle at all.

“Look, bitch, I don’t have time! Get fucking Dex right now before I—“

The arm swiped at my waist from out of nowhere. Way too distracted, I realized it was Dex who had an arm wrapped around me, pulling me to his side. His fingers clenched the material of my cardigan.

I couldn’t see his face but I didn’t need to.

Dex The Dick was pissed. Enraged. I half expected him to shed his clothes and turn into a green skinned monster ten times his current—already tall and broad—size.

His wide shoulders were tense and the big man, well over six feet tall, seemed even more intimidating then. I think everyone could sense that unsettling dangerous mist of pissed off biker in their bones.

“Rick,” was the only thing he grunted out.

Alcohol Cologne sensed that raw, crazy energy too because he took a step back. His face, as red as a lobster’s cooked shell when he’d been yelling, blanched.

“I was looking for you, bro,” the man exhaled.

Dex pinched my cardigan between his fingers. “Get out.”

“Dex—“

His shoulders stiffened beneath the bright white t-shirt he had on. “Rick. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“But—“

His hand squeezed my shirt so tightly it made me lean forward as he yelled, “Get the fuck out! Now!”

Holy shit.

Rick took on a shade of white formerly only seen on a sheet of college ruled paper, throwing up both his hands. “Dex—“

Dex let go of my sweater taking a step toward the drunken fart. “You know damn well you don’t come into my shop demandin' shit, callin' my girl a bitch.”

In the words of a rap song my neighbor used to play on his boombox when I was a kid: Hold up, wait a minute.

He closed the distance between them, making me ignore the fact he'd just called me his girl. I swear Dex grew three inches taller as he lifted his hands and pressed them to the drunk guy’s chest. “Get the fuck out before I do something you’re gonna regret,” Dex notified him, shoving the man back so hard I’m surprised he didn’t hit the glass.

The guy stumbled, righting himself slowly after one last withered plea. “Dex.”

All he got in return was silence. Heavy, electric silence.

Rick opened his mouth to say something else before thinking twice and turning around to walk out. As soon as the door swung shut, it was like a rubber band of intensity snapped in the room. My heart was pounding from the sheer volume of the words that were tossed around.

I was so stuck in my own little world that I didn’t sense Dex’s presence inches away from me until his fingertips were on my chin, tilting my face up.

“You okay?” he whispered, so close I could feel his warm breath on my nose.

My hands shook. I swallowed hard and nodded a partial lie. “Yeah.”

Dex’s gaze flickered over my eyes, nose, mouth, and even throat. His expression was soft. He reached up to circle one of my free hands in his, his features tightening as my fingers trembled in his palm. “Your pulse is poundin', babe.”

“I’m fine.” Being freaked out fell into the same category as being fine. As long as I hadn't peed on myself, then I could still be fine.

He didn’t speak as he pulled on the hand he was then holding, leading me toward the hallway. In a daze, I noticed that Blake and Slim looked worried as I passed by them, and I tried my best to give them a smile but it was shaky. It felt like I'd just gotten off a roller coaster.

Dex shook his head on the walk passed his office, passed the private rooms, clasping my hand even tighter as he pulled us into the break room.

“Come here, Ritz,” he ordered, stopping us right next to the kitchen counter. Before I realized what was happening, his hands were on my hips and he was settling me on top of the counter. Dex’s palms grazed my knees as he stepped back to the soda vending machine in the corner. “Wait a sec.”

Like I could go anywhere, but I sat there silently, sliding my hands under my thighs so that I wouldn’t feel them twitching anymore. He pulled out a bill from his wallet and put the money into the machine, getting a Coke in return. Holding it in one hand, he moved to the opposite end of the long counter and started fishing through the overhead cabinets. He pulled out a loaf of bread, withdrawing two slices before retying the knot and stashing it back into its hiding spot.

I wasn’t sure what the heck was going on. I couldn’t help watching him tenderly hold the slices in one hand and the Coke can in the other as he walked toward me, stopping so close his hip brushed against the side of my thigh.

“Here.” Dex tried to hand me one of the slices, setting the soda down between us.

“What?” I was looking at the seeds in the bread.

“Eat it, babe.” He held the piece of bread up higher.

I shook my head, darting my eyes back up to his. “I’m not hungry.”

Dex lifted the slice even higher so that it was in line with my mouth. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. It’ll calm you down.”

The urge to argue with him was right there but by the look he gave me, a hard, uncompromising glare, I figured it was useless. That wasn’t the right moment to pick a fight with him. I plucked the bread from his hand and ate it slowly, watching him out of the corner of my eye the entire time. As soon as I finished, he was handing me the second slice. I gave him another look but got the same no-nonsense glare in return.

So I ate it because otherwise, he'd probably shove it down my throat by force.

He watched until I had about a quarter of it left, when he then popped the lid on the soda and handed it to me the minute I swallowed the last bite of nutty bread.

“I should've kicked his fuckin' ass for talkin' to you like that,” he murmured when I was taking my first sip of Coke.

It was a miracle I didn’t cough it up. Hadn't he talked to me like I was stupid at least three times before this moment? I know that I must have had a what-the-hell face plastered because the expression on his face darkened.

All right, maybe I wouldn't point out how much of a hypocrite he was.

Even if Sonny had said he was harmless, that didn't mean his words were anything that resembled soft and caring. He was probably just dealing with me out of guilt. Whatever.

“It’s okay,” I warbled out.

“No, it’s not.” He ducked his head close, eyes searching mine again. “He scare you?”

I sucked in a ragged breath, sensing for the first time that my heart wasn’t pounding as forcefully as it had been at first. “He caught me off guard,” I breathed out. Two men making me feel like a piece of crap in less than a week must have been a world record.

Dex tensed up before shifting his body over so that he stood in front of me, placing his hands on either side of my legs. He stayed quiet for the longest, his eyes flashing a multitude of emotions I couldn’t recognize under a tightly controlled mask. For a split second I wished I would have known him better to understand what was going through his brain, but as quickly as the urge came, it left.

Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth consciously the entire time until he scratched the tip of his nose. “It won’t happen again.”

There was no way he could promise that to me. No way. But that magnetic, hot violence was still rolling off his shoulders and chest, caging me in even more so than his upper body physically was.

“I’ll talk to Rick, have him apologize, babe. I don’t need you bein’ scared. He’s a lousy drunk.”

I gave him a slow one-shouldered shrug, looking away. His breathing was noisy as I thought about how nice he’d just been, standing in front of me when his friend started yelling, trying to get me to calm down. But I didn’t get it. Just days ago, he was losing his flipping mind. Last week he’d been trying to kick me out. I didn’t get it and it made me feel uncomfortable and confused.

“I’m okay now,” I whispered.

He didn’t move or say anything.

I shifted forward on the counter, wiggling my bottom so that it was teetering over the edge but Dex was too close, and I couldn’t hop off completely without pressing myself fully against him. “I want to get down now.”

Of course he didn’t move. “Sit a little longer.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, fighting the urge to look up at his face.

One of his hands slid onto my knee. Even over the thick material of my brown pants, it was searing hot. Or at least it was like my blood flow had redirected itself to that one point under my skin. Damn you, traitorous body. “Iris, why won’t you look at me?”

Oh hell.

His voice took on that milky, smooth, deep tone that made me feel like a book of matches had been lit inside my gut, and the way he said my name… Ef. Me. I didn’t even think he knew my name. He hadn’t used it once the entire time I’d been working at Pins.

“I just want to get down,” I told him, glancing down at his hand.

Dex squeezed my thigh. “You can get down after you tell me why you still won’t look me in the face.”

I insisted. “Please.”

“No.”

“I want to get down.”

He squeezed me again. “No.”

“Let me down.”

“No.”

Oh shit. Annoyed as hell, I tilted my head up at him. “One minute you're kind of a fucking jerk—," did I just drop the f-bomb again? Why, yes, yes, I had. "Then the next minute you’re carrying me to my room and sharing your secret stash of bread with me. It doesn't make sense,” I said honestly. "I don't want to look at you because you hurt my feelings, okay? I don't know what to think."

And he just blinked. “That it?”

My head dropped back so I could look at the ceiling. Was this guy for real?

“Ritz, c’mon. That’s why you won’t look at me? 'Cause I talk outta my ass?” The questions were so casual it was like he was asking whether I wanted ranch dressing on my salad or Italian. So annoying.

“That's not enough?" I might have wailed my words a little.

This asshole started chuckling. “Don’t get so pissed.” The pads of his fingers brushed a line from my thigh down to my knee in an intimate, delicate gesture that was at odds with the man I’d met a week ago. “I told you it was a mistake. How many more times do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

I gave him a flat look which he returned to me with round, curious eyes. “I know. But you called me an idiot all because I asked you for help on my second day. Who does that?" The truth was, maybe I was an idiot. Because a smart person would have shut their mouth and accepted the forced apology, but there I was, my mouth still running. “The last time anyone called me a fucking-something was three years ago when I bought the last television on sale at Walmart on Black Friday for my little brother. But you know what? I didn’t care then.” The but I care now was implied in spades.

Dex’s thick lashes fluttered closed as he let out a whoosh of air from his lungs. He looked pained. Dex didn’t seem like the type of man who was used to apologizing to anyone. The expression seemed so rough and foreign coming from him, it was like trying to shove a square shaped object through a round hole. “Babe, I’m sorry.” Those pretty blue eyes opened, focusing on mine. “I just...say shit."

"You just say shit?" I repeated.

Oh boy.

I blinked in his features. His long, dark eyelashes, deep set eyes, magnificent square jaw, that nearly perfect nose—Dex The Dick was unbelievably handsome. And I was making him feel like shit for not forgiving him when it truly seemed like he was remorseful. In what might be the first time in his life with the way he expressed it.

"Yeah." It was a statement, a fact. "You're MC, you gotta have thicker skin than that to survive here, you hear me?"

God, grant me strength.

"My dad was a Widow. Sonny's a Widow. I'm not," I explained to him calmly. "I can't just grow a thick skin overnight."

It was his turn to blink. "Yeah, you can." He blinked again. "Who gives a fuck what I say? Tell me if you got a problem. Don't run off and tell Son that I'm treatin' you like shit, and hide your fuckin' face from me because you're hurt over me bein' a dumbass. Tell me. Maybe you don't have a thick skin but I do. I can take it."

Like it was that easy.

I sighed and closed both of my eyes, annoyed with myself for having kept the job when I didn't really want to, all because of circumstances. Circumstances that, as always, revolved around money. Crap.

I sighed again.

Wasn't it easy to just be nice out of the kindness of his heart instead of bullied into it?

I almost laughed. Like Dex could be bullied into something. I'd known him a few days and I already knew he was immovable.

"Don't get all emo on my ass." He nudged my knee with his hip. "Tell me you got a problem."

I couldn't. I just couldn't.

The risk of losing this friggin' job that I wasn't even that fond of yet was too high. If he got pissed off about me asking for help, how pissed would he be if I told him to quit being a dick? Despite the fact that my brother had told me to do the same thing Dex was implying...I wasn’t positive that I really had it in me.

“Babe, I’m not gonna have an issue tellin’ somebody that they’re pissin’ me off,” he stated.

No shit.

He nudged my knee with his hip again. “Say it.”

“Say what?” I asked slowly.

“Say what you’re thinkin’,” Dex explained.

I shook my head.

His eyebrows knit together in exasperated patience. “Call me a dick. An asshole. A shit. Whatever you want, just get it out, Ritz.”

The look on my face was probably half horrified, half nervous that he’d said the one nickname I usually called him in my head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s rude.”

It was Dex’s turn to blink slowly. “There’s a difference between sayin’ it out loud and sayin’ it in your head?”

Damn it. He had a point.

But before we could go any further, someone in the front yelled Dex’s name loud enough that it was heard through the music playing. With a low grunt, he shifted so that his hip contact turned into the long length of his thigh pressing into my knee and shin. “I’ll try not to take my shit out on you again but if I do, say somethin’. I’m not gonna bite your head off for bein’ honest with me, all right?”

I gave him a dubious look because seriously? Did he really expect me to think he’d take me calling him an ugly name well? Oh please. But okay, whatever made him sleep better at night.

I was tired of being so angry. I could try to be a bigger person and wash my hands of this. It would be impossible to say that Dex wasn’t trying to fix this muck in his own brutal way. He deserved points for effort.

Okay, not really but still. Move past it. Forget it.

“Look, I’m gonna hope you forget what I said or forgive me sooner than later because I’m not a fan of this shit right now. I’m sorry and that’s the damn truth. But I want you to open that little mouth and say whatever’s botherin’ you from now on, all right?”

I didn’t say anything in response because I didn’t think he needed an answer.

He kept looking at me with those high intensity eyes until I realized he did want a confirmation. “Okay.”

Dex ducked his head in to catch my eyes more fully.

This guy. God. I raised my voice and repeated myself. “Fine, I’ll say something from now on.”

With a single pat to my knee, he was gone a moment later.

And I sat there wondering what the hell had just happened.

Chapter Nine

The days seemed to pass by in a blur of work, Sonny, his home, getting paid, and my new favorite place—the Austin Public Library branch right by the shop. I registered for my card before work one day, since I figured that with my starving bank account I wouldn’t be able to afford buying any books in the near future.  And to be honest, once I got my card and settled into my routine, it was good—comfortable. I'd even applied for a couple of full-time jobs and that made me excited.

Hell, everything was pretty nice. Including the tension at work.

Dex had been in and out of the shop and when he was in, he was just kind of aloof unless he had to make deposits at the bank during the day.

Even though I’d pretty much—but not completely—gotten over our initial meeting disaster, I still didn’t feel completely comfortable around him. The tension between us had gone from strained to…weird after the incident with the drunk guy. The same drunk guy who came in sober and holding a daisy the day afterward, apologizing for calling me a bitch.  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the The Dick had been behind the visit. With the exception of Dex’s bad moment, I usually didn’t hold grudges because they weren’t worth the effort and I let Rick off the hook.

Work was easy but it seemed even easier when Dex wasn’t within thirty feet. I managed to read my books in peace during my lunch break and got to know my coworkers when there was downtime. I couldn't really ask for much more.

So it was completely unexpected on Friday afternoon to be sitting in the back during my break, reading the book I’d picked up the day before, and hear, “What are you readin’?” coming from the doorway.

I looked up to see Dex standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, black hair going in a million different directions without his ball cap on. My eyes went from the text below me and back to him a couple of times before I answered vaguely. “A book from the library.” It was a historical romance novel, so I’d rather tell him that in detail in oh, a million years.

Right then, in that moment, Dex The Dick grinned. Grinned. And sweet mother of God, it was devastating. So completely catastrophic I just stood there and absorbed the nuclear bomb going off in front of me, defenseless.

His eyes glittered at the same time his eyebrows shot up. “The library?”

I liked the way he drew out the pronunciation, so I nodded.

“The public library?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,” I drew out the consonant.

His lips quirked on the corners. “They still have those?”

“They still have those,” I confirmed, glancing back down at my book, shutting it carefully after memorizing the page number. I swallowed hard and reminded myself to let my old resentment finish trickling away. Dex was obviously trying, so I could too.

“And you go to libraries?” he asked just as slow as he had a moment before.

Was he antagonizing me? I didn't think so. The up-tilt of his lips made it seem like he was more entertained and curious than just simply being a cruel jerk.

I held up the back cover of the novel I’d just been reading since there wasn’t a picture on it. “I like free stuff.”

Dex grinned wide again.

Holy crap. Those were rare.

“Babe, I can’t even remember the last time I read a book that wasn’t for school, much less the last time I went into a library without my ma forcin' me,” he admitted.

For some reason, the image of a Baby Dex with super blue eyes and crazy black hair pitching a fit as he was carried into the library by his mom, flashed through my head and it made me snort. That was probably the last time someone had forced him to do anything.

“Maybe you should go to the library then,” I told him. “They have all kinds of stuff you can check out.” Something nudged at me right then. It was the indulgent smile he gave me when I first told him about where I'd gotten the novel. Smart ass. I smiled slowly, feeling that familiar verbal geyser of crap ready to sprout out of my mouth and unable to control it. “Like picture books if the ones with words don’t work for you.”

Silence.

And then Dex tilted his head back and laughed so loud it made me smile even though I didn’t think he would appreciate it. To be honest, I was surprised that the tease came out of my mouth. Unintentional and all, but still, it was like tap dancing on ice with him.  How thin was the ice? I’d never know. “All right, I probably deserved that, Ritz.”

Score one for Team Iris. If I could high-fived myself without looking crazy, I would have .

But luckily for both Dex and I, he started speaking again. “Come up front. We’re pullin' straws.”

“For what?” I asked him carefully. The last thing I needed or wanted was to pull straws to see who had to clean a backed up toilet.

He waved me forward, waiting until I was off my chair and at his side before explaining. “I didn't tell you about the conventions we go to?”

Pssh. I could have pointed out that he didn't really tell me anything period but I kept the comment to myself. “Nope,” I replied.

Dex shrugged like the absence of information wasn’t a big deal. “We hit up tattoo expos a couple times a year, and the next one is two weeks away in Houston.” He shot me a look as we walked down the hall toward the empty reception area. “We’re pullin’ straws to see who’s goin’ this time.”

That didn’t exactly sound like a bad thing. “But I just work the front desk,” I told him like he didn’t already know that.

Slim, who had wheeled his chair to sit in the middle of the shop like usual, was being nosey—also as usual—and listening in on our conversation. “Consider it a learning experience,” he claimed. “We always need help doing other stuff anyway.”

I thought about it for a second, and then shrugged. It’s not like I had anything else to do and if it was technically a part of my job, a job that I might not have for too much longer, then it'd be fine. “All right then.”

Dex took a handful of straws out of his pocket, covering them with his hand as he arranged, and then presented them to me. “Ladies first.”

I couldn’t help but glance up at his dark blue eyes for a split second before I pulled a straw right in the middle of the four. Dex went ahead and held out the collection to Blue next before letting Blake and Slim grab the last pieces.

“Wait a sec, you okay sharin’ a room?”

“Sharing a room with you guys?” I repeated the question right back to him, to make sure I understood correctly.

“Yeah, sharin’ a room. You okay with that?” he asked.

I looked over at the three men I worked with slowly. “No one’s going to tattoo a peen on my forehead when I’m sleeping, right?”

They all looked at me straight for a minute before starting to laugh, even Blue, who only laughed at me when I said something exceptionally stupid.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I shot Slim a nasty look. “In that case, no, I don’t care.” Though I’d prefer it not be Dex, I wasn’t going to say that out loud. “As long as you don’t do gross stuff in the shower, I’m fine.”

Slim snorted. “Blake, that’s all you man.”

“I told you I didn’t do it,” he retorted, his face reddening as the words flew out of his mouth.

“Right. You didn’t do it when you were the only one who took a shower that morning—“

Dex cleared his throat, biting back a smile. “Okay, okay, let’s see who the hell is goin’ before we argue over who jacked off in Seattle.”

That was my cue to laugh. By myself. Awkward!

After comparing straws, it looked like Blue and I were the losers with the short ones. Based on the looks we shot each other—she wasn’t much of a talker and I liked to make facial expressions that she seemed to understand—neither one of us was too heartbroken.

“Feel free to do whatever the heck you want to do in the shower since I’m not going,” I blurted out, already taking a step back to head into the kitchen. My book and lunch were calling my name.

Blake’s eyes cut over to Slim’s accusingly. “I didn’t fucking do it, man!”

Right.

~ * ~ *

"Someone left a voicemail for you, kid," Sonny noted, his gaze locked on the epic gun battle going on in the television screen.

I'd just come in from work, dropping my purse onto the couch that I'd rightfully claimed over the course of the last month and let myself get excited for a brief moment. "Who?"

He made a humming noise in his throat. "Umm, someone named Gladys or something from a place with a stupid name. There were a bunch of Rugrats screaming in the background."

It had to be one of the daycare centers I'd applied to.

"Yes!"

Two minutes later, I'd written down Gladys Ortega's phone number and high-fived Sonny for finally getting a callback.

"I don't get why you're so excited. The idea of working with a bunch of kids sounds like hell," he murmured.

The last time I'd worked at a daycare center, I'd been twenty and fresh out of radiation therapy. At that point, nothing could have brought me down. But now that I really thought about it...crap. I liked kids but did I like them that much? The better question was, did I dislike Dex enough to sacrifice one moody devil for a bunch of innocent demons?

The answer didn’t come as easily as I would have expected.

"I can just see what they have to offer."

He shrugged and it made me narrow my eyes.

I didn't understand what was going on with him, but every time I asked, he always answered the same way.

He was fine. Always fine.

And he was completely full of shit.

"What's wrong with you?"

For the last two days, Sonny had been acting really erratic. One of the most laid-back people I'd ever met in my life, he wasn't the type to sit back and let things bother him. He was an advocate of either ignoring things or dealing with them head on. Preferably with his fists it seemed, when he came home two nights ago with a busted lip and refused to tell me what happened.