Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
I found Aaron’s Mustang and tried the door, but it was locked. Fifteen minutes later, he sauntered from the house swinging his keys and whistling. He still held his cup as he unlocked the door and sat inside.
“Would you mind?” I gestured to the cup. There was no way I’d trust him or anyone to drink and drive with me as a passenger. “I’m not comfortable with youliterallydrinking and driving.”
“Oh. Shit. I forgot I still had this. Drink it for me, will you? I probably shouldn’t have anymore.” I gazed at him suspiciously as he added, “If I go back inside, it will be another fifteen minutes before I make it back out. Your curfew is at midnight, right?”
He had a good point, but I couldn’t outright ignore the alarms going off in my mind. It went against everything my parents managed to teach me before they were both stolen from me. “You didn’t spike it or anything, did you?”
“Why would I do something like that?” he asked while staring ahead. His jaw tightened as he quickly pulled away from the curb. Maybe I insulted him. Before I could apologize, he barked, “Hurry up. We can’t have this in the car.”
“Just toss it out the window.”
“It’s a college party. Cops are always nearby. I don’t want to get pulled over for littering and have them figure out it was alcohol. My dad will kill me.” Right then, we passed a cruiser waiting along the darkened part of the street. I snatched the cup and quickly downed the contents. I had to lean my head back when I felt the alcohol heat my blood and fuddle my brain.
The last thing I remember was Aaron glancing my way, sporting an accomplished grin and lust in his eyes.
Chapter Two
Promises are made to be broken.
MIAN
Eighteen Months Later
“Mian, we haveto let you go. This isn’t working out.”
I turned my face just in time to save myself from his smelly spittle. Jerry had a disgusting habit of spraying his words all over his victim’s face. The sweat sticking to my face from my two-mile run and his saliva was a deadly concoction I wanted no part of. Everyone knew to give Jerry wide berth when he was speaking to avoid being assaulted by his fishy saliva. I, however, made it my mission to kiss Jerry’s ass as much as possible. Shifts were hard to come by at the small diner.
“Mian? Did you hear me?” I was too busy holding my breath to avoid as much of his to hear anything he’d said. Seriously, how can his breath always smell like fish when he never actually ate any? According to him, he wasn’t a fan.
“Are you breaking up with me?” It was a weak shot at humor, but that was because I refused to use tears. It seemed my desperate attempt to make it to work by running two miles had proven fruitless. I pulled my white dress shirt from my sweaty skin and smiled, but it was weak.
I couldn’t lose this job.
This was my fifth job in less than six months.
“I’m sorry, Mian. You’ve only been here five weeks and have repeatedly been late or have failed to show up at all.”
“Jerry, please don’t do this. I’ll work an extra shift for free tonight, just please don’t fire me. I can’t lose this job. I have Caylen.” I was counting on tonight’s tips just to make it through another week.
“I’ve tried to be sympathetic to your situation, but it’s gotten out of hand. There are many other people who need to work as well. People who can show up for their shifts.”
He walked away, but I couldn’t let it end there. I’d beg. I had no options, and no options meant no pride. I pleaded with the manager and made every promise possible that I knew I couldn’t keep until he lost any show of sympathy and forcefully showed me, with his hand on my arm, to the door.
The sound of the restaurant door slamming behind me as I stood on the street echoed ominously around me. This waitressing gig was my only source of income, and now it was gone. I balled my fist and entertained the idea of shattering the front window. If I could afford the hospital bill after I broke my hand, I might have tried. I knew it wasn’t Jerry’s fault I lost my job. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was the world’s biggest fuck-up.
When it became clear Jerry wouldn’t offer me another chance, I started down the street. It was nearly a hundred degrees outside since we were in the middle of summer. The heat made me consider the impossible, but then a cool breeze swept by, and I decided to outrun the sun was best left to the professionals.