Trick

Trick"How is this one going to be different than the rest?"I kick my long legs out in front of me, trying not to make too much noise as the steel-toes of my boots meet the metal of the desk in front of me. Regardless of what other people think about me, I would prefer to blend into the background. I don't really want to make a spectacle of myself. I've been told the way I carry myself doesn't allow me to blend into the background, but I am who I am and I refuse to let people screw me around.Matthew, my probation officer, God bless his soul is flipping through some paperwork trying to find me a match. I think he wants to keep me out of jail as much I don't want to go back there. "They swear this woman isn't interested in finding a man, and it seems the little girl needs someone who can help her. The name's Riley.""What's wrong with her?" I lean forward, keeping my arms tucked tightly across my chest, hands in my armpits. As a kid, I had a bad habit of talking with my hands.

TrickI run my hand through my hair, trying to tame it. The top seriously needs a cut, and I know I look like I just rolled out of bed. They probably think I tied one on and left a woman asleep on my pillow. Fuck. As I bring my hand down, I see smudges of grease still in the corners of my fingernails. So much for making a great first impression."Any tips you want to give me?" I look over at the mom, hoping she responds to my question. I've always liked kids, but haven't really been around them before. She shakes her head, her blonde hair falling in her face. "Sorry, I can't make this easier on you. It's her you've got to impress, not me."So it's like that? I admit to myself I would have judged her had she not been such a mama bear to her daughter. "I can respect that."The pointed look directed my way lets me know I better respect it.The door to the room opens and I turn around. There are moments in your life no one can prepare you for. Snippets of time that make or bre

Hadley"What do you wanna wear today?" I take a huge drink of the iced coffee I made myself first thing this morning. Some mornings I need the jolt of caffeine worse than others; and today I really need it."My pink shoes," she claps her hands.I can't help the smile spreading across my face. We got those pink Converse at Goodwill brand new with tags, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to afford them at the time. It was before I realized I had a gift for what I've turned into my side business. When there had been no extra money for anything, I figured out how creative and motivated I am."Pink shoes we got," I hold them up. "But what else?"She thinks for a moment, her expression pensive. "Jeans like yours."I look down seeing my jeans with the hole in the knee. I guess I should thank my lucky stars that deconstructed jeans are now a thing. These are just so old they're falling apart, but everyone thinks I spent a hundred bucks on them. "Okay girlfriend, go grab them,"

Trick"G," I sigh, running a hand over my unshaven face. "I've worked with you more than any other motherfucker who brought their bike in here to me without the money to pay for the work I did. I've cut you deal after deal." He rolls his eyes at me. Rolls his eyes. This little shit standing in front of me is about to feel the wrath of my anger. If it wasn't for his mom, he would have felt the wrath two weeks ago when I started working on his damn bike. He's wearing his hat to the side in a way that irritates the fuck out of me. He has tattoos on his arms and those piss me off, too. They're typical, they don't mean anything to him. I found this out when I asked what the Chinese symbol on his arm meant. He had no fuckin' clue…said he'd just picked it off the wall. That's the kind of person I'm dealing with here. "Dude," he starts."First of all, I'm not your dude," I rise to my full height, squaring my shoulders. I see he's mistaken my kindness for weakness. I'll make sure h

HadleyPushing the button to roll the window down, I try not to weep as I realize who's stopped to help us. At least it's not a stranger – not that we know Patrick any better than one – but it's a familiar face. My hands shake as I brace them against the steering wheel, trying to calm my galloping heart. If I still had those Xanax I used to take when the careful life I'd planned for myself had spiraled out of control, I'd pop one of those things in a fucking nanosecond right now."Hey," I fake a bravado I don't have. I'm two seconds away from crumbling into a sobbing ball of mush. Everything inside of me wishes stuff like this doesn't bother me, that I'm able to take care of incidentals like this on my own. The truth is I can't, and I don't know I'll ever be able to. But for the last two years there's been no one for me to lean on or ask for help. The fact he's here right now, means way more to me than it should."You okay?" he asks, taking his glasses off his face. His hazel eye