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
Hadley We should have been home two hours ago, but errands for the Etsy shop have eaten up my evening. I must have been featured on a blog, or Instagram...something, because I picked up fifteen orders last night. When stuff like this happens, I wish I could figure out why because I'd love to make it consistent each month, instead of the feast or famine. I squint against the sun setting over the river, pushing the visor down as far as I can. The low-lying rays are reflecting off the metal of the bridge, and I'm reminded why I hate to make the journey, this time of day."Mom?" Riley quietly questions from the back seat. "I'm hungry."Glancing at the clock, I see it's going on seven. Her damn bedtime is eight. How am I supposed to make this work? There are never enough hours in the day, never enough days in the week, and by the time the month is over, I wonder what the hell's happened to all the things I was going to do on my to-do list. "I know you are, I'm so sorry, sweetheart
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
TrickI bite the inside of my cheek to keep the chuckle to myself. Right now, I'm not sure Hadley can handle it, but damn if Riley isn't a fucking breath of fresh air."You are, huh?"She nods, and it looks like she wants to say more, but she's holding her tongue. Is she quiet because she's been taught not to speak her mind, or is she worried about how her mom will react? Both thoughts run parallel in my head, and I eventually tell her what I'm thinking, because no kid should have to censor themselves – at least not in my presence."Mom had errands to run, and we ran out of time," she supplies as I glance back at her."Is that right?" I'm holding back another laugh as I take in her mom.I looked at Hadley the day we met, but I'm seeing her in a whole different light now. That day, she was calm, cool, put together, and the epitome of a single mother who had all her shit straight. What I'm seeing now, isn't that persona at all. Tonight, here on the side of the road, I feel li
HadleyMy nerves are shot, completely and totally raw and jagged. I haven't been this nervous in years, probably not since the day I walked down the aisle and joined my life with another person. And we all know how that turned out. My GPS flashes the five-minute warning at me. I'm really close to Trick's shop.I haven't been paying much attention since I turned onto the maze of downtown streets, but quickly I realize I'm in a much more blue-collar neighborhood. Things are well taken care of but there's still a tarnish of age and use on them that comes with doing manual labor. Glancing down at the GPS, I check the number and commit it to memory. Buildings are so close together here it's going to be easy for me to pass it if I'm not paying attention. I'm not entirely sure if I could get back here by myself again, and pulling over to start the GPS again is a no-go for me. Slowing to a crawl, I gaze into my rearview mirror, glad no one's behind me and look for building 526. When
TrickHer face is bright red as she turns away from me, acting absolutely infatuated with the wrenches hanging on my wall. She has no fucking idea what they do, but it's so damn cute as she walks over and starts looking at the different sizes, I have to chuckle. This one is more skittish than a newborn foal, and I need to remember that. "So, do you wanna learn the basics?" I clear my throat, damned if I'm not hoarse. Verbal sparring has never affected me this way, but I do love to see her dark eyes light up. "Yup, teach me all your ways," she turns around, takes her purse off, and puts it on the workbench I have set up. I want to teach her every way I have, but I remind myself she isn't that kind of woman and this sure as hell isn't that kind of situation."All right, there's three things you absolutely need to know," I count off on my fingers. "How to check your oil and top it off, how to check your coolant and top it off, and how to change a tire.""Got it," she nods."
HadleyMy shoulders are tight and my eyes sting when I close them. My fingers curve into my palms as I resist the urge to rub them. I've been told it's the worst thing I can do, but God it feels so good. I need some of those liquid tears, or whatever, the eye doctor keeps telling me about. I'm pretty sure those things are made out of unicorn tears, though, because of how much my copay is for them. When they told me the price, I said forget it, but damn my eyes hurt. Maybe after the sale I'm having for Halloween I'll be able to afford them, but until then I'm stuck with pushing through. Story of my life for the past few years.Making the planner pages and the stickers all require me to be on the computer for a while. Add that to the time I'm on the computer at my day job and my eyes constantly hurt. Data entry is a freakin' bore, but it pays the majority of the bills right now. Maybe one day I'll be able to work from home full-time, but for right now, I'll have to remember to go
TrickEarly isn't something I strive to be for anything. It was never ingrained into me as a teenager, not even be on time for an appointment. It's a skill I learned once I'd already gotten in trouble and realized no one gave a shit if I were taught right from wrong as a child. The ones who taught me the concept of not making others wait on me was my first parole officer, the public defender who gave me the time of day, and the bosses who were willing to give me a shot, even when they probably shouldn't have.So for me to be here today, on a Saturday, fifteen minutes early for my meeting with Riley, is a feat in and of itself. It's cool this morning, the hot grip of summer is finally loosening, and I can see the trees around the local park are starting to turn. It's not quite cold enough to see your breath in the morning, but it was enough for me to put my jacket and a beanie on.Luckily, I was early enough to score a table that's been set up, not too far from the festivities. I