Page 12 of Crazy Thing

But I know better than to fall for this man’s empty words.I narrow my gaze. “Your little speech is very heartwarming. Unfortunately, experience has taught me that Darius Brighton only cares about Darius Brighton.”

He releases a mighty sigh and he’s silent for a long while. Just when I think that he’s ready to accept defeat, he tries again. “You can trust me, Ziggy.”

Ha. Doubtful.

I lift my chin defiantly. “Why?No onetrusts you, Darius.”

He lowers his eyes to catch mine. His voice softens. “You used to.”

My entire body flinches.Ouch!The reminder is like a sucker punch to the gut.

Sweet memories try to climb out of the grave where the gullible teenaged version of myself buried them. I shake my head bitterly as I attempt to shake those memories to the wayside.

“That was a long time ago. A lot has changed, Money Man.” I desperately want to sound tough but I hear the quiver in my voice.

I try not to wander down memory lane. I try not to think about how things were with Darius in the past. I was young and stupid back then. Now I can see that I was wrong about him. I sure won’t make that same mistake twice.

As I fight an internal battle against the weaker part of myself, Darius keeps his eyes on me. He doesn’t look away. The intensity of his stare is making it so damn hard to keep my thoughts straight.

Thankfully, my lucky stars send a distraction right then. The chime above the door sounds again. This time, it really is a customer.

An older woman strolls into my shop, and I hastily excuse myself to go help my first—and probably last—customer of the day.

“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask sweetly.

“How much is this?” the woman questions, pointing to a hand-crafted wooden statue.

“Oh, that piece? That’s a special one.” I smile widely. “That’s a statue of an ancient goddess. It’s handmade from willow wood. It’s all yours for thirty-nine, ninety-nine,” I tell her.

The woman’s lips turn downward as she takes the statute off the shelf to examine it closer. “It’s kind of small. Would you take twenty for it?”

My shoulders sag. It’s so frustrating that everyone tries to haggle over my prices. This is not a yard sale. My shop carries so many one-of-a-kind items. I keep my prices as low as possible, barely asking for more than what I got it for.

“How about twenty-eight? And I’ll throw in a free pouch of gypsum stones,” I offer brightly, trying to negotiate with the woman, hoping she’ll be reasonable.

“I can’t do a penny over twenty,” the customer snaps, placing the statue back on the shelf.

“Okay, okay. It’s yours!” Hell—I’m ready to run after this woman and chase her down the street if I have to. I’mthatdesperate.

I’ll settle for the lower price because I figure that a little bit of money is better thannomoney at this point.

Grinning victoriously, she hands me a twenty, not even bothering to come up to the register. I guess she wasn’t kidding about not going a penny over, not even to pay the taxes.

She grabs the figurine and darts out the door.What a fucking robbery!

I stare out the front window, feeling so dang defeated, despite the little voice in the back of my mind, begging meto have faith. It’s getting harder and harder with each passing day.

When I turn back around, I startle. Shit—I’d forgotten all about Darius Brighton who’s lurking around my shop.

Now, I catch him standing in my spot behind the front counter. And he’s—oh my god!—he’s reading the non-renewal letter from the landlord!

How freaking dare he?!

“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek. “Isn’t it illegal to read someone's mail or something?”

I’m seething. Quite literally burning with anger. And with embarrassment.

Yet somehow, he doesn’t seem to care. His head lifts slowly and he’s dangling the letter between his fingers. “You’re…broke.”

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