Page 25 of Fast and Dirty

“Everyone around here comes in with items they’ve outgrown but it’s never the last time they see them. Lately it’s made people shy away from coming here because they don’t want to wear something that someone else will point out used to be theirs.”

“Got it,” I nod warmly. “Well, I have some things here,” I lift the quilted sack Agnes let me use to schlep a few of my unwanted garments in. “I don’t know if they’d be suitable for your inventory, but you can have a look,” I hand it over. I doubt anyone will come in here wanting a Dolce honeymoon sarong.

Emily, as her name is, takes the sack from me andurges me to go peruse the racks, and a magnetic beam seems to pull me right over to the corner where there are several with denim. I’ve always loved the look of blue jeans but couldn’t be caught dead in them.

That’s what hobos wear, my always half-bombed mother would garble.We have class.

Yeah. Anyway, I’m not even sure what jean size I am, but I’m sure all the mandatory yoga and spinning classes have kept me somewhere in the 4-range. Oooh… I could check out the local cuisine here and start eating! Size 6, here I come!

Not bothering with the sizes, I hold a few heavily worn pairs up in front of me and decide they’re good enough to try on before making a pit stop at a rack of vintage t-shirts on my way to the dressing room. If I can find more heavenly cotton shirts like West’s I’ll be in business.

Fuck, denim feels good! And my peers were full of crack when they touted that Chanel slacks and Gucci dresses was what you wore when you wanted your ass to look good. These - whatever the hell brand they are - make it look tight and rockin. And damn, they even look good with Agnes’s muu-muu, if I tuck it in like a shirt.

“Agnes!” I exclaim, pushing the dressing room curtain aside to show her the look, just at the same time she pushes the curtain across the way open.

“Hey!” She gleefully reveals herself in a pair of sequined booty shorts, a flowery crop top, and a captains hat.

“Um,” I stammer, a little stunned, but impressed. “Wow.”

“Well, you look hotter than leather seats in July.” She peruses me up and down with a whistle. “Slumming suits you,” she compliments me as she turns toward the counter. “Emily honey, why don’t you ring me up while she looks for more sexy rags.”

For the next forty minutes, I zip around this little gem of a shop finding nice, soft shirts with random logos, blue jeans with rips, my first ever pair of cut-off shorts, and a hockey jersey for the Blasters. I’ve never been into sports, but I could be.

I’m on some kind of a high when I bring these items along with a couple cute sundresses to the front and ask Emily what I owe her.

“Are you kidding me?” She exclaims, all my ridiculous summer frocks laid out on the counter. “These are legit designers. We can call it a trade, because I’ve never had anything of this quality in my store.”

Well that hardly seems fair. She has a business to run; she can’t just give stuff away. Then again, I only have so much money to my name before I can find a job.

“I can’t let you do that,” I tell her just as I have an idea. “But, if you can give me a discount…” I pull out my phone and tap out a text to Toby so I don’t forget. “I can get you more fashions for all four seasons.”

Me: The security code for the penthouse is 2172 and mom always takes an Ativan nap after lunch. Can you grab some things from my closet? I’ll tell you where to send them later! XO

I look back up to find Emily’s jaw open, and I reach across the counter to gently close it for her. Another move that I would’ve gotten screamed at for in my old life, but this special little shopping trip has got me embracing all the possibilities.

After being rung up for a more than fair price, I signal to Agnes with my bags.

“Come on Agnes, lets go eat carbs and see if I like sports!”

“Sure thing honey,” she slides her giant sunglasses on as she scuttles behind me. “As long as we make it home for MacGyver reruns and my afternoon power nap.”

11

WEST

What a fucking week, unlike any other. The lack of sleep, the distracting thoughts of Kira and knowing looks from Jackson, and I’m ready for a beer and unwinding with the Blasters game on the big flatscreen. I’m not even much of a sports fan but having it babbling in the background sure is relaxing, so long as it’s not NASCAR.

I find a familiar face at the bar and take the empty stool next to him. “What’s up, man?” I give Hunt a lazy fist bump as I throw my ass on a barstool and let out a decompressing breath. Collin is tending bar tonight, and he shoves a cocktail napkin in front of me and immediately starts drawing my beer. Even though it’s only Thursday, I give myself permission to settle in and let go. I take a quick glance over at Hunt to find him spaced out with his eyes on the game and then to the bar in front of him where a half-full tumbler of whiskey sits.

“I see you’re skipping the beer. Hard day?”

He nods vigorously as he blows out a breath. “I can’t hire any good help to save my life, and I’m about to kick my idiot brother to the curb,” he explains as my beer is set in front of me.

Itake a long chug and set it down with a sigh of relief. “Do it. His scrawny ass isn’t going to learn shit until you take his training wheels off.”

This gets an amused snort out of Hunt as he nods in agreement. “He was too hungover to do shit this morning, completely fucked up the measurements on the the Porter’s coffee table, and now, here he is, back at the bar to do it all over again.”

I sit back and drape my elbows over the back of the stool. Hunt’s younger brother Ryan is basically the town fuckboy who doesn’t take anything seriously. Probably because he was used to their mom picking him up, dusting him off, and handing him a cookie after every fuck up before she retired to Florida.

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