Page 17 of Desert King

4

Amber

“Stupid, Amber. You’re so stupid.” My hair is orange, not the sexy shade of baby pink the box promised. I quickly braid my hair and pin the ends up underneath, dressing quickly. I have ten minutes to get to work and I’m actually really excited. Today is day one of my new life, orange hair fail and all—I’m determined to make it a good one.

I didn’t just come out here blind. I did have a rough plan. After I was discharged from the hospital, I still felt horribly isolated. Anyone who managed to thwart the virus shunned me, even though it had left my body, people were still afraid of me. Like I would somehow still spread it.

I spent days by myself in my room, watching the world go by, alive but still not living. I was over it. All of it. I needed a change, something new. Deep in the stillness of my soul I knew the answer was an adventure, a new life somewhere else. I knew my lungs couldn’t take the cold climate and I hate the freezing chill of anything under sixty degrees. I also didn’t want to get on a plane. I searched for jobs in Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. California was a dream too far.

Hours upon hours I searched the Internet. The pickings were a bit slim for someone like me. College never appealed to me. I didn’t see the point in spending a shit ton of money when I had no idea what I wanted to be. What I wanted to do. Then COVID hit hard in three waves. I caught it on the second wave. The economy came back. We started making everything in America again. Construction boomed. Factories were built. But I didn’t see myself working a shift job on an assembly line. Then I stumbled upon a job posting four Google pages deep. It was a position in Santa Fe, New Mexico. A mom was searching for a paraprofessional with experience working with autistic children. She would pay twenty dollars an hour. I picked up my cell and dialed immediately. After a two-hour phone conversation I knew I had found what I was searching for. Jenny’s son was seven and on the spectrum. He spent two years in intermittent lock downs and didn’t handle the transition back to school well, so she pulled him back out. I knew I could help the boy. When she texted me his picture, he stole my heart. His dark little eyes tugged at my heart strings. I yearned to brush back the lock of hair that fell over one side of his forehead. I might not have a degree, but I had four years of classroom experience outside of Tampa. I could reach him. I knew I could.

I signed a month-to-month lease in a small apartment complex a few miles from Jenny’s home. Packed up my room in under a week and then broke the news to my mom.

I lace up my sneakers feeling excited for the first time in forever over meeting a new boy. Who knew I’d lose my heart to him in a photograph? Edge and Tarak and all those beefy bikers don’t have a chance against seven-year-old Evan.

I check my Waze app. Two miles. My fingers move the cheap, plastic blinds from the window. It’s sunny but still early. I’ll walk. I cross to the small fridge and take a bottle of water with me just in case. After all, I am living in the desert now.

The sun feels good on my skin as I head out into the brand-new day in front of me. I can’t wait to meet Evan and Jenny. The streets of Santa Fe are gorgeous. I wasn’t expecting a tiny town nestled between the mountains to be so swanky, but it is. The shop windows are full of designer brands. The women milling about all carry expensive espresso drinks. I can’t help but notice their toenails match their brightly colored manicured fingernails.

My shoulders slink just a bit. I can’t remember the last time I painted my toenails. I make a mental note to start.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee and baking bread wafts from a small café enticing me to wander in.

I order a small coffee heavy with cream and sugar then ask for a buttered croissant.

“Thank you,” I murmur, gingerly taking the coffee and bag. “Shit! What the?” The sound of buzzing chainsaws startled me causing tiny drops of hot coffee to land on my skin.

I shake my head. It wasn’t chainsaws but the buzz of motorcycle engines as about five of them race past. “So much for a peaceful morning,” I mutter. My eyebrows lift as I recognize the familiar patch on the back of their cuts. Royal Bastards MC. And of course, they slow down, cut their engines and park just up the street. I hate that I can’t look away. They’re just so huge. Manly. Their faces are covered but I recognize the leader, Tarak. He swaggers toward the bake shop as if he has the biggest set of balls the world has ever seen. My eyes roll. I’m sure my snort reaches their ears, but I don’t care as I turn in the other direction. These big ass men with their bruises and tats still have their vices just like the rest of us. Including coffee and sweets.

“What’s so funny, Mouse?”

My hand tightens on my coffee. No way, does he remember me.

I pause, feeling him behind me. A huge presence. It’s probably the wind but I swear I felt his breath on the back of my neck. But he couldn’t be that close. Could he?

Grimacing, I turn. “I’m surprised you even remember who I am.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mouse. You have a particular shade of brown uglier than marsh mud.”

I flinch. Words still hurt. “How did your fight go?”

“I cut Edge down like a dog.”

“Really?” I arch a brow. “Seems to me your face is more busted than his was.”

“You saw him?”

“The next morning.”

Tarak’s fist clenches. Interesting… His lips thin as he looks me over. His eyes narrow to slits.

“Get lost, Mouse. Leave. This is my turf and I don’t want you in it.”

“Tough. I’m not leaving.”

He comes closer. The tips of his snakeskin boots touch my sneakers. “I won’t ask twice. If you’re not gone by the end of the week. I’m coming for you.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared. Trembling.” I roll my eyes at him and turn. But I don’t make it two steps before his large, tan hand covered in ink jerks me around. “You don’t know who your messing with.”

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