Page 56 of Dash

“You guys are fucking gossips,” I grumble.

Mace holds his hands up defensively. “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

I spot Diesel across the room. Perfect fucking timing. I slip off my stool. “You want to read my diary next?” I quip. “Talk about our feelings?”

He flips me off as I walk away, and I grin. It feels good to be normal, even if it’s only for a moment.

Diesel doesn’t say a word to me as I approach. That’s not unusual for him, but he seems on edge this morning. That makes me wary. The guy is unpredictable at the best of times.

I cast sidelong glances at him as we head out to our bikes, waiting for him to detonate or do something.

He doesn’t.

“You okay?” I unlock my helmet from the bike.

“Fucking peachy,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t offer more, and I don’t push him.

I get on my bike and follow behind him.

I fucking hate collecting money, but today, it releases some of the tension inside me. Especially when two of our regulars come up with a bullshit reason why they don’t have what they owe us.

He folds like wet tissue when I hit him then magically finds a thousand pounds he didn’t have thirty seconds earlier.

Midway through the day, we stop for food, and while Diesel is ordering from a wide-eyed, terrified girl behind the counter, I pull my phone out and message Dayna.

How’s your day?

While I wait for my order, I’m watching my phone until it pings.

Dayna:

I’m three coffees deep and contemplating whether I can bury Margaret from production under the floorboards in the boardroom.

I almost choke on the Coke I’m sipping.

No matter how many times I’m on the receiving end of her sharp mind, she still fucking surprises me. I love that she keeps me on my toes.

Too obvious a place.

Dayna:

Bummer. How’s your day?

I glance over at Diesel, who is inspecting something on the counter like it’s offended him.

Slow. Only thing getting me through is knowing I’m seeing you later.

She starts typing, then the dots disappear. A few moments later, they’re back before they disappear again.

The girl calls for my order number and I grab the tray and join Diesel, who has stuffed himself behind the smallest table in the fucking room. He’s picking at his fries like they’re laced with arsenic.

Just as I sit, a message pings.

Dayna:

Is your dick feeling lonely?

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