Page 17 of Savage Hate
Lennon’s face crumples, and her composure disappears. I see the emotions flitting across her pretty little face one by one—shock, confusion, and then… devastation.
She clears her throat. “How do you know about that?”
Jude shrugs. “I heard you were engaged. Now you’re here. I’m not an idiot.” He smirks down at her. “Thanks for confirming, though.”
Anger.That’s solely anger flashing through her attempt at a controlled expression. She takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, but Damon steps forward.
“I don’t give a fuck who is cheating on who. Jude, get back to your station.” He looks at me. “You too, Silas.” He gives Lennon an unrelenting scowl. “Clean the gum off the side of the building.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”
I smile as I walk back to my station. “We don’t have the right tools, so you’ll have to use your hands.” Flicking my eyes to her pink nails, I grin. “I guess it’s a good thing you have long nails. I’d use gloves if I were you. That shit is disgusting.”
I see it then. The glimmer of doubt. The look of hesitation. Turning around, I wink at the guys.
She thought she had the upper hand, but what she didn’t realize was that we are never going to let her have that control over us ever again.
eleven
Lennon
I won’t cry.
I won’t cry.
I won’t cry.
I refuse toevergive these pricks the satisfaction of letting them know they got to me. But as I scrape the sticky, years-old gum off the exterior wall, I can’t help but want to release a sob as pieces of the disgusting gum press under the tips of my nails, causing them to ache. The gloves did nothing, since they ripped two minutes in. No one talks about the sickly-sweet scent of old gum, either. That smell doesn’t just go away—it turns rancid. I gag as I scrape another small section off.
I can leave.
The thought flits through my mind every twenty seconds or so, with every flurry of motion to get the gum to dislodge from under my nails.
The problem is, if I walked away now, they would always hold that against me. I would always be the loser in their eyes.
Grinding my jaw, I continue until an idea strikes me. I walk around the corner, heading up into my apartment, and grab the only thing that makes sense—a pie server. I take a butter knife down with me, too.
I head back inside the studio twenty minutes later, smiling, the pie server and knife safely back in my apartment, where I’ll probably end up recycling them thanks to that God-awful smell. Silas just raises his eyebrows before going out to check my work.
Prick.
I pretend to be busy on the computer for the next half hour or so, and I thank my lucky stars that the first customer is a few minutes early. The night passes similarly, and maybe the guys got their fill of revenge already, because they don’t ask me to do any more ridiculous chores. Around two, I tell them I’m leaving, and they all wave me away. I’m both surprised and worried at that. Surprised they’re just going to let me go, and worried they’re gearing up for something bigger. Tomorrow is my day off, and Mindy is going to come over for some wine, so at least I can put off whatever they have in store for me until Saturday.
Just as I open the door to leave, Silas walks over to me with yet another wad of cash.
I quickly count it. “This is three hundred dollars.”
He shrugs. “We pay $20/hour.”
I glare at him, doing the math. “I wasn’t here for fifteen hours.”
He sits down on the couch, and my eyes flick over to Damon and Jude, who are both watching me with large frowns. My eyes go back to Silas as he runs a hand through his messy, blonde hair.
“Do you want the fucking money or not? Overtime is double, and you worked overtime both nights. Take the money and get the fuck out of here, Lennon.”
I swallow, pocketing the cash. “Okay. See you Saturday.”
Like always, neither of them acknowledges me, and I slink upstairs to my apartment. As I close the door, I can hear them laughing downstairs, and my chest tightens. I shake my head and take a long, hot shower before climbing into bed for the night.
