Page 68 of Freaks Of Nature
He lets out a laugh. “I like the trunk space,” he says with a wink.
Taking a seat at the counter beside him, I scan over Mason’s tattoos for the first time in daylight. The theme and style of his ink are the same as his brother’s, but I see now the skulls are in different positions and depicted from alternate angles. I totally missed that the night the guys pulled the switch on me.
Bastards!
I finish a plate of scramble and two pancakes, plus my own mug of coffee, but it doesn’t do much to increase my energy. I can’t keep my eyes open.
I know it might have something to do with the two guys who broke into my apartment at 4 a.m. to kidnap me and haven’t let me sleep all day—not to mention the physical ache of what they put me through.
Okay, I’m not really complaining about that, but I still feel drained. How am I supposed to make it through my shift?
“Call in sick,” Ash suggests, reading my mind when I drop my face into my hands on the counter. “Stay another night.”
“I can’t.” Brushing my hair out of my face, I straighten on my stool with a sigh. “I’ve never called in sick before. And Ineed the money. I can barely get enough together for rent as it is.”
“Then they’re overcharging you,” Mason chimes in. “That place is a shithole, and you know it.”
“But it’s all I can afford at the moment. I’ve applied to twenty-nine different companies. No one’s hiring.” At least not me. They want someone with experience in PR or marketing. Something I lack because nobody is willing to give me a chance.
“You should move in with us until you find a new job.”
“Right,” I scoff and meet Mason’s level stare with a note of humor. “And whose bed would I be sharing?”
“Mine,” they both reply in one voice.
I laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
“Fine,” Ash groans, setting his elbow on the counter to prop his chin up with his fist. “You choose. We’ll take turns.”
“Sure you will.”
“You don’t have to share a bed with either of us if you don’t want to,” Mason assures me. “You’ll have the basement to yourself. The couch is pretty comfy.”
Ash tips his head to one side. “How about going into sales? You have people skills, don’t you? Being a waitress and all.”
“She has a college degree. She’s not gonna want to work at our shop,” Mason argues, raising his mug then adds, “She’d have to deal with your ass all day,” under his breath.
I stifle a grin at the jibe. It’s the first time Mason has shown a slice of humor.
I like it.
Pushing off the stool, I let out another sigh. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not calling in sick. I’ll manage somehow.”
—
“Meanwhile, women across the city fear for their lives as the killer remains at large,” the blonde reporter stresses with a note of disappointment into her mic.
The case of the strangler continues to dominate every news channel as still no arrest has been made. I can’t blame her for being angry at the poor results of the investigation.
I watch the screen of Drew’s TV switch back from the on-screen reporter at the police station to the crew at the studio, then turn to discard my apron.
“That cute boyfriend of yours walking you home tonight?” Laura asks.
“No. He cancelled.” Ash texted that something came up. I’m low-key glad. I need a break from all theirattention.
“But it’s alright,” I assure her, clocking out. “I swear I won’t dilly-dally or talk to any strangers.” I wink and give her a grin over my shoulder before I push through the back door into the alley.
15 minutes later, I slide my key into the fixed lock of the building’s entrance, and another 45 seconds after that, I shut myself up inside my apartment.
