Page 46 of By A Thread
Holy cheese and crackers. The man was texting me. On purpose.
I wondered if the cab he’d paid for had accidentally delivered me to a different time dimension where the Dominic Russos and Ally Moraleses of the world got along.
Me: Sorry to have dashed Nelson’s dreams. I hope he’ll forgive me.
I debated thanking Dom for the cab money. But decided it was safer to just pay him back instead. Ugh. Another unforeseen expense. But Dominic Russo wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be beholden to.
Dominic: How’s the family emergency?
Me: Under control. Why are you being nice?
Dominic: I’m not being nice. I’m seeing if you decided to quit yet.
Finished with the bagel, I flopped back against my pillow.
Me: That sounds more realistic. I was worried you’d somehow managed to activate your soul.
Dominic: One must have a soul in order to activate it.
I worked up a smile as I stared at my screen. Was he being funny? On purpose?
Me: Are you drunk? Or do you only sprout a personality after dark? Or wait, is this Greta?
Dominic: You’re annoying.
Me: Drunk Greta, is that you?
Dominic: Are you coming into work Monday or not?
Me: As long as you swear never to wear a vest again. Don’t ruin this fetish for me, Charming. I’ll hate you forever.
Dominic: Afraid you can’t resist me, Maleficent?
Me: You’re SO not my type… but just to be on the safe side. Ditch the vests.
Dominic: I’ll think about it. Did you have dinner?
I rolled my eyes and scooped up a spoonful of ramen. The man had an obsession with food.
Me: Yes.
Dominic: Did you take a cab home?
Me: I did. Thanks. I have change for you.
Dominic: Shut up and go to sleep.
I had no idea what his game was, but I was tired enough to do as he demanded.
16
Ally
Icame into work Monday dragging ass. My mood was reflected in the head-to-toe black-on-black of my outfit. The only signs of Fun, Energetic Me were my gold hoop earrings with tiny colored beads, a Christmas gift from my father a few years ago.
“Hey, girl,” Gola said, popping up in my cubicle, sucking down a green smoothie. “How was your weekend? How did that out of office meeting go with Mr. So Cold He’s Hot?”
My weekend had been a mess. I squeezed in hospital visits between bar shifts, dance classes, and a sorry-for-flaking-on-you last-minute catering gig my boss had offered up. I hadn’t so much as lifted a broom or watched a “How to Hang Drywall Yourself” YouTube tutorial.
