Page 24 of The Bad Girl
“Probably some Free the Nipple bullshit. Well, it’s not that I don’t love nipples, and I sincerely wish that they’d all make a bid for freedom, but this shit gets exhausting.”
He pulls out his phone, scanning it again until his lips curl into a smile, and he releases a silent sigh. “She was protesting animal testing.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, but it’s going to have her busy over the next week. Speaking of which, it’s 9:10.”
“9:10?”
“Yeah, don’t you have a message to send?”
“Oh, shit!”
“Let’s go over what you’re going to say.”
I take my phone out and open it to Facebook messenger. “Okay, how does this sound, ‘Sorry it took so long to get back—’“
“It sounds like garbage. Don’t apologize. Don’t even acknowledge that it took two days for you to reply.”
“Oh…”
“Try this: I can fit you in next week. How does The Hard Brew sound?’”
I type out the message, hesitating before I hit send.
“Bad girls don’t put that kind of thought into texts. Now send it off.”
I comply, exhaling an anxious breath when I realize there’s no taking it back.
“Now, I’ve thought about this, and when you go, don’t get a hard brew. Just get a regular coffee.”
“Then why go there?”
“Because, if you were to order a drink with alcohol, it could look like you’re going for the bar. If you go there for a casual coffee, it makes it look like you belong there. You weren’t going there to the hard drink, you’re going because you like the atmosphere.”
“Got it.”
“The Chatterbox is up. Stacey did a fantastic job with it last night before she decided to get herself arrested. You look amazing, and everything’s going according to plan.”
My phone buzzes, and I see a notification telling me that Tom has responded to my text. On instinct, I nearly launch my phone across the room.
Maxwell exhales, drawing his brow up. “That’s not badass, Nadine.”
My eyes are fixed on my phone, wondering how Tom has responded to my blunt communication.
Maxwell’s hand folds over mine. “You’re not going to even look at this. In fact, I’m taking this from you for the rest of the day.”
“But-but—”
“No buts, now scuttle along, lest you want an eyeful.”
Yes, please!
Maxwell pushes a button on a keypad secured to the wall, and the shower comes to life.
The truth is, I sure as hell could use an eyeful, but I’m professional enough to know that would be a grave lapse in judgment.
“I’ll make sure no one’s started any fires,” I say and retreat to the office.
