Page 16 of Joy
“One week.”
Shit, fuck, goddamn cock, hell!“So….”
“There’s an inn farther in town you can stay at! And then you can come back here,” she said happily. “I promise it’s not double-booked after that. And we’ll refund you for the unused nights.”
Except that the inn was going to be way more expensive, even if I got a meager amount of cash back. And I wasn’t scheduled to be paid until the end of the week. Maybe I could talk to George….
“Sorry, sweetie,” Bridget murmured.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, despite screaming internally. I just couldn’t find it within myself to be angry at a little old lady with purple hair. Bridget was nice—it wasn’t her fault Bernard needed stronger glasses.
I went upstairs. I had intended on at least changing out of my coffee-covered shirt, but big surprise, I had no clean clothes and had decided not to do laundry last night. So, looking like I needed to wear a bib, I packed up my bag and vacated the pink nightmare. I walked to Eatery with my duffle slung over one shoulder, trying to figure out the best phrasing that would allow me to beg for my paycheck early after a whopping two days of work.
How much more of a hot mess could my life be?
I should have known better than to even think that question. Tempting fate is what that was.
The front door of Eatery slammed open and smacked me in the face.
“Son of a fuck!” I shouted, toppling backward and landing on my ass. My glasses had been tossed right off my face, and I felt something warm drip from my nose.
“Uh-oh!” called a kid’s voice before the door fell shut.
I shook my head and looked around, putting my glasses back on as the door opened once more.
“Gideon!” George exclaimed. “You okay?”
“No, but such is life,” I muttered as he took my hand and yanked me to my feet.
“You got a bloody nose, kid.”
“Yup….” I touched it carefully and my fingers came away wet.
George ushered me inside, made me sit at the empty counter, and handed over a wad of napkins. “Ellen!” His voice boomed across the restaurant. “Come over here right now, missy.”
I looked sideways when a little head appeared at the barstools. The girl looked up at me, wearing a Batman mask over her face and a pink princess dress that would have matched the walls of the suite at the B&B.
“I’m sorry I hit your face,” she stated bluntly.
“Thanks.”
“Can I see your hand?” she asked next, clearly not all that interested in feeling remorse for my nose.
“Sure.” I held my hand out.
She took it and traced the outlines of my tattoos with a little finger. “Did this hurt?”
“Yeah. Did you barf in gym class yesterday?” I asked, guessing she was George’s kid.
Ellen nodded. “On Mrs. White’s sneakers. I had milk before gym! Then she made me run and I said, ‘No way! I don’t run after chocolate milk, Mrs. W.’ And she said, ‘Ellen, Ellen, Ellen. I blew my whistle, that means you run!’ So I said, ‘Okay, but it might be bad….’”
I snorted. “And so it was.”
“It smelled gross.”
“Ellen,” George said with a hand over his face. “Go color, please.”
She let go of my hand and skipped back down to one of the booths in the back of the restaurant.
