Page 3 of Romania
There was a creak of a chair in the office behind Mum.
Mum winced and muttered, “I shouldn’t’ve opened his door.”
Dad stopped in the doorway. “Who was askin’ this? What’s the guy’s name?” Dad moved over to the counter where the invoices were laid out.
“Dad,” I whined. “You understand I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman with needs.” I kept a straight face, enjoying teasing him.
Mum looked away, but I saw her shoulders shaking when Dad coughed and spluttered and turned red.
“Kid. Fucking hell. I don’t need to know anythin’. You go to your mum about that shit and just tell me if or when I need to hurt someone.”
“Okay.” I grinned.
He sighed, turned, and walked back into his office.
“You’re evil,” Mum whispered.
“But it was funny, right?”
She pinched her forefinger and thumb together. “Go get a snack, and I’ll let you know when the GSX-R arrives.”
I blew her a kiss. “You’re the best,” I said before leaving. This time, instead of the break room connected to the garage, I went into the compound.
On the way to the kitchen, I greeted brothers and their women, some kids too. But all I could think about was getting my hands on one of those monster cookies that I saw yesterday.
The brothers had better have left one for me or there’d be hell to pay.
I had a deep relationship with food. Food loved me, and I loved it. I’d give anything a try at least once, and so far, the only thing I had tried and didn’t like was when Texas had dared me to eat frog’s legs that time we’d gone to a fancy restaurant to celebrate Mum and Dad’s anniversary.
A restaurant we’d never step foot in again since my stomach had revolted at putting frog’s legs in it, and I ended up spraying their bathroom with vomit.
Now it was funny, but back then, I wanted to die of mortification.
Huh, I like that word.
Mortification.
I wanted to use it more often.
Pushing through the doors, I said, “Mena, hey, hi, hello.” I walked up behind her to hug around the waist to avoid the marinade all over her hands.
“Hi, Rommy. How’s your morning been?”
“Amazing. I just finished a car, and I have a bike coming in soon.” I didn’t bother telling Mena about what was wrong with the car or what type. I noticed a lot of the women in my life really didn’t care to hear about vehicles. “Have you seen any of those big cookies around? Oh, and what are we having for lunch? Are the club girls helping you? You should have more help in here.” I glanced through some plastic containers as I talked.
The club girls were women who stayed in the compound for free and in return they got to party hard and sex it up with the single brothers. But Mum made sure they pulled their weight with cleaning and cooking too.
“The cookies are on the left up the top. Knife tried to hide them yesterday. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “My lips are sealed.” I took the container down and opened the lid, moaning at the sight of the chocolate-chip goodness. I grabbed one out and placed the container back before facing Mena again.
“For lunch, I’m making some pastries as well as meat skewers and salads. Dinner, I’m preparing the chicken.” She nodded down at the big bowl she had her hands stuffed in. “The club girls will finish off dinner, but I told them I didn’t need help for lunch.” She smiled.
“I’m already looking forward to lunch,” I told her.
She huffed. “When aren’t you looking forward to food?”
“Ha, true.” My cell chimed with a text. It was Mum telling me the bike was here. I shoved the rest of the cookie in my mouth and waved to Mena. “Got to go,” I told her and winced when bits of cookie flew out.
