Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Miss… please.” The receptionist tried to reach across the counter for her phone, but Crazy Bitch stepped back.
“That’s not me. It doesn’t sound anything like me.” Sam was angry, spittle hitting the desk.
“Really?” She put the phone in her pocket. “Then I’m sorry. I was wrong. But he sounds the same way when you pronounce sugar. The caller said ants will be eating what was left of me after you’re done fucking me like sugar.”
“A lot of people pronounce sugar like that.” He tried to bluster his way through, but Crazy Bitch could see the suspicion on receptionist’s face and the other employees who had come out when they heard her trying to take the phone away from her.
“You pronounce it that way?” Crazy Bitch cocked her head in the receptionist’s direction.
“No.”
“Me, either. Most of my friends don’t, either. The only one I know is you, and you’re from Georgia.”
“Get out before I call the police.”
“I’m going. I just wanted to give you a chance to tell me what you wanted to do to me in person, but I guess you’re too big a coward to do that.”
Turning, she stalked out of the office, going to the elevator. She warily listened for the door in case he followed her, but he had proven her point—Sam was too big a coward to confront her head-on where anyone else could see.
She stopped by Fat Louise’s desk, warning her what she had done.
“When I tell Cade—”
“You’re not going to say anything to Cade or anyone else. I saw those women’s faces. I think most of them believed me. If someone mentions me, just say we don’t hang out much anymore and I didn’t say anything to you about it. You might get lucky and still be considered for the job.”
“I don’t care—”
“Yes, you do. He’d be stupid to mess with me again. He’ll be too afraid of what I’d do next while he’s working. This will blow over if we give it time.”
“I hope you’re right.” Fat Louise gazed doubtfully up at her.
“I might not be Killyama, but I can take care of myself. You know that.”
Conceding, Fat Louise gave in with a sigh. “I won’t say anything.”
“You going to the club Friday?”
“Yes, I managed to find a sitter.”
“I’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Crazy Bitch put the incident behind her after she walked out of the hospital.
She barely managed to beat her first customer to the shop. She had just flicked the open sign on when Gail walked inside with a cheerful attitude that was hard to take before Crazy Bitch had her first cup of coffee.
Turning the pot on, she then settled Gail in the chair and tucked a cape around her.
“You want something different, or the same?” Crazy Bitch asked as she combed her hair out.
“The same, but can you go a tiny bit darker this time?”
“No problem. You want a cup of coffee?”
“Please. I didn’t want to keep you waiting, so I didn’t stop.”
She made each of them a cup, giving Gail hers before taking a sip of the scalding-hot coffee as she went to mix the color.
Sectioning the hair, she asked Gail if she was seeing anyone.
“No, I haven’t met anyone new, and I’m not interested. I need to broaden my horizons or start looking online.”
The twenty-four-year-old school teacher should have men running after her. She was blonde, thin, and had a brain.
“Be careful about broadening your horizons. I tried that, and you don’t want to know how well that turned out.”
“Who was it?” Gail’s curiosity was aroused.
“No one you would know. I could introduce you to some men at the Destructors’ club. Some of them—”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Some of them are really good guys.” Well, two or three were.
“Can they read?” she joked.
Her estimation of the woman dropped to zero at her contempt. If she thought of the men in a derogatory way, then she would feel the same about her.
“They can read. Warrick borrowed Slaughterhouse-Five from me, and I borrowed Cat’s Cradle from Z. Have you read it?”
“No.”
“When I get finished, I can lend it to you.”
“That’s okay. I can get my own copy.”
Crazy Bitch switched to discussing the weather to keep herself from throwing the uptight bitch out of the shop.
She was finishing putting the color on Gail’s hair when Sex Piston came through the door.
“I heard you’re coming to dinner tonight with Calder.”
“The color needs to set for twenty minutes,” Crazy Bitch told her customer, giving her a magazine.
“I was going to tell you when you got here,” she directed at Sex Piston.
Sex Piston buttoned up her smock. “You could have texted me last night.”
“I was busy painting my toenails.”
“You’re pulling out the big guns to catch him—painting your toenails. What’s next, getting your eyebrows threaded?”
“Why do that when I can get you to do it for free?”