Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I didn’t care if she was ‘bad’ like everyone said that she was. I cared that they treated her with respect.
It didn’t matter what a person had done, they deserved the same amount of respect as anyone else.
I didn’t know June’s story. I knew that she lied. I knew that she broke the law—at least when it came to speeding. I knew that this whole freakin’ town seemed to have a problem with her. But, that didn’t mean that she didn’t act like any other person in this world.
You did what you had to do sometimes, and asked forgiveness later.
At least that was how it worked in my world.
“What project was she talking about?” the younger of the two women asked.
“Beatrice,” Francesca said, addressing her mother informally. “You don’t know me. You also don’t get to ask questions like this. Not and continue being your indifferent self when it comes to parenting.”
Beatrice stiffened. “Don’t speak to me like that, little girl.”
“I just did,” Francesca countered.
Amadea gasped. “Francesca Leandra Solomon. I do not think that is how a lady should be acting.”
Francesca turned her haunted eyes to her grandmother. “I also don’t think you should talk badly about someone you don’t know, but that’s just me.”
My mouth quirked, and a noise from my table had me turning my head to see the rest of our table staring at the festivities just like I had been.
Reagan was the most enraptured, almost leaning out of her chair to get closer to the spectacle the group was making of themselves.
“I think that it’s time for us to go,” Beatrice suggested, finally catching on that they were making spectacles of themselves.
She stood up, but Francesca refused to follow suit. “No. I’m going to finish my dinner. I ordered a steak.”
“You don’t get the choice here,” Beatrice all but snarled. “Get up and walk outside.”
“Make me.”
I bit my lip, wondering what would happen next.
That was when Beatrice pulled out her phone like it was a sword.
“Fine. I didn’t want to have to do this…”
Francesca reached forward and snatched out a roll, a smile on her face a mile wide.
“Coke? This is Beatrice. We’re at…”
She rattled off the address and then informed her ex-husband that he needed to get down there immediately.
Immediately was two and a half minutes later.
Coke Solomon was dressed much the same as he was the first time I’d seen him. Dirty jeans, black t-shirt that was likely just as dirty, work boots that had grime and grease on them, and a dirty red baseball cap pulled down low over his head.
He scanned the area once, pinpointed his daughter who was waving at him with enthusiasm and headed her way.
He passed Tennessee and June, offered them a small smile, but continued our way.
He walked right up to Francesca and said, “What’s wrong?”
He looked quite concerned, which made June get up and make her way over, worry clearly evident on her face.
June stopped just shy of actually being in the circle, which made it possible for her to hide behind a support pillar, out of view of everybody to the left of my table—the group that was about to explode as they talked about her.
“What’s wrong is you’re allowing trashy whores around my daughter.” Beatrice shot right into the ‘problem at hand.’
I stiffened and rose, making my way around the table and depositing myself in front of June.
June huffed out an annoyed breath that stalled in her lungs the moment she heard what was said next.
“I can’t believe you’d allow our Francesca to be around the town whore’s daughter. You know that June is not worthy of being anywhere near her. And frankly, I don’t see how or why you would think that this was acceptable,” Amadea announced.
June made a sound in her throat that sounded like a wounded animal taking their deathblow.
I reached backward and found her hand that was resting on the pillar now offering her support to stand.
She flinched when our hands made contact, then ripped herself away.
I frowned as I turned around to look at her, but all I got was a view of the back of her head as she hurried back toward her table.
As she said a few things to the old man there, she patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the restaurant, leaving her clearly confused grandfather, and her half-eaten steak behind.
I turned back around, torn between following after her and staying.
Then a group full of men came in laughing, pointing at something over their shoulders, and I chose to go.
Hearing this wouldn’t help.
All it did was make me want to kick ass, not save it.
But when I got out to the parking lot thirty seconds later, it was to see her old truck speed out of the parking lot and burning rubber as she did so.