Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Oh, here.” Solana rushes over to greet him, taking the tray of coffees and the bag of beignets. “I was expecting Brady.”
The guy nods, but his eyes don’t move from Judge and me. “He’s out sick today.”
Solana frowns but shoves a few dollar bills into his hand for a tip and thanks him again. The guy lingers for another second, and I think he and Judge are having a silent pissing contest, which is weird, but then he disappears.
Solana sets the coffees down and opens the bag of pastries so we can all dig in. But before I can even reach for one, Judge glances at me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I stare at him in disbelief. Okay, whatever has him worked up is clearly making him overly paranoid.
“We order from them all the time,” I assure him as I reach out and grab a pastry anyway. “Don’t be so surly.”
He tries to grab the pastry from my hand, and I taunt him with a smile as I shake my head and hold it up in the air. Georgie rolls his eyes.
“We’ve checked the ingredients exhaustively,” he says dryly. “They are aware of Mercedes’s allergy, and they don’t use peanuts in any of their products.”
Those words don’t seem to pacify Judge, so I gesture to my purse. “Don’t worry, okay? I have my EpiPen if I ever need it, but I won’t.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but there are some battles he’s just going to have to get used to losing. I want my damned beignet, and I’ve eaten from this place a million times. It’s not even an issue.
Before he can protest further, I stuff the doughy, sugary concoction into my mouth and take a bite. When I moan, Judge eyes me again like that annoys him too. Almost as if… dare I say it… that sound should be just for him.
Amusement makes me laugh, and powdered sugar falls from my fingers like snow as I nod to the bag. “Just try it. Then you’ll understand.”
He ignores my suggestion, and I can see he’s just biding his time here, so I take the opportunity to take a couple more big bites and then follow it up with a drink of too-hot coffee. I’m sure he’s going to insist we leave soon, and it makes me wonder what’s next on our agenda. But as I’m considering it, something tickles my throat, and I cough a couple of times, trying to rid myself of the feeling. But it only intensifies, even as I drink more coffee and nearly choke on it.
“Mercedes?” Concern seeps into Judge’s voice as he reaches for my face. “What is it?”
My blood pressure seems to plummet as I try to shake my head, assuring him it’s nothing, but I know it’s not. A wave of dizziness moves over me, and my throat feels tight. Too tight.
I reach for my purse, recognizing the symptoms of an allergic reaction I assured him I wouldn’t have, and Judge curses.
“Oh, God,” Georgie yelps at the same time Solana gasps. “Her face.”
I’m not getting enough oxygen. That much is obvious to anyone.
“Here, let me do it.” Solana tries to come around to help, but Judge seizes me and pulls me into his lap, tilting my head back.
“Get the goddamned EpiPen.”
My vision is blurry with tears, but I can see Solana’s trembling hand as she forks it over. “I can—”
Judge doesn’t listen. He grabs the pen, jams it against my thigh, and tries to inject it. But I don’t hear the telltale click, and he seems to be fighting with it as he digs it deeper, his voice betraying an edge of panic.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with this thing?”
“Let me try.” I hear Georgie’s voice fading like he’s underwater.
They both start fidgeting with it and then comes the thing I really don’t want to hear.
“There’s something wrong with it,” Georgie says. “This isn’t right.”
“Fuck!” Judge roars. “I’m calling the goddamned ambulance now.”
He lays me on the shop’s floor, and I try to look up at him, try to move to tell him it’s okay, but I can’t. I’m too sluggish. My throat feels like it’s almost completely closed, and it’s all I can do to focus on trying to drag in tiny gasps of air.
“I have another one!” Solana yells. “I have one here! It’s behind the counter.”
“Get it,” Judge pleads. “Get it right now.”
9
Judge
This is getting to be a bad habit. Mercedes passed out in my bed. Me watching her. Making sure she’s breathing. Never wanting to witness another incident like the one in Solana’s shop a few days ago.
I pick up her old phone again. Re-read the texts for the fucking hundredth time. Not that it makes any difference. I saw them when I switched it on after charging it to get her the number she claimed she was looking for when I caught her snooping. Pretty sure that was a lie anyway. It would be easy enough to get the number of her yoga instructor from either Solana or Georgie. The texts had been sent over the past several weeks, so for weeks, she’s been in danger, and what the fuck have I done? Didn’t even know about it.