Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
That would’ve been a great time to leave, but I wasn’t there for Saylor, and I also wasn’t there for Katie. Giovanni was still at his table, tracing designs on his girlfriend’s palm. I wasn’t leaving until they did.
“Can’t believe her,” Katie hissed. “Hooking up with Dean? And she calls me a bad friend.”
“Mmm-hhm.”
Giovanni raised a hand, signaling for the waiter. I sat up straighter.
“She just will not get it through that bleached head that she doesn’t get to tell me what to do with my life.”
“Yep, she sucks,” I said absentmindedly.
“She was always like that, you know. Since preschool.” The waiter came to us first, carrying those bottles. Katie downed a glass before he got to Giovanni’s table. “She had to be the queen, or the boss, or the princess, or fairy. She made the rules, and if we tried to go off and play without the tyrant, we didn’t get invited to her super summer slumber party.”
“Princess fairy queen of the tyrants.”
“Here, Maurice.” Giovanni handed over his credit card. “We’ll also take some chocolate-covered strawberries to go.”
Annika giggled, delighting in how hot, rich, and privileged she was. How did I know? I just fucking did.
Acid burned my throat watching them. Giovanni was everything women fooled themselves into believing they wanted. Long, luscious hair. Strong nose. Olive sun-kissed skin. Full, smirking lips. And his demon mistress, Annika, was so pretty it hurt to look at her. Waves and waves of chestnut hair fell around her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face and flinty eyes.
Maurice returned. “I’m sorry, sir. Your card was declined. Do you have another form of payment?”
“Declined?” Giovanni repeated. “You made a mistake. Run it again.”
Maurice remained where he was. “There was no mistake, sir. I must ask for another form of payment.”
“Fine, whatever.” He pulled another from his wallet. “Use this.”
“—acts like we’re so lucky to be in her presence.” Katie’s rant was going full steam. “I wasn’t kidding when I said no one likes her. You should hear the stuff Everleigh, Piper, and Gabriella say behind her back.”
My ears perked up. I should hear what they say.
“But I would never tell you,” Katie continued, “because when I promise to keep a secret, I don’t go back on my word like a frigid bitch!”
“Get over it,” Saylor threw back. “Ahmed bragged about it to the entire football team. Everyone but Piper knew, and it’s about time she figured out you’re nothing but a slut!”
“You’re calling me a slut when you slept with my boyfriend.”
“Guys,” Piper spoke up, eyes suspiciously bright. I don’t think she was quite as prepared for the news as Saylor believed.
“Now he’s your boyfriend? What happened to slumming it with the Dreg for a few O cocktails?”
“Sir, I regret to inform you this card was declined too.”
My attention snapped back to Giovanni.
“There is a one-hundred-thousand-dollar limit on that card,” Giovanni forced through gritted teeth. “It can’t be declined. Run. It. Again.”
Maurice dipped his head, ever the polite employee. “Of course, sir.”
Off to the register and then back again. This was my favorite game of ping-pong ever.
“Declined again. Do you have another—?”
“It can’t be declined. If it’s not going through, there’s something wrong with your machine.”
Katie paused the war and turned to see what I was looking at. Saylor and her crew did too, then the entire back room of Toussaint’s stopped talking, watching the show.
“I’m afraid not, sir,” Maurice said patiently. “We’ve had no issues with the card reader tonight. It is only yours that have been declined.”
“Excuse me? What are you trying to say, you minimum-wage, cheap-cologne-stinkin’ moron?”
Annika flapped her hands, trying to get Giovanni back in his seat.
“I’ve got more money tucked in my sock than you see in a year. If I say your machine is broken, it’s fucking broken.”
A man with thinning hair and a three-piece gray suit hurried out from the direction of the kitchen. I pegged him as the manager.
“Hello, my name is Mr. Shaw. I’m the manager.”
Bingo.
“Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can resolve it.”
Giovanni shoved Maurice. “This fool said I can’t pay my bills.”
Shaw jumped in front of his employee. “There’s no need for that. Maurice did not intend—”
“Everyone heard it. I come here almost every night. He knows who I am and that I can cover my bills, but instead of admitting the card reader’s broken, he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends and girlfriend.”
Maurice spoke up. “I apologize for any offense.”
“I want him fired,” Giovanni said without sparing him a look. “Get rid of him, or none of us will eat here again.”
I cleared my throat, swiveling the spotlight to me. “Before an innocent man loses his livelihood, why don’t we make sure the card reader is broken, and this is not a tantrum thrown by some broke loser who thinks kicking up enough of a fuss will get his meal comped.”