I would never get to be a cosmetologist. I would finish school and go to work for the family company, in financials. Even the thought made me nauseous. Cutthroat businessman I was not.
“We’ll pretend I don’t know you’re changing the subject. I didn’t live to seventy-three without learning a thing or two.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Else.”
I’d already played the piano for the day, so I finished Elsie’s makeup—she was my only regular; the other ladies were hit-and-miss—before packing up for the day. She hugged me, and I said goodbye, feeling pretty good about her look and, well, being there at all. It was the one thing I really appreciated about how I’d been raised. They’d always made me get involved in so many things, it was automatic for me to do it as an adult, and out of that, I realized how much I liked volunteering and helping people.
“Hey, you,” I heard from behind me as I was finishing. I turned around to see Bonnie, one of the CNAs. She was in her late forties or early fifties, with cinnamon-colored hair and kind eyes. I didn’t know what it was about her, but we’d hit it off instantly. Sometimes she’d take her lunch while I was playing, or if afterward, we’d hang out and talk.
I thought maybe she was a little lonely sometimes. Maybe that was why we hit it off. I knew she was kind and funny and liked me. She also was real big on doing things to make you happy and always talking to me about beauty and following my dreams or I’d regret it one day. It made me wonder if she had things in her past she regretted.
“How’s it going?” I gave her a quick hug.
“Not too bad. I’m glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to invite you to dinner at my house on Friday.”
Warmth spread through my chest. I didn’t know a lot about Bonnie, only that she lived with her adult son, but eventually wanted to get her own apartment. I figured there had to be a story behind why she stayed with him, but she hadn’t offered it, and I would never pry. “Your son won’t mind?”
She waved a hand at me as if I was being silly. “Of course not. Why would he mind? I just…I don’t know. I guess it’s a little funny, but I enjoy your company. It’s like I have another son, and so I thought it might be nice if the two of you met. I’m always rambling about the sweet boy who does my makeup.”
My cheeks heated, both because of the compliment and because she said I was like a son to her. I would have loved to have a relationship with my own mom like I had with Bonnie, which was weird, since really, we didn’t know each other all that well. “Yeah, I’d love to,” I told her, meaning it. It wasn’t like I had a bunch of other things going on.
We exchanged phone numbers, she texted me her address, and we said our goodbyes. Then I headed to the grocery store, just to stay out of the apartment some. Maybe I’d take a cooking class over the summer. Could be fun, and I would have time to fit something like that in before I went back to school.
About an hour later, I pulled my BMW SUV into the garage at my apartment complex. I hated driving something that big, but my mom had insisted since it was safe, and like always, I obeyed.
I carried the bags inside, rode the elevator up, put everything away, and then…nothing.
It was so strange how you could get so used to having someone else there. When I moved to Portland, I was nineteen years old, away from home for the first time, and hadn’t known anyone. I moved into the area and the apartment Mom insisted on, even though it wasn’t really me. It was all paid for with the inheritance my dad left me, which Mom had access to until I was twenty-five. She didn’t use the money, but she could see on the account if she wanted and was notified of larger chunks of money I spent.
Initially, I hadn’t cared about any of that. It had been exciting to be on my own—well, except when it wasn’t, but that was because I was weird and had issues.
But then I met Jesse. We bonded over coffee and makeup, and eventually he moved in. Jesse was magnetic, had endless energy, and now my apartment sometimes felt too empty, too quiet without him.
Too lonely.
Hell, it had only been a little over two weeks since he left. It was too early to start that line of thinking now, so I shoved those thoughts away.
I hadn’t slept very well the night before. I’d had one of my stupid nightmares. Brains were annoying sometimes.
Not wanting to sit around an empty apartment by myself, I decided to walk down the block to It’s a Buzz, the coffeehouse close to the community college Jesse went to.
I grabbed my laptop, stuffed it in my case, and was on my way. It was always busy, and I could people watch. Maybe I could wear myself out there long enough that I could get a good night’s sleep.
2
Jake
“Who the hell snatched my lunch?” I rumbled as my gaze scanned the shelves of the compact fridge. I was part owner of TJ’s garage with my best friend Tucker, and we employed a couple of mechanics as well as someone to run the front office. “I mean, I know my mom makes a mean turkey Swiss, but this is ridiculous.”
Of course, the guys were just messing with me. Tucker, especially, loved to pull pranks. But this time I’d gotten to the shop to open at six a.m., had skipped breakfast, and was starving, so I was not in the mood for jokes.
“Stop freaking out.” Mia bounded into the break room, donning yellow rubber gloves. “I cleaned the fridge because you guys are pigs. And don’t even get me started on the bathroom. I don’t know how any of you guys keep any ladies around.”
Mia was Tucker’s cousin. She pretty much ran the place and was also an apprentice in training. Having a woman mechanic show Tad and Brett up didn’t always go over well—because she could show them up—but they were softening to the idea. And I gave them shit about it too because my childhood was fucking rocky as hell and I’d seen enough misogyny to last a lifetime. But Mia was fierce, and without her we’d have way too much testosterone around here.
“The ladies don’t care as long as I keep giving them good pipe,” Tad said, making a ridiculous thrusting motion.
“Can they even find it? More like a pipe cleaner,” Mia replied, zeroing right in on his crotch, and Brett and Tucker cracked up.
But I was still cranky because I was hungry, so I grumbled and searched for my damned food.
“I put your lunch on the counter.” She pointed to the brown paper bag my mom had handed me this morning.
“Thanks.” I got shit for that as well—living with my mom. But by now, these guys knew our history. How my dad would go on drunken tirades mostly berating her but sometimes smacking her around too when I was a kid. Until I graduated high school and used the last two years of weight training to my advantage, giving the asshole a bloody nose and a few choice words before I’d bolted to the car where I’d asked Mom to wait.
I’d already placed a down payment on a shitty apartment across town before we left, and thankfully, we haven’t seen the bastard since we took off that night. Even though they’d never officially married, Dad considered their relationship to be common law. Except Oregon didn’t recognize such a union, so Mom never had to go through a messy divorce. Word on the street was that Dad had gotten himself cleaned up, met someone new, and moved away from Portland to be with her. I prayed that was true, though I wouldn’t wish life with that jackass on anyone. Tucker had even driven by the house for us and assured Mom he’d seen an empty house and a FOR SALE sign.