Whipped (Hitched #2)(45)

She puts her tea down on the desk and flips through a folder. "You may have to pay fees."

"It's worth it."

She pinches her lips. "Anything I can say to change your mind?"

"Nope." I take another sip of tea. "But when I'm ready to buy, I hope you can be my agent."

That seems to put her at ease. "Of course." We conclude our business, and she starts making phone calls.

Next, I meet the owner at the gym and inspect the property. Some of the wallpaper is peeling, but otherwise it's in good shape. We barter on the price. I manage to save a grand based on the damages. The owner shakes my hand. "I'll send you the paperwork." He looks relieved the deal is almost over.

"Looking forward to it."

As the sun starts setting, I leave the gym, drop by a store, and drive to Kevin's. He's sitting on the sidewalk again, tossing his tennis ball. I hand him a new board, decorated in red and purple grunge art.

His hands shake as he takes it. "Dude, I said I didn't want a free board." By the excited look in his eyes, though, I can tell he doesn't really mean it.

"Good. Because I need your help."

His eyes stay on the board. "What do you need?"

"I'm putting on a fundraiser for the youth center. I need you and your friends to put on a show."

"You mean you need us to impress those suits?"

I grasp his shoulder. "Sure do. Think you can help me out, buddy?"

He finally looks away from the board and into my eyes. "No problem, Lach. I'll tell my friends. We'll make it happen."

"Thanks, dude." I pat him on the back, and we walk up the porch and into the house. Mary's sitting at the kitchen table, her face in her hands She leans her head back, noticing us. "Oh—hi, boys. Didn't hear you coming." Her eyes are red. She's been crying.

I sit down across from her. "What happened?"

"I just had a hard day, is all."

We don't talk of troubles. But when those troubles make my friend cry, I want to hear them. I want to help. "Mary, family doesn't knock. But you know what family does? Family helps each other."

She blows her nose into a napkin, then shakes her head rapidly. "You're right. So, I'll tell you. Bill fired me. Said a younger waitress would bring in more tips. Said I was too old." Her words turn into sobs. "I want to look younger, Lachlan. Why can't I look younger?"

I grab her hands and hold them gently. "You've had a hard life, Mary. I've known people who, in your position, would have lost themselves in a bottle years ago, would have given up on their kid. You haven't. Be proud of that. Be proud of who you are."

The sobs continue, but she smiles through them. "Thank you, my boy. Thank you."

I relax in my chair and grin. "Besides, I don't know what Bill's talking about. You're crying and you still look beautiful."

"Oh, shut it." Her cheeks grow redder. She may just be blushing. "Go on, now. I need to look up jobs tonight."

"I've got something," I say. "I've made progress on the center." And saved some money by pulling out of escrow. "Now I need a secretary."

She waves her hand dismissively. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can. Better than me, that's for sure."

She pauses and finally looks up from her hands. A small smile creeps in at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I suppose I can take the job." She tries to act casual, but I can see the hope flicker in her eyes and can tell this is a big deal for her. "Thank you, Lachlan."

I'll make sure she never has to wear high heels again.

Kevin groans in the corner. "Lach, you mean mom's gonna be at the center every day?"

Mary and I chuckle. I say goodbye, promising to drop by soon to discuss the details of her new job. She grins excitedly, all pretenses gone in the face of this new opportunity.

On the way home, I drive by Bill's Burger. The open sign is flickering. I've had to keep my distance in the past, for Mary's sake.

Not any f*cking more.

I park and jump out of the car, slamming the doors open as I enter the restaurant. A teenage couple sits in the corner. The place has a foul odor, like week-old meat. "Bill. Where the f*ck are you, Bill?"

A man speedwalks out from the back, mustard stains on his red shirt, his eyebrows thick and bushy. "What the hell’s goin—"

I grab his hand, twist it behind his back, and slam him facedown into a table. "What's going on, Bill, is your epiphany. You're about to realize that it's time to start treating your employees with respect. You're about to realize that there's consequences for being a dickwad. You following, Bill?"

Bill’s breath hitches, and I can feel the fight deflate out of him. "Uh-huh."

"Good. So, I'm going to let you go, and you'll rise a changed man. A respectful man. And if you ever revert to your dark ways, I'll be back. And if you ever even think of reporting this…" I squeeze his shoulder until he yelps. "…Just remember how many heath codes this place has violated." I knock his head against the table one more time and let go. I stride out, glowing with pride. Man, today has been productive.

Shit's getting done, bitches.