Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(13)

“Oh, and a new guy moved in next to you. 1D.”

I can’t control the bit of heat from crawling up my neck. “Yeah, Trent,” I say casually as I set the machine. Even his name out loud sounds hot. Trent. Trent. Trent. Stop it, Kace.

“Well, I haven’t talked to this Trent but I saw him and … wowza.” Her eyebrows waggle suggestively.

Great. My gorgeous Barbie neighbor thinks Trent is hot. All she has to do is adjust her shirt and she’ll have him on his knees. I realize my teeth are clenched painfully and I focus on releasing my muscles. She can have him and all the trouble he comes with. Why do you care, Kace?

Slamming the doors shut and hitting the on switch, Storm exhales deeply, blowing her long bangs off her face. “Are you going to be here for a while?” She glances at the newspaper and marker I’ve brought down with me. “Would you mind just turning my stuff over when it goes off? I mean, if you’re around and it’s not too much trouble.”

I look at her again, at her drawn skin and the purplish lines marring her pretty blue eyes and see just how worn she is. Young, single mom with a five year old and she works six days a week, up until three a.m. every night?

“Yeah, no problem.” That sounds like something a nice, normal person would do, I tell myself. Livie will be proud of me.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

I notice that she’s biting her lip and her shoulders are pinched together and it dawns on me that she’s nervous. Asking for my help likely took her a ton of courage and she must be desperate enough to do it. Realizing that makes me want to slam my head into a wall. Clearly, I haven’t tried very hard to be approachable, like I promised Livie I would. And Storm’s nice. Really, genuinely nice.

“Why, Ma’am, I reckon it’d be my honor to wash your drawers,” I drawl in a fake southern accent, picking up the paper to fan myself with it.

Her face lights up with surprise as she giggles. She opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Me having a sense of humor has floored her. Dammit, Livie’s right. I am an ice queen.

I quickly add, “Besides, I owe you for last week. It’s the least I can do after pulling out Hannah—the dirtiest of all weapons.” I smile and it’s not forced. “I’ll just be going through the jobs section so I may as well do that in this paradise.”

She frowns. “Starbucks not working out?” Livie must have told her because I sure didn’t.

“It’s fine, but the pay’s shit. If I want to live of Spam and scrape blue spots off of bread for the rest of my life, I can make it work.”

She nods, thinking. “You guys should come over for dinner tonight.” I open my mouth to decline the charity and she adds, “as my thanks to Livie for taking care of Mia today.” There’s something in that tone, a mixture of forced bravery, but also a level of natural authority that makes me slam my mouth shut.

“And …” she shifts her feet a bit hesitantly, like she’s not sure if she should say what’s on her mind, “… do you know how to mix drinks?”

“Uh …” I blink rapidly at the sudden change in topic. “Isn’t it a little early in the day for that?”

She smiles, her perfect teeth gleaming. “Like martinis and Long Islands?”

“I pour a mean tequila shot.” I offer half-heartedly.

“Well, I can talk to my boss and see if he’ll hire you, if you’re interested. I bartend at a club. The money’s good.” Her eyes widen with those last words. “Like, really good.”

“Bartender, huh?”

She grins. “So, what do ya think?”

Could I handle it? I don’t say anything, trying to picture myself behind a bar. The visual ends with me smashing a bottle and kicking a grabby customer in the head.

“I should probably warn you, though.” She hesitates. “It’s an adult club.”

I feel the frown line zip across my forehead. “Adult like …”

“Strippers.”

“Oh …” Of course. I look down at myself. “Yeah, I’m a ‘keep clothes on in crowds’ kind of girl.”

Storm’s hands wave my words away. “No, don’t worry. You wouldn’t have to strip. I promise.”

Me? Work in a strip club? “You think I’d fit in, Storm?”

“Can you handle being surrounded by sex, booze, and loads of cash?”

I shrug. “Sounds like my teenage years, minus the cash.”

“Can you learn how to smile a bit more?” she asks with a nervous giggle.

I flash her my best fake grin.

She nods with approval. “Good. I think you’ll do well behind the bar. You have a look they’ll like.”

I snort. “What look? The ‘I just got off a bus from Michigan and I’ll do anything for money so I don’t have to eat Spam’ look?”

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she giggles. “Think about it and let me talk to my boss. It’s really good money. You wouldn’t have to eat Spam again. Ever.” With that, she skips up the stairs.

I think about it. I think about it as I watch Storm and Mia’s clothes spin around in circles. I think about it as the timer goes off and I flip the clothes over into the dryer and start two new loads. I think about it as I sort and fold their freshly clean clothes into neat piles and reload the hamper, paying a little too much attention to the skimpy outfits in Storm’s pile. Like a tiny black top that looks like a cross between a sequined sports bra and something a wild animal mangled. I hold it up. Does she serve drinks or her body in this? That would explain her ridiculous boobs. Wow. I might be making friends with a stripper. That’s sounds weird. And then I acknowledge that I’m going through her underwear. That sounds way weirder.