Fail Me (Florida Flowers Book 1) by Elodie Colt

Author:Elodie Colt [Colt, Elodie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hudson Indie Ink
Published: 2021-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Matthew

The pixels of the laptop screen burn into my retinas. For the first time in months, the number staring back at me is black instead of red. And the little minus in front that physically poked my eyeballs every time I dared a glance at my bank account has disappeared, too.

Five-thousand dollars transferred this morning. Way more than Christina offered me, and the week isn’t even over yet. Here, let me sweeten the deal for you, the four figures say. That’s what you’ll get if you hold your end of the bargain.

Blowing out the held-back air in my lungs, I sag back in my chair. Despite the heavy weight attached to my heart, something loosens inside me. A knot that has been growing in my stomach like a virus. An invisible load that has crumpled my back like the full bags of oranges I’ve been used to carrying since I was a kid. Unbelievable what enormous relief and hope money can bring.

I rub my bleary eyes, yawning. I spent the night fingering Mom’s engagement ring and replaying my kiss with Sam until I’ve branded every stroke of her tongue into my mind, before the first sun rays reminded me that our sweet moment is in the past where it should stay.

I clench my hands in an attempt to shake off the itch to pour myself an entire mug of cognac. One sip, and I’d fall asleep on the spot. I chug down a Coke instead, trying to wake my sluggish brain with a sugar boost as I click my way through some boring-as-fuck forecasts about global orange production and all the stuff that does the opposite of keeping me awake. Ultimately, I end up browsing through my cloud and open the picture.

Delete it, asshole. You owe it to Sam. And your maybe-future wife, mind you.

The little arrow on the screen hovers over the trash can icon just as my phone rings. It’s Sofia. I close the picture with a curse.

“Hey, Sofia,” I say groggily, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning, my boy. How are things in West Palm Beach?”

Intricate and supremely vexing. “Good. Lots of work to do,” I add as an excuse for my flat tone.

“Work that seems to pay off, it seems. This Ms. Robinson transferred five-thousand dollars to our bank account, did you see that?”

“Yeah. Make sure to pay Patrick’s salary first before you start with the overdue bills.”

“Of course,” she says hesitantly, and I know she’s about to launch into a lecture. “Boy, I might be old, but I’m not stupid. This is an insane sum of money. Don’t expect me to believe that trimming a few bushes earns you a grand per day.”

“I trimmed the bushes very neatly,” is my dry response, but Sofia stays stern, as usual.

“Matthew.” That threatening I’m-going-to-spank-you-when-you-get-home tone again. “I swear if I get wind of you doing anything remotely crooked, I’m going to—”

“I’m not.” Although, remotely crooked is undeniably apt in my case. “Let’s leave this conversation for later, okay? I’ll make my way back to Tampa in the evening.

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