The Contract by Raven J. Spencer

Author:Raven J. Spencer [Spencer, Raven J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The weekend came and went with a moderate amount of tip, and me wondering how many patrons grabbing my ass I’d indulge before I’d quit. At the drugstore, we hadn’t heard anything about the possible sale of the building yet, no news good or bad. I’d have to wait until I knew something final before giving up the second job.

For now, I enjoyed being able to do grocery without panicked calculating. I was careful, but I allowed myself more fresh food, and took more time to cook. Wednesday evening, a familiar and unwelcome sensation jolted me out of my rhythm. Damn it. I had hoped to make it to Saturday, so the Fridays would be clear.

That hope had clearly been premature.

On top of it, Taylor sent me a text message. Thinking of Friday. I have plans for you.

I’m sorry. I can’t this Friday I texted back.

Why?

I stared at the screen for a long time, and eventually decided to go with a joke. It’s the blood curse. Then I got way ahead of myself. Maybe she’d like to have dinner anyway? Stay at the hotel as usual, have breakfast together? That would give us a chance to talk more. If I was careful, perhaps she’d tell me about the girl she used to bring to the museum afternoons with her mom?

Time went by, five minutes, then ten, then half an hour.

I went to rinse my dinner dishes in the sink, took a shower, and brushed my teeth. Finally, there was a new message.

All it said was: OK.

I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears rolled down my face. I was stubborn though—I’d chalk it all up to hormones. Next Friday would be the usual.

* * * *

Strange how quickly you could form new habits. On Friday afternoon I was restless, feeling like I’d forgotten something. I could have taken the time to relax, clean the apartment or read a book—instead I called the bistro to ask if I could come in for an extra shift. They had a few groups this evening, so my offer was welcome.

Soon I was too busy to fret about the text and what it could mean, juggling dishes and receipts back and forth. I was hopeful that another night could add nicely to my cushion. I would have to talk to Taylor about this subject after all. Whenever one of us wasn’t available on a Friday for this particular reason, I could work—likewise, we could switch to another day. I could go to her apartment, or she could come to mine if she didn’t want to pay for a hotel every time.

We knew what we were in for, so perhaps it would be okay to loosen the rules some, if it was more convenient for us.

“Hey, Daisy. I didn’t know you were working here.”

It wasn’t until then that I recognized Layla who had come in with a group of friends.

“Only on the weekends,” I said. “You guys have a reservation?”

The man who had his arm around her, Layla’s boyfriend, I assumed, gave me his name.

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