the answer to that question.
I humor him. “Yep.”
“And you’ve liked how many boys?”
“You would be the only one.”
“And I’m easy.” He turns and smacks his hand on the counter. “Jerry, serve up two milkshakes, chocolate. We’re celebrating.”
The thought of food makes my head swim. I didn’t have breakfast. Or probably dinner last night.
“I’m going to bulge in my sequins tonight, but it’s worth it.” Zero presses his hands against his belly. He has the tiniest roll that bothers him. Just not enough to give up sugar. “So tell me about this boy.”
“He rides a motorcycle.”
“Dangerous. I love it.”
I pick at my jeans. “He works out at the gym.”
“Aha. Now I see the interest in the job.”
“Something about him … reminds me of my dad.”
Zero sobers. “A daddy thing. Interesting. I’m guessing that’s what makes it work.”
Jerry pushes two tall glasses at us. They’re frosty and cold, and a cherry balances on top of the swirl of chocolate.
I take a long drink, the combo of sweet and cold making me want to swoon. This crappy day keeps improving. “He pulled me out of this swarm of jerkoffs.”
Zero pauses, his mouth inches from the straw. “What are you talking about? Did somebody come after you?”
“It was outside the pawn shop. Nothing happened.”
“You were at a pawn shop?” He clutches at my wrist. “Don’t tell me you sold Grandmama’s necklace.”
I should have kept my mouth shut. “Zero, I had to.”
“I TOLD you to ask me for money. I TOLD you not to sell that.” He whips around to face the counter, like he can’t look at me. “Where is it? I’m going to go get it.”
“I’ll buy it back.” I point to the sign. “First paycheck.”
He takes a long pull on his shake, frowning. “You don’t know you’re going to get that job. You don’t know what it pays. You don’t know anything.”
“I do. I can feel it.” And I do. It’s a tingle, like something has changed. Like the world is saying, Rock bottom is over, baby. You just made it.
Zero glances at me sideways. “You do seem like a different girl.” He turns back to me. “I tell you what. March over there with all this magic on your face. Get that job.” He reaches over to smooth back my hair. “But let me fix this mess first. You might see The Man.”
“Not before I drink this!” I pick up the cold glass and clink it against his. “To employment.”
He nods. “To better days for Jo Jo.”
Chapter 3
Unlike the pawn shop, there is no reflection in the dark door of the gym. The glass is all painted black. I have no idea what’s in there.
But I do know my hair is what Zero called “athletically fabulous.” He’s devised some loose, low ponytail with tendrils around my face.
I’m about to open the door when it pushes wide. I jump back, and the biggest man who’s ever been two feet from me stops dead.
“Sorry, miss,” he says. His voice is so teddy-bear soft that my panic slips away.
He’s monstrous, filling the whole doorframe. His shoulders are wide enough that I could fit my apartment between them.
He holds the door open for me like I’m a princess rather than a pauper. I nod my thanks and scoot inside.
It’s dim, but the smell is so familiar that it’s like stepping into my past. It’s lemony, like the spray polish my grandma would use on the furniture in her house when I was a kid. The floors are shiny, and everything seems freshly scrubbed.
It’s like Grandma’s been here. Like she prepared it just for me.
I glance at the ceiling, as though she might be watching. Then I steady myself with a deep breath. To the right is a small counter. Nobody’s behind it. I’m in a front room, but it opens into a bigger one filled with benches and weights. The clang of metal filters through the doorway.
There’s a hallway behind the counter with a couple small doors. Could be offices. Could be a locker room. I can’t imagine walking in on a bunch of
I humor him. “Yep.”
“And you’ve liked how many boys?”
“You would be the only one.”
“And I’m easy.” He turns and smacks his hand on the counter. “Jerry, serve up two milkshakes, chocolate. We’re celebrating.”
The thought of food makes my head swim. I didn’t have breakfast. Or probably dinner last night.
“I’m going to bulge in my sequins tonight, but it’s worth it.” Zero presses his hands against his belly. He has the tiniest roll that bothers him. Just not enough to give up sugar. “So tell me about this boy.”
“He rides a motorcycle.”
“Dangerous. I love it.”
I pick at my jeans. “He works out at the gym.”
“Aha. Now I see the interest in the job.”
“Something about him … reminds me of my dad.”
Zero sobers. “A daddy thing. Interesting. I’m guessing that’s what makes it work.”
Jerry pushes two tall glasses at us. They’re frosty and cold, and a cherry balances on top of the swirl of chocolate.
I take a long drink, the combo of sweet and cold making me want to swoon. This crappy day keeps improving. “He pulled me out of this swarm of jerkoffs.”
Zero pauses, his mouth inches from the straw. “What are you talking about? Did somebody come after you?”
“It was outside the pawn shop. Nothing happened.”
“You were at a pawn shop?” He clutches at my wrist. “Don’t tell me you sold Grandmama’s necklace.”
I should have kept my mouth shut. “Zero, I had to.”
“I TOLD you to ask me for money. I TOLD you not to sell that.” He whips around to face the counter, like he can’t look at me. “Where is it? I’m going to go get it.”
“I’ll buy it back.” I point to the sign. “First paycheck.”
He takes a long pull on his shake, frowning. “You don’t know you’re going to get that job. You don’t know what it pays. You don’t know anything.”
“I do. I can feel it.” And I do. It’s a tingle, like something has changed. Like the world is saying, Rock bottom is over, baby. You just made it.
Zero glances at me sideways. “You do seem like a different girl.” He turns back to me. “I tell you what. March over there with all this magic on your face. Get that job.” He reaches over to smooth back my hair. “But let me fix this mess first. You might see The Man.”
“Not before I drink this!” I pick up the cold glass and clink it against his. “To employment.”
He nods. “To better days for Jo Jo.”
Chapter 3
Unlike the pawn shop, there is no reflection in the dark door of the gym. The glass is all painted black. I have no idea what’s in there.
But I do know my hair is what Zero called “athletically fabulous.” He’s devised some loose, low ponytail with tendrils around my face.
I’m about to open the door when it pushes wide. I jump back, and the biggest man who’s ever been two feet from me stops dead.
“Sorry, miss,” he says. His voice is so teddy-bear soft that my panic slips away.
He’s monstrous, filling the whole doorframe. His shoulders are wide enough that I could fit my apartment between them.
He holds the door open for me like I’m a princess rather than a pauper. I nod my thanks and scoot inside.
It’s dim, but the smell is so familiar that it’s like stepping into my past. It’s lemony, like the spray polish my grandma would use on the furniture in her house when I was a kid. The floors are shiny, and everything seems freshly scrubbed.
It’s like Grandma’s been here. Like she prepared it just for me.
I glance at the ceiling, as though she might be watching. Then I steady myself with a deep breath. To the right is a small counter. Nobody’s behind it. I’m in a front room, but it opens into a bigger one filled with benches and weights. The clang of metal filters through the doorway.
There’s a hallway behind the counter with a couple small doors. Could be offices. Could be a locker room. I can’t imagine walking in on a bunch of
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