Page 63 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“Next week,” I said. “Monday.”

Brandon stood and held out his hand.

I took it, feeling like I’d just sold my soul to Satan.

“I’ll start you off with the Betties,” he said.

“The who?”

“Betty Rogan and Betty Lindor. They smell like moth balls and have more wrinkles than a starved elephant, but they pay double so they can work out together and ogle the guys. They’ll love you. Start you off decent money-wise, too. They’ll ask you to lunch your first day. Go with them. They’ll pay your rent for May. Here,” he said, holding out a small booklet and another piece of paper. “This is our policy handbook and the contract. The handbook talks about your pay and commission. Don’t tell me about your tips. I don’t want to know how much you make or how you get them. A perk of working at Iron E.”

So that’s how he keeps his employees. He’s actually a fucking pimp.

“Thanks,” I said, rolling the papers and stuffing them in my back pocket. “See you Monday.”

I dodged Tiffany without acknowledging her and walked across the empty gym, pushing out of the glass door. The sky was dark, and small ponds had formed in the parking lot, reflecting the tall lights that peppered the plaza. The Camry sat in the center of one of the larger pools.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath, pulling my keys out. I fished out my phone from the other pocket and looked at the display. I’d missed four calls.“Fuck!”I growled, dialing and holding the phone to my ear.

“Travis?!” Abby said, sounding panicked.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. Brandon talked forever and I couldn’t find a good place to tell him to shut the fuck up, and—”

“Oh, my God. No, it’s fine. I was just … nothing, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. Feds are sniffing around, the weather is shit, you know I hate Brandon and I’m not answering. I could’ve been arrested, in a wreck, or fired before I got the job. I don’t blame you, babe. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just … come home. I miss you.”

“On my way. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Travis?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. I have a bad feeling.”

“I will Pidge. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes and I’ll hold you the rest of the night.”

She sighed. “Okay. See you soon.”

Chapter Fifteen

Not Bad for a Girl

Abby

THUNDER ROLLED, SHAKING THE WINDOWSof the apartment. Shepley and America were on the couch, watching a cheesy rom com—America’s choice, of course—and I was standing next to the kitchen sink, lost in thought, staring at the messages on my cellphone.

Travis was at the gym, and even though he knew about my plans, I’d purposefully kept him out of the details. He felt guilty enough that I was going to play poker again, this time to save his ass instead of Mick’s.

“Mare?” I said, drying my hands.

“Yep,” she said, groaning and stretching as she stood. She lazily walked over to me, peering out the window. “Ugh, I’m so over the rain. It’s been gray for days.” She yawned as she spoke her next thought, “It makes me feel exhausted.”

“I need some advice.”

“Sure,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against the counter. “Whatcha got?”