Page 78 of One Good Crash

Or so I thought.

"Your mom," he said, "she's a gold-digger."

My mouth tightened.Okay, this was probably true, but did he seriously have to rub it in?I muttered,"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. And that's putting it nicely."

"As opposed to what?" My chin lifted. "Calling her a whore?" That word, even on my own lips, sounded so very wrong, and immediately, I wanted to take it back. But his implication had been clear enough.

And I'dwantedto shock him.

The only problem was, he didn't look shocked at all. He replied, "You said it. Not me."

"Oh, so youarecalling her that?"

"You want me to be blunt?" He gave a tight shrug. "Alright. Yeah, your mom's a whore."

My mouth fell open, and I jumped to my feet. "What the hell?"

Still seated, he continued, "And I don't mean figuratively. I mean, she has sex for money."

I was glaring at him now. "Youdidn'tjust say that." Was I being a hypocrite?Maybe.But just becauseI'dsaid it, that didn't mean thatheshould. She wasn'thismom, after all.

He gave a low scoff. "What, you want me to use nicer words?"

"No," I said. "I want you to take them back entirely."

"Yeah?" he said, looking annoyingly calm in the face of my wrath. "You wanna know whatIwant?"

"No."

He continued as if I hadn't spoken. "I want you to listen, because you asked, and I'm not done." He pointed to my chair. "So have a seat. This might take a while."

"That's whatyouthink," I said, "because I've heard more than enough already." I turned to go, intending to march out with my head held high.

But that didn't happen. And why? Because, like some kind of fiendish fisherman from hell, he tossed out the one piece of bait that I couldn't resist. "Ten minutes," he said. "Give me that, and I'll interview your friend."

I was halfway to the door when his words sunk in. My steps faltered, and I slowly turned to look. He was standing now, looking noticeably less civilized than he had just moments earlier.

I felt myself swallow. His cheeks were pale, and his muscles were bulging.

Once again, my thoughts turned to the bloodstained shirt from the night before. For the hundredth time, I wondered what exactly had been going on.

If I were smart, I'd leave and never look back – not because I was afraid, but because he was acting like such a jerk. And really, did I evenwantAllie to work for a guy like this? Someone who'd say something so completely awful and then refuse to take it back?

But the answer came way too fast.

Yes.

I would.

Allie's last boss had been the biggest jerk on the planet. And the money hadn't been half as good, even though the hours were absolutely insane.

I felt my gaze narrow. "When you say interview, do you mean you'll give her a fair shot?"

"As fair as she deserves."

At this, I had to scoff. "Do you mean for someone who showed up and cursed out your brother? Or for someone who tore up your house?"