“Whatever. Watch where you’re going.”
I sidestepped him. “Ditto, douchebag.”
He spun after me, and I dodged into the crowd, soon swept into the anonymous midst. Ha! Turned out this chaos had some perks.
My shirt was another story. I cursed the hulking man under my breath. I couldn’t drop my résumé off looking like this—though Jenny might have liked me better for it. She could have pretended it was the remnants of dog vomit.
Spotting a fast-food chain, I adjusted course. Montgomery’s had public bathrooms. Tommy told me about them in one of her drunken nightclub stories.
I sidled past queues of customers, wondering if they were aware they supported a corporation who had fingers in all sorts of pies—including what food laws were passed in government. When money was tight and junk food was cheaper than fruit and vegetables, of course the poor would eat it daily. And they had the health problems to prove it.
Shaking my head, I searched for a toilet and was rewarded by a sign in the far corner.
Success!
Smiling, I weaved between the chairs and tables and entered the female toilets. I scanned the toilet in no small degree of disgust. Yuck. There was water on the tiled floor. At least I hoped it was water. The place could do with a serious mop and a sea salt and saffron candle or three.
I pulled out handfuls of paper towel and dabbed at the stain on my shirt. He’d soaked the entire bottom half.
“Lucky silk dries fast,” I muttered.
A day before, I wouldn’t have given a thought to chucking the soiled shirt into my bathroom hamper that one or other of the half dozen maid staff emptied each day. Two days ago, I’d had a walk-in robe filled with clothing. Today, this shirt was one of the few things I had to my name.
I ended up removing the powder-blue garment to soak and wring the coffee out. I ignored the startled looks of the women going in and out of the toilet as I did my laundry in the sink of Montgomery’s. If they knew I’d slept on the street, they’d think twice about making eye contact.
Most of me was just thanking Zeus’s left nut that no one I knew came here, a sentiment which also pissed me off.
I swung the garment back on, buttoning the two halves and tucking the ends into my slacks.
There. That didn’t look so…
Crap. I looked like I’d done snow angels in a muddy puddle.
I’d just have to wait for it to dry and hope I’d gotten the stain out.
Washing my hands, I splashed some water on my face and surveyed my reflection. Topaz eyes stared back at me, asking what the hell I was doing.
“Good question, frenemy,” I told my reflection.
My eyes were too bright—on the harried side of energetic. My hair was on my side today though—apparently the only thing. The thick blonde mass formed natural barrel curls if left to air dry. I’d recently visited the salon and let my stylist put fresh highlights through the weighty length. Which was ideal timing because there was no way I could afford his prices on any of the jobs Tommy had circled in the paper.
Not liking what I saw in the mirror, I dried my face with more paper towels and left the toilet.
A weedy man cut me off as soon as I re-entered the seated eating area.
“Our toilets are for paying customers only,” he informed me, looking directly into my eyes.
I pulled up short. “I didn’t use your toilets. I just had to get a stain off my shirt.”
He grimaced. “Our water. And did you use paper towels?”
My fists clenched. “Are you serious? Tell me Montgomery’s is not that stingy.”
“We’re a business, madame. Not a charity,” he sneered.
I’d show him madame. My brows crept up as my hands came to my hips. I fixed him with my most quelling expression—one learned by studying my grandmother.
“Is that so?” I asked haughtily.
The weedy teen watched me with a bored expression. “I already said so, didn’t I? You need to buy something before you leave.”
“Or what?” I snapped, tossing my hair.
He sneered again. “Or I’ll call the police to escort you to the station. For trespassing.”
Seriously? Outrage swirled in my chest, and I did my best to keep a firm hold on it. Being arrested might hinder my efforts to get a job. And I had no bail money.
Why was this guy targeting me? I’d been into the city plenty. People were usually full of smiles and sunshine. Had I just encountered the only three assholes today?
… Or was it because I hadn’t arrived in a black car with tinted windows and a chauffeur?
I deflated. “Fine. What’s your cheapest item?”
His eyes sparked in triumph. “Our ice cream. It’s 100 percent organic.”
“You mean the supplier you use is called Organic.”
The teen’s guilty jerk confirmed that was the case.
“I’ll take one then.” I waved him off.
He pointed at the nearest queue. “Our meal artists will be happy to serve you.”
My jaw dropped. Now I had to wait in fucking line? This kid was outrageous.
I noted the smirk on his lips before he turned to berate the next person exiting the toilet. That had to be how Montgomery’s made their money. Using their toilets as a Venus flytrap to catch the innocent.
I stood in line, stewing in the injustice of it all. The irony of supporting the same corporation I’d just judged others for supporting didn’t escape me. I glared at the back of the weedy teen’s head. Greasy hair and a pimply neck. He probably only exerted his power here because he was bottom of the food chain in high school.
The thought made me feel a tad sorry for him. It also cut through my anger.
The teen’s back was to me…
I skirted my gaze to the automatic glass doors and back.
Didn’t need to tell me twice.
“Stop her,” the teen shouted as I bolted for the door.
I burst free and dashed down the stone steps, my pack thumping against my lower back. Luck was with me and the green man signal was flashing to cross to the next block.
Shouts rang after me, but I didn’t look back as I sprinted past the waiting cars.
Fuckers weren’t getting my money.
Uneasiness crept up my spine as I put more distance between me and Montgomery’s. They wouldn’t send coppers after me, would they? For something as small as that? There had to be cameras in there. They’d have a picture of my face.
I shook the thought away and dodged around a corner, lunging for the entrance alcove of a building.
Panting, I waited for five minutes in the alcove, but no handcuffs clamped down on my wrists.
Win. Hopefully.
I wiped sweat from my forehead, stepping aside as a young man entered the doors at my back. He smiled nervously at me, two sheets of paper in his grip.
“Dropping off your résumé?” I asked him, still breathing hard. I really needed to get back to the pool.
“No one ever gets a call from Live Right Realty, but can’t hurt to try, can it?” His lips crooked in a lopsided smile.
This was Live Right Realty? “Oh, I’m meant to be dropping my résumé here too.”
He held open the door, and I strode into the lobby, flashing a smile. Dark hair and dark eyes. Not my favourite combo, but I liked his style—a tight black tee and dark-blue jeans kind of guy, though I could see he had the ability to slip into a suit and tie without effort.