Page 44 of Unhinged

My eyes widen because my mouth refuses to respond. Amos laughs. “She’s shy.” Hardly.

Milt moves closer, and I panic. He clears his throat with a loogie and chokes on it, making a gurgling sound.

I shriek, “Oh, my God! Disgusting!”

He blinks and is vacant. “Huh?”

I turn to Amos. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Amos chuckles, and I want to smack his bald head. “I’m here. Don’t worry.” He then goes to a box, and I stick to Amos like we’re handcuffed. He gives me an amused look before cutting into a cardboard box on the counter. I try to watch Milt, but that’s an issue since he’s hideous.

Amos announces, “T-shirts for everyone. Simone, there are a few extras here.” He checks out the sizes and hands me a white shirt with Platform 69 written in dark blue and a black train beneath it. Sweet Jesus.

“That’s the name of this place?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. It’s not a fucking train depot.

“I thought it was more appealing than Amy’s.”

“But 69?”

“Amy’s birth month and day—June ninth. Kind of creative.”

“And hugely sexual.” Across the room, Milt laughs, and it’s jarring.

Almost embarrassed, Amos grins. “We know that. Sex sells, though.” What the hell?

“Oh. Well, then.” Greg will just love this shit. Good.

Milt says, “I offered Amos and Amy’s, but they didn’t like it.” As I scowl at the shirt and Amos digs out more, Milt asks, “Are you old enough to be in a bar?”

I avoid eye contact as I check out the lame shirt. “I’ll be twenty-three soon.”

“Ahh,” he says, like that satisfies him. I risk looking at Milt and regret I did. He smiles, and I want to call 911. “Are you from around here?”

“No. Originally Delaware.”

He nods like I’m acing his test, and it scares the shit out of me. I turn back to Amos. “What do you want me to do with this shirt?”

Amos’s bald head wrinkles as he thinks about it. “Put it on?”

“Um,” I start, only seeing a small hallway. “Where’s the restroom?”

Milt says, “I can show you.”

I immediately answer, “No, thank you.” I’d rather strip for Amos.

Amos nods to the hallway. “It’s on the right down that hall. You can hang your coat in the locker room across from the bathroom.”

“Thanks,” I answer, regretting coming here tonight. The women’s restroom is small, with a loud running toilet and a dripping sink. Nothing but class here. What the hell did I get myself into?

Triple-checking the door to ensure it’s locked, I still don’t trust it, so I skip the toilet and lean against the door to change my shirt.

Pulling the shirt down, I notice it’s tight over my chest. I risk stepping away from the door to look in the mirror. “Son of a bitch,” I mutter. I pinch the shirt but accidentally pinch my boob. It’s not that I’m opposed to wearing revealing clothes. Still, this shirt isn’t sexy, especially with the train image looking as if it’s speeding off my tit.

When I return to the kitchen, Amos is gone, but Milt remains, leering at me. I panic. “Where’s Amos?”

Returning to his magazine, Milt says, “Took a call.”

“Oh.” I head for the bar since I don’t want to be alone back here with Milt. But before reaching the door, a question pops into my head, and I turn around. Expecting Milt to be staring at my ass, I see him reading his magazine instead. I ask, “Who else are we working with tonight?”

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