Page 36 of Wanted Beta

I give him a few seconds to see if he’s going to tell me what happened to make his day so weird, but he just lets out a weary sigh as he lets his hair fall back into place.

It’s a long day when you’re doing something that feels pointless.

That’s why I’m not going to be handing out the next batch of flyers.

Enzo can take away my phone, but he can’t stop me from making money.

Jack gazes at me silently as I put the record bag over my shoulder.

I’m not sure what’s on his mind, but clearly there’s something.

“Go home,” I tell him. “We can talk later.”

He nods and leaves, passing me his receipt for the copies.

I wait around for them impatiently.

When the copy guy comes to the counter with the boxed stack, he blinks at me.

“Oh, hey, uh … um …”

“Gio,” I tell him, as I pass him the receipt. “Jack had to go home. I’ll take these.”

He checks the receipt and nods. “No problem. You need a bag, or …”

“Jack gave me his,” I tell him, taking the box out of his hands and putting it into the bag.

There’s some weight in there now, and I’m tempted to go straight to the nearest trash can.

The flyers aren’t working, but I know what will.

I check my watch before I plan out my trip to the nearest casino.

It’s time to make some real money to advertise the restaurant properly.

Chapter Fourteen

Jack

Iwalk back toward the restaurant in a daze. I feel almost naked without the record bag I’m so used to carrying around for school, and more recently for distributing those flyers. I’m almost always carrying something around with me. My guitar, for some of my classes and for gigs. Amplifiers and other equipment when I need them.

I’m used to holding onto the strap of something.

Without any of that stuff, I feel the need to fidget.

I stuff my hands into my pockets.

I scratch at my forearms.

Eventually, I hug my arms to my chest.

That’s when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.

It’s a relief to have something to do with my hands as I walk.

I get it out and answer Arrow’s call quickly.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, as I narrowly avoid being smacked in the face by a fast-walking woman’s giant purse.

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