Page 5 of The Prez

When he’s gotten himself under control, Jace looks at me with wide eyes. “Prez, I’m honored. But can we talk about this another time? I’m not … it’s strange thinking of someone else besides Christian as VP. Even if it’s me.”

I incline my head. “We still have to put it to vote, but I was thinking that could wait a few weeks. Think about it, okay?”

“Okay, Prez.”

I finish the beer in my hand and drink one more with my brothers before I’ve had enough. I knock on the bar and pat Zeke and Jace’s shoulders. “I’m going to crash here. I’m good,” I say when Zeke starts to stand. “I wanna be alone. Too much noise out here.” An unexpected lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. Crying solves nothing. Not for me. My tears have done nothing but make me feel worse. “It’s been a long day. I want to rest.”

“You got it, Prez. Holler if you need us,” Zeke says, standing and slapping hands with me, clapping me on the back when he pulls me in for a one-armed hug. “We’ll be here for another hour or so. Shane and I would hang out longer, but we gotta take Zeus out.”

A small smile crops up on my face, a rare display. Shane and Zeke treat their dog, Zeus, like their child. I’m surprised they left him alone this long. “No worries. Good night.”

I bid others good night as I make my way to my room. It’s been a long day and I need sleep so I can forget it happened. Lock up the hollow feeling of loss and push it to the deep recesses of my mind where this kind of pain can’t affect me.

Once inside my room, I shut and lock the door, then flop on my bed and lie on my back. I stare at the ceiling, letting my emotions flow through me. One of my best friends died. I have to add this loss to the running tally of my dead, eachone chipping away at a piece of my soul. When I’m done with this thing called life, how much will be left?

I shake away that morose thought. Life is about love and loss or some shit. Not wallowing in my feelings. I’ll be fine in the morning. For now, I just need a night to decompress.

Toeing my shoes off, I don’t worry about changing out of my clothes. I just slide to the head of the bed, pull my blanket around me and close my eyes, letting the sounds of the tribute to Christian lull me to sleep.

CHAPTER 2

OMARI

My heart thumpsas I read the email for the third time, disappointment settling in my gut.

Dear Mr. Williams,

We interviewed a number of candidates for the position of bank teller and we’ve decided to move forward with another candidate.

Although your interview demonstrated your credentials and experience well, your lack of work experience in this field does not qualify you for the position. However, we will keep your application on file …

I toss my phone away and roll over on the hard twin bed in my best friend, Kit’s, guest room. He’s letting me crash here until I get back on my feet. That email is another setback for me.

My late brother-in-law’s cousin said she would put in a good word for me at the bank she works at. She told me I simply needed experience as a cashier and I’d be hired. Sincethe position had been vacant for close to two months and none of the applicants were a good fit, she was sure I’d be hired.

Yeah, that worked out really well.

Fuck, I need out of here. Kit is my best friend and I love him dearly, but I can’t take living with him much longer. Solely because of his creepy boyfriend that takes every opportunity to make me feel uncomfortable. I told Kit about his behavior, but he said that his boyfriend was playing around, that he doesn’t mean anything by it. It doesn’t feel that way to me, so I only leave my room to use the bathroom or eat so I don’t run into the creeper.

As if on cue, my stomach growls. I roll off the bed and slide on a pair of loose basketball shorts. Before I open the door, I listen to make sure there’s no one in the townhouse besides me. All I hear is the air moving through the vents and a whole lot of nothing else.

Sighing with relief, I step out of the room and enter the kitchen to cook a quick meal so I can escape back into my room with haste.

As I’m grabbing pots and pans, my phone dings. I grab it from the counter and I slide my thumb across the screen to open up my texts. It’s from Kit.

Kit: I’ll be home in an hour. I hope you’re cooking. *smiling emoji*

With a grin, I text him back.

Me: I’ll leave a plate for you in the oven, babe.

I grab all my ingredients and begin making dinner, hoping all the food will finish cooking around the same time. The quicker I can escape back to my room, the better.

Exactly an hour later, I’m fixing Kit’s plate so I can wrap it up for him. The front door opens and I smile, saying to Kit over my shoulder, “I’m glad you’re home. I really need to tell you about my shit show of a day. And you’re just in time. It’s nice and hot for you.”

“Ummm … nice and hot? Show me,” Kit’s creepy boyfriend, Brock says. I whip around, dropping Kit’s plate to the floor as I press into the corner of the kitchen counter. “Aw, don’t be scared. You said it’s nice and hot. Just bend that ass over and let me feel how … hot … it is.” His beady eyes roam lecherously over my body. Without thought, my hand drops over my crotch. He can see nothing but a vague imprint in these loose shorts, but I don’t like how he locked in on my groin.

“Brock, please. I just want to go to my room.” I hate the plea in my voice, but I don’t want trouble. I just want him to leave me alone.

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