Page 61 of Stay Toxic

The only reason I knew the names at this point—even though they were said about eight thousand times by the organizers—was because I had a pamphlet in front of me explaining what was about to happen.

“I don’t understand why this is something that we’re supposed to find entertaining. Just teach the lecture already,” my seatmate, who also happened to be in the Amistad house with me, said.

That was something I could agree on wholeheartedly.

I knew that the organizers were trying to make this fun, but seriously.

Just let us sit in our chairs with the teachers we know and get on with the day.

“Do you think that this is going to go into lunch?” the same teacher asked.

“God, I hope not,” I grumbled. “I’m starving.”

“Same,” she sighed.

“All right, teachers!” the organizer bellowed through the microphone, making all of us flinch with the intensity. “Let’s hear you chant!”

The chant was pitiful at best, and the organizer narrowed her eyes, ready to double down and ask for us to try it again.

But luckily, there was one good thing in the world.

And that, my friends, was the fire alarm.

I’d never been more excited to hear it go off in my life.

Usually when this happened, it happened at school, and I had to deal with getting the kids out—though, in the five years that I’d been at the high school, it’d gotten a hell of a lot easier to get my students out since they were almost all functioning adults.

Regardless, though, it was hectic getting them out because I was worried about them all.

Now, all I was worried about was myself.

I hurried out of the row, thankful to A, be at the back of the auditorium, and B, be at the end of the row.

The woman who’d been bitching with me followed suit, and the two of us walked out into the foyer.

Teachers filed out behind us, and my gaze settled on the small restaurant across the street.

Eggs Bitch.

That was, in fact, the name.

Eggs Bitch.

I’d seen it and nearly laughed my ass off at the name, and knew that before this was all over, I’d be going to check it out.

I looked at my watch and wondered how much time I had.

“There’s gonna be at least thirty minutes to wait,” the woman at my side said. “I…”

She trailed off, and I looked at her.

She had her eyes trained on a man across the room, his arms crossed across his chest, and his gaze focused on her.

“What did you do?” she asked, though I knew it was directed at the man across the room.

The guy was jacked.

He was wearing jeans, boots, and a navy-blue fire department sweatshirt, though the font was too small for me to see the name of the fire department.

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