Page 4 of Last Chance Love

“You don’t sound confident.”

“Probably because I wasn’t ready for you to call me on that, but yes, I am.”

“You didn’t expectmeto call your bluff…really?”

“Fine, I miscalculated, but I was speaking the truth.”

“And what if it was your candidacy in the program on the line?”

That surprised me, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. I also didn’t miss the sidelong glance Mr. Isaiah shot her. I couldn’t tell if he was as surprised as I was, but he didn’t look at her with annoyance or like he was arguing. If anything, he seemed to be wondering where this would go. Since Mona wasn’t exactly explaining herself, we would have to wait to see.

Whether or not shecouldput that sort of thing on the line wasn’t in question. She had a lot of leeway from Mr. Isaiah, and as far as I could see, he let her do just about whatever she wanted. Whether or not she would do it was the real question. That was one hell of a weight for her to slap down on my statement, but she’d already made it clear that calling my bluff wasn’t a problem for me. So it came down to whether or not I believed Reno wasn’t a lost cause.

“I’d prefer not to,” I said slowly and winced, “but yes.”

“Interesting,” she said. “Stay here.”

It wasn’t like I was going to go marching out of the room, but I stepped out of her way as she left the office. I turned to look at Mr. Isaiah as he watched her, his brows drawn together but his mouth hidden behind the hand stroking his thick mustache.

“She is…a very interesting woman,” he said after a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “Very.”

“A lot of guys here are scared of her,” I told him with a shrug.

“Hell! I’m scared of her half the time,” he said with a laugh, getting up to refill his glass and then swinging around with another in his hand, setting it on the edge of the desk. “Here.”

“Uh, sir? We’re not allowed to drink,” I said carefully. Even though we were in a ‘private’ program, we were still technically wards of the state…as felons. We weren’t allowed anything like alcohol, and cigarettes were iffy territory, though I still saw plenty of guys smoking.

“Then we’ll just make sure no one else knows,” he said, tapping the glass. “After that mighty display of balls, you deserve a little something.”

“I don’t know about that, but,” I said and then left off with a shrug. I didn’t want to risk insulting the man when I was probably relying on his support, so I scooped up the glass, “here’s to you, sir. And the program.”

“Why don’t we throw in the good men who do the work you do as well?”

“Uh, sure. To the mentors, the program, and you.”

It was only a measure of liquor, but it was smooth and rich as it slid over my tongue and down my throat. After a moment, I felt the warmth blossom in my stomach, and a slight shiver ran up my spine. It had been ages since I’d last tasted liquor on my tongue, but none had ever tasted as good as this.

“Damn, is that the stuff you give when people graduate from the program?” I asked, setting the glass down.

“No, the stuff y’all get when you finally get out of here is even better,” he said with a chuckle.

“Huh,” I grunted. It wasn’t like I was an expert when it came to liquors. Bottom-shelf liquors were all I’d ever known, the kind you mixed as heavily as possible.

“That can’t be cheap,” I said after a moment. “No liquor that good is cheap.”

“It’s not,” he said with a shrug. “But I can afford it. And if that can be my little way of showing support, then why not? Y’all work hard to get to that point. Why not have something nice to enjoy on top of the graduation?”

“It’s a nice idea,” I said, trying not to think too hard about how much a bottle would cost. Overthinking led down the rabbit hole of what a bottle like that could pay for.

I knew better than to let bitterness get to me or to think too poorly of Mr. Isaiah. I had known people who were way better off than my family, and they came in all varieties. Some were absolute shits, and some were wonderful people, but most of them were just like everyone else, living their lives as best they could. Some were struggling harder than others, but that was life.

“You look like you been keepin’ on top of things,” Mr. Isaiah said without preamble.

“I…what?” I asked, turning toward him in confusion.

“Last time I saw you was a little while back, and you were lookin’ a little…peaked. Been sleepin’ better?”

Without thinking, I looked into the glass of the liquor cabinet. The room was lit just right to make out my features clearly in the glass. It wasn’t a bad face usually, and it wasn’t bad now…and better than the last time Mr. Isaiah had seen me for sure. Then again, he’d seen me coming off a nasty bout of food poisoning.

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