Page 43 of Beautiful Defiance

Red opens the door for us. I follow Rue inside, admiring how long and thick her black hair is. The ends brush the small of her back. She’s my height and thin. And unlike my lighter brown eyes, her eyes are so dark, it’s like staring into the moonless, starless night sky.

“Rue, what nationality are you?”

“Korean. You?”

“Same.”

“Sisters from another mother. Nice.” She glances over her shoulder and smiles at me. I smile back.

We walk up to the counter. There’s a handful of customers in the store. The smell of leather and pine permeates the air.

“Busy much?” Rue asks the guy behind the counter.

He’s buff, with a buzz cut and a full beard. Tats line his neck. He looks up from whatever he’s writing down on a piece of paper and rolls his eyes at Rue.

I like him instantly.

“Smart off much, Rue?”

“Is that your latest nickname for me? If it is, it’s cute. Beats cockblocker.”

Laughter from the guys in the windshield wiper aisle.

“What you did at that party was uncalled for.”

“I saved you from catching a case of crabs,” she says, her voice low so that only the four of us can hear. “Condoms don’t save you from those critters, Mason.”

“She has a point, man.” Red rests his hip on the counter. He and Rue fist bump. These two. I bite down on my smile. They are a hoot.

“Leigh just moved here, and she’s looking for a job. You said you need someone to help cover until Iris gets back from maternity leave.”

Mason looks me up and down. “You know anything about cars and auto parts?”

“Enough to ‘borrow’ some guy’s battery from his truck.”

He smirks. “Great answer. You’re hired.”

I beam. “When can I start?”

“First off, are you a minor? Do you go to school with these rebels?”

A fitting name for Rue and Red.

“I go to Cambridge High.”

“Then you’re limited to eighteen hours a week.”

“I’m working Fridays and Saturdays at Queenie’s, but don’t know total hours yet.”

“Hand over your cell.” He gestures for my phone.

I pull it out of my bag, unlock the screen, and give it to him.

“My number. Text me your schedule, and I’ll see what I can do. You want to work the maximum eighteen?”

“Job’s temporary, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Iris gets back in three months.”

---