Page 59 of Atlas
“I’m three seconds from cancelling dinner and murdering those fuckers.” I give him a peck on the lips and pat his chest.
“Easy tiger, come on, we are going to be late.”
“Oh my god, did I break your ribs?” I instantly try to get up, but his strong gloved hands grab my hips and hold me still.
“I’m grunting because every time you move, the handle of the shovel hits my nuts. Please… stop… moving.” I look down and sure enough, the yellow handle is wedged firmly into his groin. I stare into his eyes, begging him to feel my apology.
“God damn,” Atlas groans in sympathy for the character. “Why the nuts?”
I laugh as I close the book I had been reading from and look out the windshield. “God, I don’t want to go to this dinner.”
“Why?I mean, besides your parents hating me.” Atlas runs his tattooed fingers over my knuckles and I feel the goosebumps erupt. I stare down at his hand, the tattoo of my lips staring back at me. Seeing that tattoo the first couple of times, it made me nervous. I mean, he got a tattoo of my lips before anything was discussed about us. But the more I see it, I don’t know, I’m insanely turned on by it. Like it’s my mark on him, and it makes me want his mark on me.
Snapping back to reality, I take a breath before answering his question. “It’s been six months, they know I’m out of money, they know I don’t have a job, they’re going to start ‘suggesting’ places to send in resumes to get in on the entry level until my twelve months are up.” I sigh while watching his fingers move back and forth over my hand.
“Do you not want to go back into law?” He asks the question so simply, as if the answer is that easy.
“No, I don’t want to go back. I’ve hated the field since the day I started law school.” I try to breathe out my growing anxiety as Atlas makes the familiar turn up the street.
“So don’t go back. You should try narrating, take some time off and take some of the classes you’ve been looking into last month.”
Laughing, I shake my head and pat his thigh. “That’s a nice dream, but I can’t afford my rent, insulin, food, or anything for that matter. How will I be able to pay for a booth, equipment and classes?” I look over at his expression before punching his thigh. “Absolutely not! Atlas no, you are not paying for anything.”
“I could probably–”
“I said no.” I interrupt and wave my hand. “I’m not taking money from you.”
“You’re going to have to eventually or we’re going to be out on the street, Princess.” I flinch at his all too real words.
“I’m working on getting a job working at Sunday’s dance studio–Oof! Atlas! What the fuck?” I rub the spot on my chest where the seat belt tightened on me when Atlas slammed on the brake.
“The stripper studio?” He questions as his gaze becomes hot.
“It’s a studio that specializes in pole dancing, and I would be doing the clerical work, not instructing. Not that there should be anything wrong with that.” I shoot him my own heated glare, challenging him to go caveman on me.
“Princess, I would support you one hundred percent.” He sighs as he begins driving again. “You want to teach people to spin on that pole, you do it. I just don’t like the thought of you leaving there alone after closing, but if it’s something you want to do, I’m not going to fight you.” I relax before he mutters, “I absolutely will be creeping and watching you walk to your car though.”
We are quiet as we pull up to the large estate and get out of his Tahoe. Ferguson greets us at the door before we can knock. I give him a warm smile as we walk in.
“I am inclined to mention Miss Lauren,” Ferguson says softly as to not bring attention to us from the others in the house. “Your parents have guests.”
“Guests?” I ask nervously as he nods.
“Cambridge guests, Miss.” My heart drops at the name. No one here knew about Andrew and his abuse, only that he and I had a nasty break up that resulted in my termination. And they definitely didn’t know about Atlas being the one to beat his facein, or did they? How did Ferguson know I would want to be warned?
“Ren,” Atlas whispers. “I can’t be around him. There is a–”
“Lauren!” My mother calls and motions for us to head to her. “Come on in, the guests are in here!”
I must have a deer in the headlights look on my face because my mom’s eyes narrow and she gives whoever she had been talking to a smile before walking over to Atlas and I.
“Lauren, if you and yourhusbanddon’t get in there and act like civilized adults.” She threatens through clenched teeth.
“Mom,” I hiss through my own clenched teeth. “I am not going in there. The Cambridge’s and I have nothing to say to one another!”
My mother purses her lips together as she stands poker straight. “The Cambridge’s and Andrew are a big influence in your father’s career. Next year is an election year and–”
“Is Andrew Cambridge actually in this house?” Atlas interrupts in a stern tone that takes both me and mom by surprise.
