Page 9 of Skid
I am.
Laken:
How are things going with the car?
Me:
She was suffering more than I realized.
Laken:
Now I feel bad.
Me:
Don’t feel too bad. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.
Laken:
I really appreciate you doing all this for me.
Me:
No problem. I’ll see you at 1:40.
Laken:
See you then.
I slippedmy phone into my pocket and went back to work. Once I got into a rhythm, the hours slipped by with ease. Smittydropped off the parts, and in no time, I was getting through the long list of issues. She wasn’t running yet, but she would be soon enough.
When it got time to go pick up Laken, I ran inside, cleaned up a bit, and put on a fresh shirt. It wasn’t much, but I wasn’t a complete mess as I headed over to her place. When I pulled up, she was already waiting outside, and Baylor was right there next to her.
Laken was in jeans and a faded gray sweatshirt, and her hair was pulled back into a single braid. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, but she didn’t need it. She was naturally beautiful, and her daughter was, too.
Baylor looked like she’d stepped out of some kid’s magazine in her little pink sweatsuit and rosy cheeks. She was holding onto the same rabbit she’d been carrying the night before, and she was eyeing me like she was still trying to figure out what I was up to.
Laken led her over to the truck, and when she opened the door, she smiled and said, “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure thing.” Once they were inside and buckled up, I asked, “Where are we headed?”
“The Hotel Royale.”
The name got me like a punch to the gut. The Royale was a rundown dive where people got into some shady shit. It wasn’t the kind of place where Laken had any business being, nor did her kid. She had to know that, and if I had to guess, I’d say she was working there because she had no other choice.
I gave a quick nod and said, “I know the place.”
I drove without saying another word, and with each stolen glimpse in her direction, I found myself wanting to take her anywhere except that damn hotel. When we pulled up, I eased the truck up to the curb and killed the engine.
Laken unbuckled Baylor and started out of the truck. Before she closed the door, I asked, “Do you get a break?”
“Hmm?”
“A break,” I repeated. “You know, for dinner or whatever?”
“Yes, at seven. Why?”
“I’ll bring you girls some dinner.”
