Page 63 of Stepbrothers

“I’ll have you there in twenty if the traffic isn’t horrendous.”

“Let’s hope not. If I’m even five minutes late Derek will have a fit.” She jammed on a ‘Grind ‘n’ Go’baseball cap, pulling her hair through the gap at the back.

“Ah, Derek.” Hugh led the way from the apartment then locked the door behind them. “Your charmer of a boss.”

She huffed. “Let’s just say he skipped decent human being lessons.”

Hugh’s jaw tightened as he stabbed the button on the elevator to take them down to the parking lot.

Clarice changed the subject. “Are you okay that I’m here? In the apartment?”

“Of course.” He frowned. “You couldn’t stay in your flat anymore. Which reminds me.”

“What?”

They stepped out into the lot. The lights flicked on, showcasing an array of expensive cars belonging to the residents.

“I need you to send me your landlord’s contact details.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve had enough of his non-communication. I’ll put our lawyer onto him.” He pointed his key fob at his Porsche, and it flashed to life.

“Lawyer.” She stopped. “I can’t afford a lawyer. It’ll cost a hundred pounds just to send a letter.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course I do.”

Hugh dropped into his car. Clarice did the same and buckled up.

“It’s the family lawyer,” Hugh said. “And you’re family now, so don’t worry about it.” He revved the engine as if taking out frustration on the gas. “And your landlord needs to wake up to who he is dealing with now.”

Clarice didn’t answer, because at that moment, Hugh pressed the metal to the floor, and they took off. Whizzing past parked cars, up a ramp, and then out on to the street and taking a hard right.

“For crying out loud, are you stupid?” Derek snapped. “There’s an oat milk already open, why did you start on another?” He glared at her.

“I didn’t know,” she said. “But it won’t matter, it will all get used within the day.”

“Well, you’d better hope it does, otherwise I’ll be docking it from your wages.”

“You can’t do that.” She scowled at him.

“Watch me.” He frothed milk in a metallic jug, the gurgles and hisses preventing her from saying anything further. Then after making a latte, for himself, and grabbing his third croissant of the day, he slipped into the back office.

Clarice sighed and leaned against the counter. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. How much more of this asshole could she take?

Not much. He was a sap on her self-esteem and her self-worth.

She pasted on a smile as a woman with a pram came into the café. “Hello. How are you today? And isn’t it a beautiful day, the sun has come out to play.” She waved at a toddler gazing up at her with wide blue eyes. “What have you got there?”

“Book.” He held forward a sticky book with a tiger on the front. “Tiger.”

“Aren’t you a clever boy reading already.” Clarice smiled, but this time it was genuine. No need for pasting.

“He’s a very hungry tiger,” the boy said seriously. “When he comes for tea he eats everything and drinks all the water out of the tap.”

“Gosh, that is a lot of food and drink.”

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