Page 66 of First Comes Revenge

“Clay did lie about his body count,” Dani says slowly. Clay is the guy from work she started dating recently. “We talked about it and he told me he’d been with three girls. But we were all drinking at this bar after work and one of his friends blurted out how it was more like ten.”

Roxie glares. “What? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Well,” Dani says slowly. “I really like him. I got mad and we fought, but we made up. He got me a really cool plant.”

Roxie’s face screws up. “A plant? Seriously?” She holds her arms wide. “What’s wrong with you guys? Gemmaline is over here always trying to convince everybody to be a doormat. Dani is apparently forgiving assholes as long as they buy her the right plant. And now Charli is wanting to go make up with the guy who lied and was about to let someone steal her book to help his company’s bottom line. Either I’m going crazy, or you’re all losing your minds.”

“Or maybe,” Gemmaline says softly. “You’re the one who could learn to open up and love again.”

Roxie scoffs. She snatches a bag of shredded cheese from my fridge, stuffs a handful in her mouth, and gestures warningly at all of us. “I’m going to leave, because I can’t just sit here and watch this.”

She storms off and Dani flops down on the couch, letting out a long breath. “She’s just pissy because she likes her new job.”

“What?” I ask. “When did she get a new job?” It’s not like Roxie to tell my sister something before the rest of us.

“She’s working at this little clothing boutique. She was planning to operate some sort of scam–like she’d buy clothes for cheap and agree to buy them for a friend at a profit with the boutique’s bank roll. They were going to split the money, but she’s pissed because she has the hots for the owner’s brother or something and hasn’t gone through with her plan. She’s just working it like a normal job and collecting an honest paycheck. It’s driving her crazy.”

I laugh. “Leave it to Roxie to be mad that she’s happy.”

“Well?” Gemmaline says. “Are you going to go down there and put him out of his misery? Because I really want to watch the big kiss from up here.”

I bite my lip and look out the window. Jameson is digging in his endless bag of books with one hand and holding a bagel with the other.

Maybe it won’t kill me to just go down there and hear him out. I can keep my guard up. I can promise myself not to melt into a puddle of way-too-easily-forgiving goo if he says or does something nice.

Or maybe I’m about to go out there and kick off the biggest disaster yet.

29

JAMESON

Iglance up from my book like I’ve done a thousand times. The motion has become so habitual I don’t even register what I’m seeing until I look up a second time and notice the woman I saw leaving the building is now moving through the crosswalk with a small group of people and coming toward me.

It’s not just any woman.

It’s her.

It’s Charli McBride in all of her glory.

It feels like I’m seeing a fucking dream come to life. I realize I only knew her for about three weeks. That means I’ve spent more time away from her than I spent knowing her. A month of no contact. Three weeks now of trying to apologize? Or has it been four? I’ve completely lost track.

All I know is my heart is in my throat just from the sight of her walking my way.

She looks nervous, embarrassed, and more than a little scared. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt with her hair thrown into a simple ponytail, like she was just hanging around the house and decided to come out to see what I was doing.

I stand up suddenly and my small crew of homeless friends notices my body language.

“Hungry again already?” Earl asks.

Margaret, Earl, Janice, Buck, Petey, and Teddy Two-Toes (who actually has nine toes and claims the nickname stuck because of a misunderstanding, a language barrier, and a healthy amount of alcohol), and Nina are all looking at me and then at Charli.

It’s more than a little silly how much the group has grown over the last two weeks. I haven’t minded the company or supplying my new companions with free signed books, food, and the occasional wad of cash when nobody’s looking. I’ve honestly felt really fulfilled these past weeks. Of course, I’ve always donated to charity and all that shit, but I write a check and hand it to an assistant who figures out the place where my money will have the most impact. It’s impersonal, and I’ve grown disconnected from it.

Hanging out down here with my growing group of companions has reminded me why it’s worth busting my ass to make so much money on a different level. It lets me do shit like this–like promising Earl I’d cover his security deposit and his rent so he can get a place again, which will mean he can get the job he has been trying to land for months.

Watching Charli approach reminds me that I could have possibly spent a little less time playing homeless daddy and a little more time actually thinking about what magical words I could say to earn her forgiveness.Whoops.

I’m standing up and she’s right in front of me. It’s a moment I’ve been waiting two weeks for, and I have no idea what to say.

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