Page 16 of My Shameless Angel

“Yep.”

“Fine, but put the damn ice cream away. This is not an ice cream kind of situation. Sure, it sucks big time, but this is not deadly.”

“Kate,” I deadpan her. “This was my dream job. This is deadly dead. I didn’t just lose Fashion Linc. I lost journalism overall.” I drop down on the couch and pick up my bowl of ice cream again.

“Oh, stop it. I’m sure any magazine in the country will hire you. Lexi, you have a talent.”

“Nope,” I say with a pop sound on my letter p. “The evil incarnate said he would block my path onto every house, and I believe him.”

“Come on, one call to Mr. Ellis, and you can have your own magazine.”

“I am not calling Dad!” I point my spoon at her. “I am capable of taking care of myself, and besides, Father has plenty to worry about. I won’t bug him with my crap.” What I don’t mention is that I don’t want to seem like a disappointment to my parents, like a failure. I wanted to show them that I could make my own way, and it backfired big time.

No, I will find something else I love and make them proud.

“Fine, fine, so what’s the plan now?” Kate asks me.

“Ice cream.” I pick up the bowl to show her. “Then drinks.”

***

“Ouch,” I hear my raspy voice musing in the morning while my head splits open at the sound.

I think those tequila shots, in the end, were a bit too much. Last night Kate, Enzo, and I went out to the bar and talked shit about my ex-boss. It was lovely, and I’d do it again if the hangover wasn’t so bad in the morning.

I hear banging.

Someone is banging on the front door.

“Aghhhh, go away!” I yell out as if they can hear me, but it only worsens my headache. My eyes are slammed shut, and Icannot open them up, but I feel for my phone and peak at the time. Seven-oh-five.

Seriously?

Who wakes non-working, jobless, and pathetic people up at seven in the morning?

There are no more sounds, and I’m hoping whoever was fighting for a the-most-hated award of the year left, but I’m not that lucky.

Bang, bang.

Come to think of it, I haven’t had good luck in quite a while. Did I cross paths with a black cat somewhere and wasn’t aware of it? Maybe broke a thousand mirrors and tripped hundreds of saltshakers all at the same time?

I’m not even sure how I got home last night. It was probably Julius; he would never let Kate go to the bar alone, although I don’t remember him with us.

Bang, bang.

Somehow, I manage to get up and crawl downstairs to kill whoever is at the door. I sharply swing it open without looking. “What?”

“Rise and shine, Kitten. You will be late.”

My eyes fly open as if someone injected them with caffeine and some Redbull because I know that voice.

I know that stupid, arrogant, hot, sexy voice.

The Dark Angel.

He’s here.

At my front door.

---