“Jeremy,” I call before he disappears. I pull Jonathan Rivers’ card from my wallet and slide it toward him. “Call that number. If there’s a way out of that trash contract, Rivers will find it. Then call me.”
He looks over his shoulder, then back at the card, before picking it up and tucking it into his pocket. “Thanks.” He turns and leaves.
The waitress appears with the drinks and looks around for the other men. “Should’ve just asked for the check,” I say, smirking as she sets my drink down.
“They didn’t pay for theirs,” she mumbles, looking toward the exit.
“Don’t worry…” I pause and read her nametag for the first time tonight. “Poppy, I’ve got the check.”
She nods, turns around, and walks across to her station. She’s back within minutes. I snap a picture with my phone and punch in the company card to pay. “I’ll be sure to leave an extra tip. Hazard pay for the creep across from me.”
Her brow perks, a cute smirk tugging her lips. “I should say it’s not a big deal, and that I’m used to it, but I’ll never turn down extra cash.”
I laugh because confidence looks good on her. Reaching into my wallet once again, I retrieve several hundred-dollar bills and toss them on the table for her. Those brows jump again, and for a second, I think she might argue. It seems she thinks better of it, though, grabs the money, and stuffs it in her pocket.
She flashes a grin. “Thanks for your business.”
“Any time, Poppy.”
Poppy
Life sucks, and then you die.
Maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe not. Ask again tomorrow, and we’ll see if the answer has changed.
Okay. Fine.
Life isn’t all endless troubles and sorrow. There are wonderful moments that you cherish. Days that you want to keep forever.
Are you happy now?
I really do recognize it’s all a balancing act. Without sorrow, you’d never appreciate joy. Without suffering, you’d never understand comfort.
Darkness is necessary to recognize the light.
But lately, it feels like it’s dark all the fucking time.
I lean back in the cream-colored chair in my go-to coffee shop with my laptop on the table in front of me. The flavor of mocha and peppermint bursts along my palate. My favorite coziness in a cup. Too bad it can’t fix my life.
A mouthwatering aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar causes a loud rumble to erupt from my belly, reprimanding me for not eating since last night’s sandwich. Yet another daunting reminder of my current situation.
But this is one of my favorite places to be when I’m not dancing, which is almost always. It makes me nostalgic, imbuing me with warmth and comfort from my childhood, but the numbers on the spreadsheet rob me of the benefits I seek.
I rake both hands through my hair, trying to shake the panic clawing at me. I never expected to find myself in debt like this. If something doesn’t give soon, I’ll be freaking homeless.
The huge tip I got last night should’ve been a relief. It was much more than the standard twenty percent, and for a split second, I considered refusing. The thought lasted less than a breath, as I stared into the green eyes of a familiar face.
He had no idea who I was. We’ve never met officially, but I knew him. Even if I hadn’t seen his name once or twice on celebrity gossip sites, I would’ve recognized him as my friend Casey’s stepbrother.
Son of a former music label owner and brother of a billionaire, Jagger Davis can afford the six-hundred-dollar tip without blinking. He’d never understand what it means to choose between heating and food.
But it’s not even a Band-Aid on my bleeding finances. Nope, the carotid has been severed, and without a major intervention, I will bleed out soon.
I dig into my pocket. My fingers brush the heavy cardstock, and a spark flickers. Guilt? Shame? A warning dressed as a lifeline?
Shaking my head, I jerk my hand out of my pocket. No. I’m not that desperate. Something else will come along. It has to.
***
