Well, that went better than I thought. “So, can I get that shower? I stink and itch all over.”
Charlie flaps her hands at me, ushering me to the office door and the stairs up to the apartment beyond. “Yeah. You know the way.”
“Thanks. We’ll talk more when I come down to work,” I promise.
“I’ll let you off duty today. You look like you could do with a sleep.” She isn’t wrong, but I need the pay and the treats for the kids. I’d rather earn them than beg.
“Actually, working will make it easier to talk. I need to be distracted; you know?”
“Okay. I understand.” And she does. The more upset Charlie gets, the harder she throws herself into work. Admittedly, it’s mostly my fault she gets upset in the first place, but Charlie notices when I fake being okay. She always unearths the crap I go through at home.
“Thanks, and if a guy named Dax or maybe Aiden drops in today, they’re here for me. I’m expecting them to find me here by the time my shift finishes.”
“Dax or Aiden. I’ll let Daddy-bear know.”
I was lucky to have Charlie and Koko in my life. Though she’d never said it out loud, I got the impression Charlie came from abackground similar to mine. She met Koko by pure accident and he’s been her lover, friend, guardian, and protector ever since. They were my only benchmark for romance and happy-ever-afters—though the whole daddy/baby thing sounded a little kinky to me. They even worked together without killing each other, melding her love of baking with his skills with knives. They split the shop right down the middle with two kitchens and everything. Raw meats on his side and cooked on hers. Meat pies, sausage rolls, pasties, pastries, sandwiches, steamed buns. If it included meat, she made it and Koko prepared it.
I work as Charlie’s assistant. Koko works alone, although he taught me the basics of filleting and carving, enough that I could hold my own at home, anyway. Not that we ever have much in the way of actual food. Microwave meals and tinned goods are our fare—easy for Dad to cook and cheap enough not to dent his wallet.
Ugh. I don’t want to think about him. I need to get downstairs and get to work. I’ll pack up a few extra treats for the kids today and ask Charlie to put them on my tab. If I’m lucky, Dax and Aiden will come and go before finishing time and I can get home before Dad crawls out of bed.
*
Hot water feels like needles against my body until I’ve scrubbed the sweat and stale blood from my skin. I want to stay under the spray until my body melts away like the dirt does, but I won’t disrespect Charlie and overstep my boundaries. Functional and fast. Get in, get out, get dressed; that’s my plan. Or it would be if I hadn’t left my bag by the front door with all my clothes in it.
Chances are, Charlie and Koko are still downstairs prepping for opening. I could slip out in a towel, grab my stuff and no one would know. Fuck it. It’s that or put my filthy, stained clothing on again, and I’d rather streak the high road naked than do that.
A cold waft of air greets me as I pull the bathroom door open.I check the towel is secure and tiptoe into the hallway, wincing at the wet footsteps I leave on the carpet. I get to the front door and my bag propped against the wall, unzip the top pocket, and yank out my clean underwear first. As I dig deeper to wrap my fist around my jeans, a hiss sounds behind me and I freeze.
“What the fuck is that across your back? Is that…”
“It’s a fucking boot print.”
Neither of those are Charlie’s nor Koko’s voices.
My heart sinks. I should have checked. The damn living room opens to the hallway with a double wide entrance, and I didn’t even think to look. My skin ripples with pinpricks, reminding me I’m almost naked, as I turn and stare wide-eyed at Dax and Aiden.
“You need to answer the question, Jules.” Dax speaks low and steady, but he’s quite different from the put-together man I met last night. Even during his brother’s operation, he stayed calm and professional, detached even. So, the strain in his voice makes me wonder what this is really about. He doesn’t know me well enough to give a shit about me or what happens to me.
“I thought Aiden answered it for you?” I shrug, turning back to the bathroom.
“Don’t move!” Dax snaps. “Turn around and drop the towel.”
“What the—”
Aiden inches forward, raising his hand like I’m a startled animal and not the pissed off woman in front of him. “He means just low enough to show the bruise, kid.”
Kid? Why does that sting? To these guys Iama kid, but damn I don’t want them thinking it. I was adult enough when I saved Tom’s life. I’m adult enough to raise my siblings, to earn money to feed our family and pay bills, to take beatings and get up like nothing happened. Who are these men to call me a kid?
“I’m not a kid, and my body is my business. You don’t get to dictate orders to me like I’m one of your lackeys.” I throw the words at Dax but include Aiden in the sentiment.
Dax’s shoulders sink, but his arrogance and sense of entitlement doesn’t diminish one bit. “Fine, then answer my question. Is that a boot print?”
“It’s none of your—”
Aiden interrupts again. “Jules, this is one time it’ll be easier just to tell the truth.”
I can’t tell whose side he’s on. Softening Dax’s demands doesn’t stop them from being demands, but I guess he’s right. They’ve both seen it now anyway, and the mottled pattern is obviously distinctive enough to be recognisable as the sole of a shoe.
