Promise(18)

That’s another difference. Rebecca would have had that money spent by now. And then some. She could call me out on my shit, but I wasn’t the one who snuck my wallet out of my pants pocket as soon as she thought I was asleep.

I knew. You don’t go through the hell it takes to be part of the SEAL’s and not know when a chick is acing you after you fuck. Money means nothing to me.

“Hey, wait . . .” I say a little too loud.

Promise is making her way out the door, and I don’t know what to say to stop it. I just know I don’t want her on the other side of that door with me still in here.

“What? You want me to prove to you I can read?” She gives me a sniping tip of her head, but there’s that same glint in her eye, and her name starts to repeat again in my head.

Promise. Promise. Yes, I Promise.

“No. I mean, yes. NO. Just, I want to come back when you read. I just want to be sure he is okay with it. With you. He can be difficult.”

“Most humans are. Some more than others. It’s all a matter of degree.” She regards me. For the first time, I feel like she’s seeing me, and I can’t describe the feeling of being under her gaze. “So, you’re Beckett, right? That’s your name? I’ve seen your name on his chart.” She’s smiling, and it’s turning into a laugh. I want that sound to never stop.

I want to make her laugh like that for the rest of her life.

“Yep. You can call me Beck.”

“Okay, Beck.” Her eyes dart away, but this time, it’s not because she’s trying to hide. She’s trying to decide something.

Then she smiles. And I wonder where the air went.

“What?” I ask. “Something funny? Please share, I could use some funny in my life.”

“It’s just, I remember your name because your initials are BFF. You know, like ‘best friends forever.’ BFF. It’s funny.”

“Yep, hilarious.”

No one has noticed that before. If anyone else had said that to me, I’d probably get my nuts in a bunch. But, coming from her, I’m so beside myself that she took note of anything about me, I’m as right as I’ve been in a long time.

“Okay. I’ll be here at three-fifteen, after shift change. But, I have to leave by five at the latest. I have to get to my other job.” She’s tugging on a loose thread at the hem of her scrub top. She’s uncomfortable in a different way than before, and it sends smoke signals rising from below my belt.

If she’s fidgeting about how she looks, that means she cares how she looks.

In front of me.

Or, she’s just scared to death that I’m going to creep around and murder her in her sleep.

“See you then.” I nod my head and give her my best non-threatening smile.

I’ve just bought some of her time. Now, I need to figure out what to do with it.





Promise

Come on, $100 an hour to read? He has to want something else.

What am I doing?

I’m making $400, is what I’m doing. That’s a dent in five-thousand. A visible dent.

A dent someone would notice if you left it in their car door.

It’s just a book. It’s just words. It’s not like I’ve never read before.

Sure, but out loud? I remember the last time I’d read out loud in school. And every time before.

I remember Lilly Petridge sitting in front of me in fifth grade. It was my third school that year. She’d turned around and glared at me, passing on the open copy of Gulliver’s Travels, the classroom silent, waiting for me to start. I’d lifted the book, trying to ignore her smirk. My belly had tightened as I tried to breathe. My eyes fell on the top of page 127, and there it was scrawled in red marker across the page, across the book’s words.

FREAK GHOST GIRL Boooooooooo!!!!

I shake my head as I head down the hall to check on Mrs. Stephenson. She got herself into the shower but just like every other day, she will forget when it’s time to get back out. She’d just sit on the shower bench all day until she pickled.

I feel sad as I push open the door to hear Mrs. Stephenson in the shower, chatting away to no one in particular.

I bite my lip.

I didn’t take the money. It’s still sitting there. I can back out. I will back out.

But I need that money. How can I turn down $100 an hour? Actually, it’s more than that. He said four hundred for three hours total.

That is not turn-downable. That is grit-your-teeth-and-do-it money. I’d probably do a lot worse things for that hourly rate. Luckily no one has come right out and offered.

Luckily he hasn’t come right out and offered.

He’s got something. A gravity that pushes me away and then pulls me back. I feel like a ping-pong ball around him.