He taps the yellow legal pad lying in front of him with the end of his fountain pen. “She is his mother.”
“But she’s a fucking meth addict. She’s neglected him. I’ve had to go pick him up in the middle of the night from parking lots at bars where she was hanging out—on numerous occasions. She once left him sleeping in some random guy’s car. I’ve had to buy formula and diapers and take them to her because she spent the support money I sent on crank—money intended specifically for Caden’s needs.
“For Christ’s sake—she once called me, all geared-up, from fucking Vegas to tell me she forgot Caden at the baby sitter’s. She was three God damned states away before she remembered her son—my son.”
Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Ty. If you were married and settled down, it might be different. But you aren’t.”
“So what if I’m a single dad? There are fuck-tons of unmarried fathers out there doing a great job raising their kids.”
“You’ve been out fucking around like a tomcat on the prowl. All of your exploits are lurking in the recesses of the court’s mind, whether it’s right or not. You remember—this county is more like a small community, especially when it comes to matters of the court. No one takes a dump without everyone else knowing to what degree the shit stinks.”
“Miss Jordan, I feel confident that you’ll hear from us in the very near future. Of course, we do have other candidates for this position, so I can’t make any promises.” Mr. Bernard smiles, his coffee-stained teeth doing their best to shine behind thin lips.
I take his offered hand, schooling my features so I’m not smiling like a deranged camel as I step across the threshold of his office. My ribs clamp down on the excitement trying to burst up through my chest at the prospect of actually landing this job.
It’s a perfect fit. Flexible hours, room for advancement, and best of all, good pay.
I so need this. It will not only cover my rent, but I’ll have enough to save up for a new car too. And, maybe, if I’m super careful, I can put some money away for that proverbial rainy day.
He nods to his assistant. “Could you please walk Miss Jordan out, Kris?”
The bubbly blonde pops out of her seat. “Sure thing, Bern.”
We step into the elevator, and as soon as the doors whoosh closed, she turns to me with wide eyes. “Oh, Bernie likes you. He never smiles big enough so that his teeth show. Like, ever. You’ve got this in the bag.”
I let one corner of my mouth lift, but only a tad. I don’t want to seem overly eager. She’ll probably run right back to his office and tell him everything I say.
“That would be great. I think I’d like it here. I’m really looking forward to working with a team.” There, that ought to sound good to a potential employer.
In all honesty, at this point in the game, I could care less if I had to work in a bunker, eighty feet below ground, all by my lonesome, everyday for six years, as long as I get a paycheck.
Since being laid off a few months ago, my savings have been seriously depleted. I’ve got all of three hundred bucks in my bank account. Rent’s due in two weeks. There aren’t a lot of jobs I’d turn down at this juncture. After almost falling to sleep during my interview the other day—thanks to stupid Tyson Masters keeping me up half the night with his them banging against the wall—I lost out on the opportunity for that position.
I’m going to have to seriously consider a career in food service if I don’t land this gig.
Bouncy Blondie nudges my shoulder with hers. “Oh, I bet you’ll be on the team. I can tell. I’ve only been wrong once in the three years I’ve worked here.”
I hold my optimism at bay as I give her a thumbs-up and exit the elevator. “Here’s hoping.”
She leans out and waves. “I’ll take you to lunch after you get settled in. You’ll see. I’m almost always right.”
Her enthusiasm gets to me, and I shake my head as I let my grin fully take over. “I’ll hold you to that!”
Over my shoulder, she returns my smile and winks. “Sushi, then?”
“That’d be—” I collide with a muscular chest.
Wobbling on my new heels, I grab for anything to keep from landing on my ass for the second time this week.
Big hands save me.
The same mischievous gray eyes that greeted me the last time I tumbled from grace crinkle at the corners. “You gotta stop falling all over yourself, JoJo. I know you want me, but damn, girl, have some self-respect.”
Shit.
My nostrils flare, and I pull back as rage flames in my gut.