Home > Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)(11)

Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)(11)
Author: Jay Crownover

“And I don’t have the time or the energy to try and fit in a second job to pay for one. This sucks.”

I shoved my fingers through my hair and rubbed the heels of my palms into my temples. All that stuff I shoved down on a day-to-day basis rose up in the back of my throat, threatening to choke me. Really, how much more could one person be expected to endure? Why was the universe trying to break me?

“Can I offer a suggestion?”

I looked up at her and she was twisting one of her curls around her fingers, a telltale sign she was nervous. I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say.

“Sure, as long as it doesn’t involve me working a corner in the District.”

The District was the part of the Point where girls a lot younger than me practiced the oldest job in the world. It was where men went to have a good time and spend money on women who would forget them as soon as they had that same money in hand. I had never actually been to that part of town, but it was legendary and really the last resort for too many.

She smacked the back of one of my hands when I put them back on the table, and scowled at me. “Stop being ridiculous. Look, I know you and Race aren’t exactly buddies.” She paused and I rolled my eyes. Of course we weren’t buddies. I couldn’t be buddies with someone I wanted to strip naked and crawl all over. “But he is good, like scary good, with computers. You could ask him to look at it for you. I bet he could fix it, no problem.”

Great. A solution that would be financially helpful, but would test my already-frayed resistance where her golden god of a brother was concerned. Like I stood a chance after that kiss. I grumbled under my breath and threw my hands up in surrender.

“Give me his number and I’ll call him.”

She made a face. “It’s not exactly that easy to get ahold of him anymore. He has a bunch of different numbers for the different things he’s into, and he doesn’t check his personal phone that much because, really, I’m the only one that calls him on it. I’ll just tell him to swing by the restaurant and have a look at it for you.”

Again, irrefutable proof that I had no business crushing on Race Hartman. I had no clue what to do with a guy who had to have multiple cell phones to run his different criminal ventures out the back door.

“All right. If you think he wouldn’t mind.”

She smiled again. “He won’t mind. He’ll do it because I’m asking him to, but he likes you. He always has.”

“How is that possible? I’ve never encouraged him in any way.” In fact, I went out of my way to discourage him at every turn.

She smirked at me and grabbed her bag and her phone. “Race is a difficult guy to explain. The choices he’s made, the things he’s decided to take on . . .” She trailed off and shrugged helplessly. “He isn’t scared of a challenge, scared of working his way around obstacles. Look at his best friend. Bax never trusted anyone, never let anyone matter, except for Race. He’s just the kind of guy who works his way into where he wants to be.”

Well, shit. That didn’t bode well for me being able to keep his charm and allure at arm’s length, but I didn’t have a choice. I really couldn’t afford a new computer.

“Shoot me a text after you hear from him to let me know when to expect him.”

She nodded and gave me a hug. She smelled like sunshine and something bright. I don’t know how someone who had been continually beaten down, handed the worst life had to offer over and over again, could be so delightful. She was a marvel and I felt really lucky that she liked me enough to let me into her closely guarded inner circle.

“Thanks, Dovie.”

She snorted. “Don’t thank me until you know if he can actually fix it or not. Blue screens usually mean death when it comes to computers.”

I wished she hadn’t reminded me. I put my stuff away as well and climbed to my feet. I had to head over to the restaurant and get ready for my shift.

“Well, still, thanks for thinking of a solution I can actually afford.”

We walked toward the center of the campus and she stopped me with a hand on my forearm right before we had to split and go our separate ways.

“Look, Brysen.” Her dark green eyes were serious and steady. “You took me in without asking questions when my life was a mess. You’ve always been nice, never pried or asked questions I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. If you need some help, let me know.” Her gaze shifted to the ground then back up to me. “I don’t have a lot, but Bax does, and he’ll hand it over without question if I want it.”

She was going to make me cry. I reached out and gave her one last squeeze. “No, I’m fine. I just have to bide my time. We all have to make sacrifices, I guess.”

She was willing to risk life and limb and even her freedom in order to stay with her man. I was willing to sacrifice my independence—my vision of what I thought my life would be—for my sister.

I made my way to the car and drove to the restaurant I had worked at for almost two years. It hovered right on the edge of the Point and the Hill, so there was an odd mix of customers we served. I made decent money, and I liked that it was close to school and offered me a break from the stress at home and the opportunity to meet people I probably never would’ve otherwise.

I went into the back bathroom and switched into the tiny black skirt and too-tight black T-shirt that constituted as my uniform. Really, as long as we wore all black, the owner didn’t care how we dressed, but I had learned real quick that the sexier the outfit, the redder the lipstick, the shinier my hair looked, the more money I brought home from the shift. It was so “unevolved,” so sexist, that it galled, but I needed every single penny I could put my hands on, and looking hot was a surefire way to get it.

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