Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,7

hair was on my side today though—apparently the only thing. The thick blonde mass formed natural barrel curls if left to air dry. I’d recently visited the salon and let my stylist put fresh highlights through the weighty length. Which was ideal timing because there was no way I could afford his prices on any of the jobs Tommy had circled in the paper.

Not liking what I saw in the mirror, I dried my face with more paper towels and left the toilet.

A weedy man cut me off as soon as I re-entered the seated eating area.

“Our toilets are for paying customers only,” he informed me, looking directly into my eyes.

I pulled up short. “I didn’t use your toilets. I just had to get a stain off my shirt.”

He grimaced. “Our water. And did you use paper towels?”

My fists clenched. “Are you serious? Tell me Montgomery’s is not that stingy.”

“We’re a business, madame. Not a charity,” he sneered.

I’d show him madame. My brows crept up as my hands came to my hips. I fixed him with my most quelling expression—one learned by studying my grandmother.

“Is that so?” I asked haughtily.

The weedy teen watched me with a bored expression. “I already said so, didn’t I? You need to buy something before you leave.”

“Or what?” I snapped, tossing my hair.

He sneered again. “Or I’ll call the police to escort you to the station. For trespassing.”

Seriously? Outrage swirled in my chest, and I did my best to keep a firm hold on it. Being arrested might hinder my efforts to get a job. And I had no bail money.

Why was this guy targeting me? I’d been into the city plenty. People were usually full of smiles and sunshine. Had I just encountered the only three assholes today?

… Or was it because I hadn’t arrived in a black car with tinted windows and a chauffeur?

I deflated. “Fine. What’s your cheapest item?”

His eyes sparked in triumph. “Our ice cream. It’s 100 percent organic.”

“You mean the supplier you use is called Organic.”

The teen’s guilty jerk confirmed that was the case.

“I’ll take one then.” I waved him off.

He pointed at the nearest queue. “Our meal artists will be happy to serve you.”

My jaw dropped. Now I had to wait in fucking line? This kid was outrageous.

I noted the smirk on his lips before he turned to berate the next person exiting the toilet. That had to be how Montgomery’s made their money. Using their toilets as a Venus flytrap to catch the innocent.

I stood in line, stewing in the injustice of it all. The irony of supporting the same corporation I’d just judged others for supporting didn’t escape me. I glared at the back of the weedy teen’s head. Greasy hair and a pimply neck. He probably only exerted his power here because he was bottom of the food chain in high school.

The thought made me feel a tad sorry for him. It also cut through my anger.

The teen’s back was to me…

I skirted my gaze to the automatic glass doors and back.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

“Stop her,” the teen shouted as I bolted for the door.

I burst free and dashed down the stone steps, my pack thumping against my lower back. Luck was with me and the green man signal was flashing to cross to the next block.

Shouts rang after me, but I didn’t look back as I sprinted past the waiting cars.

Fuckers weren’t getting my money.

Uneasiness crept up my spine as I put more distance between me and Montgomery’s. They wouldn’t send coppers after me, would they? For something as small as that? There had to be cameras in there. They’d have a picture of my face.

I shook the thought away and dodged around a corner, lunging for the entrance alcove of a building.

Panting, I waited for five minutes in the alcove, but no handcuffs clamped down on my wrists.

Win. Hopefully.

I wiped sweat from my forehead, stepping aside as a young man entered the doors at my back. He smiled nervously at me, two sheets of paper in his grip.

“Dropping off your résumé?” I asked him, still breathing hard. I really needed to get back to the pool.

“No one ever gets a call from Live Right Realty, but can’t hurt to try, can it?” His lips crooked in a lopsided smile.

This was Live Right Realty? “Oh, I’m meant to be dropping my résumé here too.”

He held open the door, and I strode into the lobby, flashing a smile. Dark hair and dark eyes. Not