Hands Down - Mariana Zapata Page 0,60

saw Deepa drop to her haunches and make it seem like she was looking through a shelf. For what, I had no idea, but she looked busy, and it took everything inside of me not to make a face.

I knew she was going to load me up with questions later.

“I understand,” I started saying into the receiver even though there was no one on the other end. “Thank you so much for your time. I hope you keep Maio House in mind if you ever move back.”

Man, I was good.

And lucky, because just as I finished my bullshit spiel, I spotted Gunner in my peripheral vision, stopping just in front of the desk the second I set the phone back down into the cradle.

The jerk knocked on the counter, and it took a lot of patience not to roll my eyes and instead look at him blankly. “How are the calls going?”

“Fine.” I kept my face even. “Do you need something?”

“Can you stay late today?”

“No, I can’t.”

His jaw moved to the side a little. “There’s no way?”

“No.” He’d offered me a full-time position right after people had started quitting, and I had told him it was a hard no for me. Because it was.

His jaw moved a little more. “You know, it’s really unfortunate that you can never seem to stay late when you’re needed,” the jerkface tried to say, picking at my mood, and blatantly ignoring the fact that I had stayed late recently.

Just not on days he asked.

“I stayed an hour late yesterday and three days ago….” I trailed off, calling him an asshole with my eyeballs.

“What good does that do me today?”

And folks wondered what drove nice, normal people to first degree murder.

I had always been a team player, but he was such a pain in the ass, I just couldn’t find it in me to do him a solid. The two days I stayed late had been after he’d already been gone, otherwise I would have said no to that too. The new assistant manager, who had been hired after everyone else quit, was an all right guy, but none of us had any confidence in him protecting us from Gunner’s wrath.

Then again, it wasn’t my problem that they hadn’t hired enough new people. I’d seen some come in to interview, and I wasn’t sure why hardly any of them came back. Or maybe they had sensed the evil in him and not accepted the positions they’d gone in for.

“I’m sure I can find someone willing to get some overtime if you aren’t.”

Here we went again.

I kept my face blank and said, “I’m sure you can.”

Asshole.

That freaking settled it. Come hell or high water, I was going to get the hell out of this place.

I was going to find Deepa another job somewhere else. If I got bored at home, I could learn a hobby. Maybe I could learn a language. Volunteer.

Gunner grimaced, clearly irritated, and pointed at the sheets I had in front of me. “Make sure you get through that list before you leave.”

I didn’t even bother giving him a fake sweet smile, instead settling for a nod. Just one. He didn’t deserve more than that.

And, fortunately, about three seconds after he finished bitching at Deepa about keeping busy, that was when my phone vibrated with an incoming message.

I peeked at it the second he’d moved far enough away.

It was Zac. Again.

512-555-0199: You free tonight?

Tonight?

Me: Yes.

Why?

He answered my question with his next text.

512-555-0199: Can I pay you to take me to a dealership?

Frowning, I looked up to make sure no one was paying attention to me and then texted him a response.

Me: Pay me??

And why would he ask me and not Trevor or CJ or one of the other three hundred people he apparently knew?

512-555-0199: With money.

I made a face at my screen and thought about it for a minute.

Me: Get real. You’re not paying me. I can take you. Let me know when you want to go.

512-555-0199: You sure?

I mean, I wasn’t but… I was.

I could do it, so I would. If you could do something for others—at least decent human beings, not counting Gunner because he was a shithead—then you did it. It was that simple.

Me: Yes.

The snapping of fingers had me glancing up.

Deepa was glaring. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Shit.

“Hi, CJ.”

CJ full-on smiled at me as he opened the door. “Hi, Bianca.” His gaze went straight to my hands.

My empty hands.

“I didn’t bring any snacks. I haven’t filmed

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