“So when are you going to tell me what kind of trouble you’re in?”
“How about tonight? I promise. Give me one day to float around like a girl who just had the best night of her life, then I’ll let you anchor me down to the depressing reality after we have tacos. Deal?”
He cupped the back of my head and pulled me in tight. “Sorry,” he whispered softly against my hair. “And PS: your roots are showing and it’s appalling. I’ll pick up some dye later on and fix you up.”
“Maybe I should just let it go natural.”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “Or I’ll dye it black.” Trevor held me at arm’s length, studying my face and hair. “Shit, that would look awesome with your complexion. You’d look like a badass heroine from one of those urban fantasy books who wears tall lace-up boots and ripped tank tops.”
“Think I can find some of those at the mall?”
***
Trevor dropped me off at the mall and actually stuffed fifty bucks in my pocket. I had to laugh because he knew I wouldn’t spend a dime of it. Since it was close to lunch, I stopped over at the sandwich shop and ordered a grilled panini with an avocado smoothie. It was relaxing to sit at my square table and watch people. A redheaded boy hopped in a circle on one foot, a teenager with mischief on his face flew by on a skateboard as an overweight security guard ran after him, and one exhausted mother had her hands full with five kids who all wanted something different to eat. I played a game with myself, guessing what everyone was doing at the mall.
I wondered if anyone sitting around me was doing the same and had guessed I was hiding from a pinky-chopping maniac who worked for a loan shark.
Halfway through my shake, I spotted a familiar face. I think she recognized me more than I did her. Naya James had breezed into our store on a few occasions to purchase pinwheel lollipops, but she was also a close friend to Lexi.
“April? I almost didn’t recognize you!” Naya shouted, running in short steps to my table. Her black pumps made her bronze legs look impossibly long beneath her powder-blue skirt. Naya was all kinds of beautiful with thick curls of brown hair and exotic eyes.
She leaned down and kissed my cheek.
“Hi,” I said, feeling at a loss for words at her unexpected appearance. “Did you find anything good?”
She threw a large bag onto the adjacent table and set her purse on the chair beside her as she sat down. “Whew! I’ve been shopping for an hour and my feet are killing me.”
“What did you get?”
“Oh,” she said with a sly grin. “Nothing I can pull out in front of all the children. It’s for work. When I buy real clothes for me, I go shopping with Lexi. Girl time,” she explained. Naya was a stripper, or exotic dancer. I wasn’t sure which term was politically correct. She had a bubbly personality that was fun to be around, not to mention Naya was drop-dead gorgeous.
“Oh, girly, what is that?” she asked, staring at my green drink with her red lips scrunched.
“Give it a taste. It’s an avocado smoothie,” I said, sliding it across the table.
Naya pushed it back. “The only thing green I put in my mouth is Ben Franklin,” she informed me with a suggestive wink. “So where is Lexi?”
I felt a flush rise on my cheeks. She had no idea what had gone down between us, and I was a little relieved. “Work, I guess.”
“You guess? Don’t you know her schedule?”
I glanced around to think of an answer.
Oh. My. God.
My trip to the mall had just escalated from awkward to epic fail when I saw Wheeler strut by with his sleeveless black shirt, showing off his tats that wrapped all the way down to his wrists. A woman walked by him and did a double take, snapping a picture of him with her phone. He lingered in the pizza line and I sank down in my chair. Naya caught on and turned to look around.
“I have to go,” I blurted out.
“Already, chickypoo? Don’t you want to hit the shoe stores on the lower level with me?”
“No, but I appreciate the offer,” I said, untangling the strap of my purse from the chair. When I sat up, my elbow knocked the smoothie over and the cup clacked all over the floor. Several people turned to look.
Including Wheeler.
The moment he spotted me, he slammed his tray on the counter and stalked toward us with a venomous look on his face. His brows slanted fiendishly and his lips were tight. Wheeler’s dangerous streak might have turned on some women, but it intimidated the heck out of me. He’d trimmed up that beard, which is more than I could say for the tangle of brown hair on top of his head. I guessed it to be about two inches long and hoped it would be enough to grab if this confrontation turned physical.
Wheeler’s shoe stepped in a puddle of green liquid and he slammed his fist on the table.