“Please don’t,” Bee said. “We’d like for you to go to the movies with us. Dillon says you’re going to be staying with us for a while.”
My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline. “He did?” The man was way too confident. Either that or he was planning on locking me in this room. I diverted my gaze to the two windows, hoping a fire escape sat outside one of them since I was on the third floor.
Bee nodded, beaming from ear to ear as she took my hand. “You need a manicure. Oooh, Allie. Let’s give Elizabeth a makeover.”
Dillon hadn’t wasted any time in sharing my name. I was curious what else he had told them.
Allie’s gaze roamed over me, no doubt trying to figure out who the new girl was.
Bee flipped my hand so my palm was facing upward. “Why do you have calluses?”
“Lifting weights. Is Dillon home?”
“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen making breakfast.” Allie sat up. “The bathroom is down the hall on the left. We’ll meet you on the first floor. Come on, Bee. Let’s eat.” Her voice was firm, leading me to believe she was the more adult of the two.
Bee pouted as she traipsed out with Allie. I flopped back onto the pillow. I couldn’t imagine Dillon as a pimp. He was a gentleman last night. He wanted me safe. When we got back to his house, he didn’t try to coax me to his bed or try to kiss me. He escorted me to this room and said good night. I stared up at the popcorn ceiling, debating what to do. No weapon was worth selling my body for. I had a small amount of cash in the bank, though I had to use it sparingly. The best course of action was to contact Peyton to see if her mom needed help with upcoming catering jobs. After the art gala, Wendy had paid me in cash. For two hours of my time she’d given me one hundred and fifty dollars. At first I’d given half of it back to her. It seemed like a lot, considering it far exceeded minimum wage. She’d insisted, saying I’d done a great job. Part of me thought Peyton had told her mom about my family and that Wendy felt sorry for me. Either way, I pocketed the cash after she argued with me.
The smell of bacon floated in the air, and my stomach grumbled. I climbed out of bed, dressed, and combed my fingers through my hair then set out for the kitchen, thinking about how to approach Dillon. The best way was to keep it simple. Tell him straight up I wasn’t working the streets for him, and that he could sell me the gun and I’d be out of his hair.
I followed the bacon scent down to the first floor, swung around the staircase, then crossed a wide hall and into the open spacious kitchen. Allie and Bee sat opposite each other at a picnic-style table. Beyond them, through the window, three inches of snow piled neatly atop the wooden fence.
Bee beamed with excitement when she saw me. Allie kept eating, only eyeing me for a brief moment. Dillon stood at the stove, plucking bacon from a pan onto a plate.
“Sleep well?” he asked. His brown, shoulder-length hair had that bedhead look, and his jaw was scruffy. He was wearing a wife-beater, showcasing a tattoo sleeve of crosses, quotes, a Chinese symbol, and a woman’s name, along his right arm.
My short-term memory vaporized as my limbs locked into place. I stared at the name, Grace, which was woven into the Chinese symbol on his bicep. My lungs burned as though Dillon had poured hot grease down my throat.
“Bee, help Elizabeth into a chair,” Dillon said.
At the sound of my name, I snapped back to reality, switching my gaze from his arm to Bee, who had bounced over to me.
“I’m cool,” I said weakly.
Bee went back to her seat. She and Allie began whispering—about me, I imagined. I had to look like a deer in the headlights.
I shuffled closer to Dillon, trying to recall my Chinese. My father had taken an assignment with his tech company in China for two months when we lived in Texas. My mom, Gracie, and I had visited him for a month. I’d been fascinated with the language and picked up several words. When we returned to the States, I kept up with learning the language until Gracie died. Then I lost all desire to do anything.
“You’ve seen a ghost,” Dillon said as he touched my arm.
I’d seen more than a ghost. I was beginning to think Dillon and I were meant to meet. For what reason, I wasn’t sure.
He carried a plate of bacon to the table. “Let’s eat and talk.” He set the plate next to a bowl of scrambled eggs, fruit, toast, and a stack of pancakes.
I moved over to the bench-style seating, my mind swimming with what question to ask him first.
“Girls, if you’re finished, head upstairs and get ready,” Dillon said. “I have a few things to do before we leave for the movie.”
Bee and Allie kissed him on the cheek. Allie snagged a piece of bacon. Bee waved at me with a glowing smile. I couldn’t help but return the gesture. Bee had an infectious way about her to the point where I wanted to hug her and let her paint my nails.