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wanted to be, was a chick magnet . “And if anything, you’re gonna steal all the damn glory
from us!” JT chuckled, motioning between him and his friends.
    This was the part where he
should walk away, the part where he should say you’re right, but
instead, he found himself nodding in agreement instead, “What can I say, chicks
dig a dude with a sob story,”…fucking hell, where had that come from? The last
thing girls wanted was a guy with issues up the ass like his.
    But really, what else could he say? Besides, he hadn’t gotten laid since… He swallowed that thought,
turning away, his face paling as he stared down at the white laces of his
Chucks. He wasn’t going to go there. It fucked him all up inside to think about
that night—the night from both heaven and hell on earth that nobody knew about
but him…and her.
    “Sweet. We’ll swing by and
pick you up, right guys?” He heard their enthusiastic grunts of approval, but
didn’t bother looking up at them. He had to go—there’d be plenty of times to
think about his dumbass mistakes later in life.
    Numbers exchanged, niceties
upheld, David strolled away, an extra–large chip on his shoulder hanging like a
second layer of unwanted skin. As he finally turned to leave, he couldn’t help
but blow out a breath—whether it was a breath of excitement or nervousness, he
wasn’t sure. For one, was this even the right choice to begin with? Probably
not. But did it at least feel right? Did it feel as if this was the
beginning of getting his life back maybe? Hell, he sure hoped so. All he knew
though was that somewhere out there either hell had frozen over, or pigs were
flying their little asses off, because he’d seriously taken a risk.
    And David decided long ago
that he would never be a risk taker again.

 
    Chapter Four
     
    “Mom, this freaking blows. You
do realize that, right?” Abigail sighed in complete annoyance, throwing her
hunter green knapsack over the back of the couch. It landed on the floor,
spilling most of her supplies onto the precious white carpeting her mother had
insisted on, earning Abigail the monster of all growls in return. She shrugged,
her mom needed to just relax and take a Xanny or something. She had to wonder
if her mother’s sudden cleaning frenzy, and bad mood, had something to do with
the fact that her Bob the grown up builder wasn’t around.
    Exhaustion had just about
ruined Abigail’s day. Besides that, she had a party to go to tonight, and if
she didn’t quit yawning, she’d never make it. Damn, why was she so tired?
    “Abigail, you know you have to
get your license if you want to help me run the salon someday.” Her mother
barked, throwing her dust rag over her shoulder as she snapped to attention
like a lonely housewife–turned–drill sergeant. Abigail bit her lip to fight the
giggles erupting in her throat at the picture, throwing her body across the
couch onto her mom’s perfectly purple and totally fringy pillows. Those pillows
rocked as both a kick–ass resting place and the perfect color to
brighten up the pale, lavender room.
    She shut her eyes at her
mother’s strangled yapping, opening one up a second later to see the
quintessence of all frowns across the woman’s face. “Screw the damn license,
Mother,” she sighed blowing out a slow stream of air, “you know as well as I
do, that I can cut, color and style hair better than over half the women who
work there.”
    She kicked off her flats,
crossing her legs at her ankles, putting her newly pedicured feet under another
a set of pillows to keep her toes warm. “You, young lady, cannot just screw
the license. It’s the law, and I won’t have my only daughter refuse to educate
herself in the line of work she wants to pursue, just because she was too
good to do so, do you understand me? I have nobody else to take over one
day and I need you to be on board with this. This is the way things are
supposed to be done!”
    Abigail closed her