Read Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance for Free Online Page B

the
table and leaves the room.
    All those years, I never thought
freedom would be swift kick to the teeth with steel-toed boots.
    No family.
    Shitty job.
    No purpose.
    What’s the point?
    My phone buzzes in my pocket,
reminding me that I have a phone now. How easy it was to forget that. I’d
slipped out of the shop on my lunch break that day and signed up. I can’t have
prospective employer’s calling the home phone looking for me like I’m some
technology-phobic moron.

 
    TONIGHT. 10:00. THE BASEMENT. YOU IN?

 
    Of course it would be Kyle.
    I rake my hand through my hair,
tugging at the ends and sinking back into my seat. My body’s still a little
tight from the last one, but I know I still have plenty of fight left in me.
    Shit.
    Especially
after tonight.
    That outlet would feel damn good.

 
    I fire off a response. I WANT $1500.

 
    YOU’RE
DELUSIONAL.

 
    I chuckle. He’s an idiot if he
thinks he has any semblance of an upper hand in this discussion.

 
    FIND
SOMEONE ELSE THEN.

 
    I shove the phone back in my
pocket and head upstairs. Faint sobs trailing from my father’s bedroom serve to
make me feel like an even bigger piece of shit for making Laticia cry like
that.
    The second I pass the threshold
into my room, I slam the door and flop back onto the mattress. My phone buzzes
one more time.

 
    FINE.
$1500. IF YOU WIN.

 
    My lips curl up at the sides. ALWAYS DO.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
– JORDANA

 
    “I bet he can fix it up and sell
it.” I’m sitting on the bed next to my mother, who’s face is buried deep in the center of a goose down pillow. Her shoulders heave
and shake as soft, muffled cries fill the space around us. I place my hand on
her back, holding it steady as if I possibly had the power to calm her.
    Nothing seems to calm her besides
wine these days, and if anyone brings up Jerome, it sends her into an emotional
tailspin and the rest of the night is as good as ruined.
    Not a single day has passed over
the last three years where I haven’t thought of my big brother. He was my
protector. My best friend. My role
model. I would trade anything to have him back again, but I’ve accepted
that it’s not a possibility. I’ve chosen to keep him in my heart for the rest
of my days, but I refuse to dwell on the tragedy of his passing.
    Dwelling on senseless crimes does
no one any good.
    That’s why I want to work in
probation and parole. I want to change lives for the better. I want to help
convicted criminals turn their lives around so that other families can be
spared the kind of pain and suffering we’ve known.
    “Mama,” I say, rubbing my hand
across the back of her silk blouse. “Let Titan drive it. Let him fix it up.
Maybe he can sell it and you can do something fun with the money? You’ve always
wanted to go to Jamaica. Maybe we can do a girls’ trip?”
    I’m injecting as much hope and
positivity into the situation as I possibly can, but she’s not responding. The
cries haven’t stopped.
    She misses her son.
    I can’t pretend to know what that
feels like. I can only lend my strength.
    I lean down, pressing the side of
my cheek against her shoulder and breathing in her soft, jasmine perfume. “I
love you, Mama.”
    Her crying stops, and I sit up.
Mom pulls herself up, wiping her tear-stained cheeks on the backs of her hands
and pulling in deep breath after deep breath. Our eyes lock, and I can feel the
pain radiating from her beautiful face. It’s the realest pain I’ve ever known,
and it’s defined my mother and our lives for the last three years.
    “Do you feel like I’ve abandoned
you, baby?” she asks, her brows lifted. “Emotionally speaking?”
    I glance away, not wanting to
upset the fragile ecosystem of her emotional state.
    “You can be honest.” She places
her hand atop mine.
    My shoulders shrug. “I mean,
yeah, but I understand. You’re grieving.”
    “I’m going to work on it,
Jordana. I’m going to get better.”
    I gaze up at her,