My mouth watered. “If we make it out of this alive, we’ll be getting the steak, too.”
It was good to dream, right? I could put it down in my dream journal. I once saw this woman with a mega-watt smile and hair extensions say that I, too, could live the dream, my best life, if only I had one of these journals. I should list all of the things I was thankful for on a daily basis, even things I didn’t have, things that seemed so far beyond my grasp that sometimes I called myself foolish for even thinking about them. The idea was to project all that my heart desired onto my life.
Will it to be true.
My entire journal was made up of I am’s.
I am thankful that I am no longer poor.
I am thankful that I am a millionaire who wants for nothing.
I am thankful that I am a world traveler.
And the one that I’d rather die than let anyone see. I am thankful to be loved beyond measure by someone special.
I made a mental note to add I am thankful for the steak I had at a ritzy restaurant to the top of my list. Maybe I needed to get more specific more often. Come to think of it, I think the happiness guru mentioned doing just that. I was at work at the time, so maybe some of the details got lost in translation a bit.
This happiness guru never gave a time limit on when these things were supposed to start happening. I sure as fuck hoped it would be soon. That steak looked so good. If one of the people behind the glass needed a kidney, I’d trade mine for the steak. As far as I knew, both of mine were in pretty good shape.
Besides, why keep two when you only need one? In light of the prospect, I wasn’t a gluttonous person, and if someone needed my assistance in return for a good meal—just once in my life—I was there for it. Yesterday.
“Hey!”
I turned around at the sound of the voice, holding tighter to the straps of my old leather backpack. Normally I wouldn’t have turned around, but the voice was close and the reflection in the glass seemed to be staring right at me.
“You talkin’ to me?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Get the fuck away from here. You’re scaring our customers. Staring in the glass like some wide-eyed bug that needs to be squashed.”
Even though his words stung me to my core, because I knew that he knew I was dreaming of the food behind the glass and had no means to even enjoy a burger from some fast-food joint, much less this five-star restaurant, I squared my shoulders and narrowed my eyes against his. “You and what army are going to make me?”
“You don’t move along, I’m going to have security escort you to a place you might find more your speed. The dumpsters.”
If I had any fucks left to give, I would’ve certainly given one to that underhanded crack. “I’m doing nothing wrong! I’m trying to decide if I want to come in for a bite or not.” Lie. “But seeing as your restaurant is probably full of rodents like yourself, I think I’ll pass.”
And to think I was willing to give a kidney for one of his crummy steaks. I needed to up my standards some before thoughts like that took hold and appeared in my journal. Who knew when that shit was going to come true? I’d probably end up owing this asshole a kidney for a steak.
He doubled over and belly laughed. Then he stopped suddenly and pointed behind me. “I’m not going to tell you again, Dumpster Princess. Get the fuck out of here or—”
The words died in his throat as an expensive black car drove up to the restaurant and parked in front of it like he owned the place. Like he was king of the world. I couldn’t tell if the driver was a he or a she, but something about the entire scene screamed male. Followed by dominance.
I thought about walking before the mysterious man stepped out, but since he had silenced Smart Mouth, I waited to see how this was going to play out.
Smart Mouth almost ran to the fancy car and greeted the man—he was a man. Smart Mouth’s voice was eager to please, the exact opposite of how he’d spoken to me.
Smart Mouth chattered on as the man stepped onto the sidewalk and headed straight to the door of the restaurant. I wasn’t aware of many men, but this one… Not going to lie, I couldn’t look away from.
Under what was no doubt a custom-made suit, he probably had more muscles than I could count. He was tall with wide shoulders, jet-black hair, and golden skin. His nose was angular, as was the shape of his face. His lips were full. I wished I could see his eyes, but they were hidden underneath a pair of sunglasses that were probably worth more than I’d see in more than three years.
I could smell his cologne—citrus and a hint of sandalwood—and it seemed like a breath of fresh air in this city full of too many people and too many dumpsters. He smelled the way I imagined the ocean did, an exotic place to get lost in. He walked with so much swagger, I was convinced that he was the owner of the restaurant. Maybe even the sidewalk.
Smart Mouth opened the door to the restaurant for the man in the suit, and before they both stepped inside, the man in the suit stopped. Two women in expensive dresses slid past him and Smart Mouth, who greeted them with a huge smile on his face and a hand welcoming them inside.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five seconds after the women had gone in to be seated, the man in the suit turned to me, and I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Fucka me. He was even more attractive from that angle—full frontal. The only words that came to mind were head-on collision with a massive wave out of nowhere. He’d take me out with a tide I couldn’t fight, since I had no idea how to swim, and then wreck me, his power enough to slam me up against a rock.
Not that it was hard. I hardly had anything left to wreck.
Smart Mouth sucked in a breath when he realized who the man in the suit was staring at. His face turned a shade of red reserved for raw meat. Maybe because of my reaction to Smart Mouth giving me a death stare, the man in the suit looked between us.
“I apologize, sir,” Smart Mouth said. “I’m about to get—”
The man in the suit lifted his hand and silenced Smart Mouth before he could utter another word. I couldn’t stand the intense way the man in the suit studied me from behind his glasses. I knew he was studying me by the way my body reacted. It had been years since I felt…small in the presence of someone.
Judged. Sentenced. Ridiculed. Banished.
I looked down, playing with the straps of my backpack, feeling even worse when my eyes caught sight of my tennis shoes. They were two sizes too small. My toes pressed against the fabric, close to breaking through, and some days I thought, what a relief that will be, because they hurt. Blood stained them in spots from the wear and tear on my flesh. Then again, if I didn’t have these shoes, I had close to nothing. I didn’t have the money to buy a used pair, much less a new set.
I am thankful to have shoes that fit—an entire closet full.
I’d fill in the details later, once I was home and could put some thought into the ones I liked the best.
I am also thankful that this baseball jersey matches the damned shoes. I’m not mismatched today.
It was all I had to hold on to in the moment, something completely mine and true.
Oh, right, back to the guy in the suit. I wanted to lift my eyes, to defy him, daring him to judge me so I could give him the “see how much I care about your opinion” look—zilch—but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes again. My cheeks felt hotter than the pits of Hades. A bead of sweat rolled down my chest, between my breasts, and I was suddenly highly aware of my body. How anxious I felt.