Wicked White
Page 12

 Michelle A. Valentine

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My shoulders sag, as I hate admitting defeat to this man. He’s such a crass know-it-all. “I can’t get it to start.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything else as he walks over beside me. The smell of soap and spice fills my nose, and I’m tempted to lean in closer to him and take a long whiff. His scent makes me want to lick him, but I fight hard to restrain myself, because that wouldn’t go over well.
The thick cords in his arms move after he stoops down and turns a small silver cap on the engine of the machine. “Did you check the gas?”
My cheeks redden as embarrassment floods through me. “I forgot about that.”
He closes one eye and peers down into the hole before shaking his head. “It’s bone dry.” He stares up at me. “How long have you owned this place?”
“I just inherited from my gran two weeks ago when she passed. Truthfully, I’m a little lost at how I’m supposed to keep the place running. I don’t know how she managed it all these years.”
It’s almost as if something resonates with him, because his normal scowl is replaced with a frown. “I’m sorry to hear about your gran. Were you all close?”
I nod. “She raised me and was the closest thing to a mom I ever had.”
Ace sighs as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll tell you what. If you knock fifty bucks a month off the rent, I’ll do all the lawn work around here. That’ll make one less burden you have to worry about.”
“Deal!” I say a little too enthusiastically, and Ace’s eyebrows draw in like he’s aggravated by my excitement, but I go ahead and attempt to start our relationship over. “I really think we got started off on the wrong foot.”
Ace holds up a hand, cutting me off. “This in no way means we’re friends. I’m just looking for ways to save myself some money. Got it?”
I flinch as the short tone he takes with me returns, and it pisses me off that he feels like he has the right to treat me like this. Maybe Gran’s idea to be nice isn’t meant for this situation, because he obviously has no interest in making amends. “Whatever.”
I turn and walk inside the trailer to finish going through some of Gran’s things to distract myself from the beautiful asshole who lives next door.
When Ace returns from the gas station, the constant sound of the mower working at chopping down the grass echoes through Willow Acres. At least the tidiness around the park that Gran prided herself on so much is getting back to normal. “We might be poor, but that’s no excuse to live like animals” is what Gran would always say.
I make myself some lemonade in the kitchen and then sit outside on the steps as I wait for Birdie to return home from her job as a daytime bartender at a small club in Cambridge. She’s been working so hard to worm her way into her boss’s good graces. Her goal of obtaining an evening shift position is pretty close to being attained. She’s been at Angel’s for only three months, and she’s already next on the list for a shift that’s known for the best tips. I’m proud of how hard she works. My friend has a great work ethic.
The loud rumble of Jeremy’s beat-up 1990s-model Trans Am catches my attention just in time for me to see him come to a skidding halt in front of my place. His T-tops are open, and he doesn’t even bother using his door as he hoists himself out of the car. He tucks his long, sandy-blond hair behind his ears as he approaches me. The T-shirt covering his slim body has the sleeves cut off, and the jeans he has on are filthy, like he’s been rolling around in mud.
I hope he’s bringing the rent he’s two weeks late paying.
I give him a polite smile, hoping he’s not coming to me to ask for another week to pay his rent. “Hey, Jeremy.”
Jeremy takes that as an invitation and walks up to the porch where I’m sitting and props one leg up beside me on the step. His green eyes bore into me as he leers down at me in a way that makes me wish I had about fifteen layers of clothes covering my body.
“Iris, I’ve got your rent.” He leans back and pulls a wad of cash from his back pocket and hands it to me. “My dick boss was late paying me.”
The worn money slides through my fingers as I count it in front of him. When I count out only four hundred dollars, I ask, “Where’s the late fee?”
He makes a sour face. “Why the fuck are you going to charge me a late fee? I told you last week that I would be late. It wasn’t my fault that my boss didn’t pay me until today.”
If he had been nice about the situation, I probably would have let the twenty-five-dollar fee go, but because he’s being a complete jackass about it, I’m pressing the issue. I set the money down on the step beside me and pick up my glass of lemonade. “I never said that you wouldn’t have to pay that. You signed a contract—”
“Fuck your contract, bitch!” Jeremy knocks the glass of lemonade out of my hand, causing me to gasp and flinch because I’m not sure if he’s going to swing at my face next. The liquid spills as the glass crashes down on the concrete and shatters into a hundred pieces. “You got your money. Be grateful for that.”
“That’s enough!” Ace’s deep voice cuts between me and Jeremy.
Jeremy’s back tenses and he straightens and twists his head from side to side like he’s readying himself for a fight. He pushes himself away from the step and turns to face Ace, who is standing a few feet away. “I think you need to mind your own business, pretty boy. You don’t want me to mess up that face of yours, so go back to wherever you fucking came from. This here, it’s between me and Iris.”