Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I quickly cleaned up my supplies and then got out of there before the Konstantin guy could second-guess his decision.
“Maybe the hall bathroom?” I asked Trix, who let out a big yawn and dropped her head down on her paws. “Right? I think the darker color might look nice contrasted with all that white. If I hustle, I might be able to get both coats done before work tomorrow.”
Fate had other plans, though.
I was on my knees trying not to get any paint on the trim because I was too lazy to tape it off when my cheap little burner phone started to ring loudly on the counter.
“Hello?”
“You need to come to work,” a female voice with the same accent as my boss, barked.
“Oh, uh, sure. Did something break?”
The line went dead.
“Alrighty then,” I said. I carefully tapped closed the paint can, then took the brush with me to the kitchen to wrap in a plastic bag for later use.
“I’m sorry, my girl, but we are going to be late for a w-a-l-k today. Mama has to go in to work, according to the rude lady on the phone.”
I’d only been at the pool hall for three days, so I was still getting to know everyone. There were a surprising number of people who seemed to be working there. Or hanging out with the owners. I wasn’t quite sure what everyone was doing. I just knew they were all dressed to impress and always hanging on Konstantin and Mikhail’s every last word. So I had no idea who the woman was, but she seemed to have some sort of authority, if she was being so clipped with someone else who worked there.
I rushed into my bedroom, pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, then looked for one of my three new all-black outfits. The only one clean was the one I was least sure about wearing to work, given how much Konstantin hated my overalls. It was a black sleeveless jumpsuit that cut close in the legs, so it wasn’t some sort of hazard while working. But I was worried it gave more of a customer vibe than an employee one.
Oh, well.
It was the only thing clean.
And I wanted to get to the pool hall as quickly as possible.
“I’ll be back soon, I hope,” I told Trix as I rushed to the door.
When I got to work, it was the same woman who met me at the door, tapping her heeled foot as if I was late, when I probably only took ten or fifteen minutes to get myself together and get to the pool hall.
“What’s broken?” I asked, trying not to gawk at the woman’s beauty.
It was the cold kind of gorgeous. Her perfect body was hugged by a black dress. Her lovely brown eyes were lined in a way that made them look perpetually sultry. And the press of her ruby lips suggested she knew just how beautiful she was… and that, perhaps, was the least interesting thing about her.
I was only a little bit jealous of her confidence.
“The air. It’s too hot in here.”
It was practically a meat locker in there. But the brothers seemed to prefer the place to be glacial, even when the weather was pretty temperate outside.
“The air feels like it’s working,” I said. “Is it just one vent or—”
“That’s your job, not mine,” she said, shrugging, then walking away.
“Right,” I agreed.
The place was already kind of busy for a random Wednesday night.
I still couldn’t get over how upscale the place was in such a small, nowhere town like Shady Valley.
Sure, you could maybe make an argument that if you painted a place matte black, had nearly black flooring, then brightened it all up with soft warm lighting, it made just about any place look fancy.
But being as closely acquainted with the place as I’d become from scrubbing and doing small repairs, I knew that the tile in both bathrooms was imported and pricey, that the cleaning supplies were top of the line, and that the damn chalk they used for the cues was special ordered from some boutique.
Yet the table fees were somehow not only reasonable, but kind of cheap.
I wouldn’t claim to have a head for business, but it seemed like something wasn’t adding up.
Still, it was a nice place to work. I felt fancy by association whenever I looked at the black felt tables or the snack bar manned by a blonde woman in a skintight dress. Or, yes, even when I looked over at the office where the Novikoff family spent most of their time, often accompanied by friends or employees.
I’d only been in their office once, but it had the same swanky look as the rest of the place, with their own coffee and snack station, a full bar, seating, and desks.