“My cat!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he sneered and shook his head.
My vision of him was obstructed by a gray sweater. Reid had placed himself between us.
“Alright, we really need to go,” he said, dipping his head to force me to make eye contact with him. I jerked my body to the side, peering around Reid to level my gaze at Clinton. He looked about as fed up as humanly possible, but I couldn’t give two shits.
“Tell me the truth!” I demanded, scanning his features for any possible crack that would tell me he knew something—anything.
“You’re literallyinsane,” Clinton said, putting extra emphasis on the word. He backed away from me, toward the front of his gaudy salon, a place I was genuinely thrilled never to have to set foot in again. “If you come back here, I’m calling the police, and I will get a restraining order.”
“That isn’t necessary!” Reid said at the same time I spat out, “Sue me!”
“Seriously, get the hell out of here!” Clinton yelled, fiddling with his keys. He dropped them then dipped down to grab them in a flustered hurry.
“Is everything alright here?” A soft voice asked. The olderwoman who owned the flower shop next door had poked her head out her front door.
“Everything’s fine.” Reid’s voice cracked. He gripped my biceps and walked forward, practically dragging me along. “Hazel, move now. We need to go.”
A few tears slipped down my cheeks, and I brushed them away with my sleeve before spinning on my heel and letting Reid herd me back to my car at the far end of the lot. I didn’t leave without one last, “Fuck you, Clinton,” throwing him a quick middle finger in the process.
Reid covered my raised hand with his and pulled it down. “Stop it,” he scolded, guiding me to my passenger side door before stuffing me inside. He jogged around to the driver’s side and put my keys—the ones that I had carelessly left behind when I’d stalked off—into the ignition. He placed a hand behind my headrest, looked behind him, and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Holy shit, Hazel! That wasnota stakeout.”
My breathing quickened as my mind finally caught up with my actions. I stared out the window as we whizzed away. Clinton had his head out the front door of his salon, raising a fist in the air like some cartoon villain. Then, Reid slammed on the gas and left the plaza in the rearview mirror.
I sank down into my seat, letting a few more tears fall freely before sniffing. I’d lost it. I wasn’t usually that impulsive, but all my building emotions had finally broken free. My ex used to call me a loose cannon—mostly because I couldn’t stay quiet when someone cut in line or mistreated a customer service worker. But I wasn’t exactly known for picking fights. Not like what just happened back there.
That was it. I was cooked.
Reid wasn’t going to help me anymore. Why would he believe this was out of character? I wasn’t exactly stable. He probably thought my outburst was a run-of-the-mill morning for me. I chanced a look at him. His face was flushed, eyeslocked on the road, and his breathing still came in sharp, audible bursts.
Without Reid, I was screwed. I could probably rule out Clinton as a suspect, since he genuinely hadn’t seemed to know what the hell I was talking about, but I still wasn’t any closer to solving this miserable mystery.
“Something came over me when I saw his stupid face,” I said, attempting to defend my inexcusable actions.
But something really had. I hadn’t been expecting it. Aside from this whole debacle, there was bad blood between Clinton and me. He’d fired me at a time in my life when I really couldn’t afford to be fired. Granted, I’d deserved it, but Ihadtried talking to him first. I’d pointed out how he was being deceptive and underpaying his workers. He’d been smug and dismissive in response and that had pissed me off. So maybe I’d acted on instinct. And maybe my instinct was frequently irresponsible. I was still a human being. I deserved better than to be discarded like a piece of garbage.
“Are you okay?” Reid asked.
The softness in his tone surprised me and I lifted my gaze to meet his. He adjusted his glasses, glancing erratically from the road back to me.
“I’m fine,” I said, unable to hide my surprise that he seemed to genuinely care.
He let out a ragged breath. “That was so dangerous. You can’t just confront someone like that, especially someone you think might have it out for you.”
Was he scolding me right now? Was he actually concerned for my safety? Despite my utter despondence, something brighter cracked through my chest.
“I don’t think Clinton is the most dangerous guy around. I doubt he would do anything that could get his white pants dirty.”
“I’m serious,” Reid said, but then a snort of a laugh escaped him. “Hewasimpeccably groomed.”
“I’ve never seen him any other way. I wish I’d reached out and at least messed up his hair.”
“He probably would have you arrested for assault.”
“He’d probablybelieveit was assault, too,” I said.
