“Don’t sweat it,” I laugh. “I’m not staying here.”
“If you think you’re going back to that crack house you’re wrong.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what is not going happen.”
“What?”
“It’s not happening.”
“Staying here is what is not happening.”
“Fine, we’ll figure something else out but going back there isn’t one of the options. I know what happens in that building and I cannot stand the thought of you being there. You don’t belong in a place like that Charley.”
“It’s…” I clear my throat, feeling stupid. How do I say it’s all I can afford and no matter how shitty it is, no one will ever go looking there for me? Same as at Elegance.
Shame burns through me at everything I’m hiding and the real reason why I want to dance at Elegance.
“There is no harm in asking for help.”
“Who was I supposed to ask?”
“Anybody at Elegance, they all would have helped.”
“I’m not asking for charity, Nashville.”
“Callum.”
“What?”
“My name. It feels weird you calling me Nashville. You’re thinking I don’t look like a Callum?” he raises an amused brow. “Funny story, my dad is Scottish, he came over to the US in his early twenties, met and married my mom and they had four sons.”
“There are four of you?”
“Yep and all our names are Scottish and begin with the letter C. Dad always said if they had a girl mom would get to name her and it didn’t need to be Scottish or begin with a C.”
“And that never happened.”
“Nope, she kept on having boys. Camden, he’s the eldest, then me, then they had Craig and Cameron is the baby.”
“Camden and Cameron.”
“Cam and Ronnie, keeps things easier.”
Wait, how did he divert the conversation so easily? By giving me a small piece of information that led me in a completely different direction. He grins, knowing exactly what he just did.
“I have to be somewhere in about twenty minutes,” he looks at his watch. “You’re going to have to get yourself to work.”
“I’ll call an-”
He slides a set of keys across the counter, there is a BMW logo on them. There was a giant BMW in the garage behind the amazing Mustang that I would love to drive.
“Stop dreaming about the Shelby,” he says with a knowing look. “No one drives my baby but me.”
“Your baby?” I smirk.
“Correct. There is a fob to the garage that will let you in and out inside the car.”
