“I know,” she said. “I know I took the advance. Then take the rest from next week.”
“There is no next week.”
He held out his hand.
“Apron.”
Her fingers shook as she untied it.
A little grease stain sat near the pocket where she kept pen caps and napkins and the bus schedule folded into a square.
She had worn the same black work pants three shifts in a row because the laundromat cost money.
She had walked to work that morning because she was trying to save enough for rent.
Now she was standing under a buzzing menu board, taking off the uniform that had kept her barely afloat.
“Mr. Grady, please.”
Her voice cracked on his name.
That made it worse.
He looked almost satisfied.
“You should’ve thought about your bills before you decided to play hero.”
Play hero.
Lauren bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood.
