Chapter 2
2
Skye Simmons
Climbing into my car, I pull the door closed and lean my head back against the worn-out headrest of my old Prius. A car that has seen better days but still gets me from point A to point B. She may stutter and choke, but dammit she hasn’t failed me so far.
Closing my eyes I allow myself to roll over the events of the day. I’ll admit I was nervous, not knowing what to expect when I walked in the door of Sensational Salon. Would I fit in? Would everyone look at me as an inexperienced little girl that they wouldn’t allow near them with a pair of scissors?
But I’m happy to say I was so wrong.
From the moment I walked through the glass doors and into the posh atmosphere, I was in awe. Everyone was so kind and helpful and the clients were amazing. I was surrounded by the best kind of people, those that accepted the new girl, and never once treated me as though I didn’t belong.
I’m tired.
My feet and back hurt and my hands are waterlogged from the various shampoos I provided, but I’ve never been so happy to be exhausted.
A day doing something I love is so much better than the long endless nights working the register at the minimart a few blocks from my apartment.
That job paid pennies and I busted my ass. But I had done what I had to do to put food on the table.
I never considered at the age of twenty I’d be raising a preteen, but when I got the call that my parents had been in an accident and they hadn’t survived, my life changed. So did the life of my then twelve-year-old sister. We needed one another to get through it all, we are still grieving. Still trying to find our way, still fighting like sisters, but living like two best friends. Tori and I are fire and ice. She is sassy, opinionated, and loud. She doesn’t care who you are, she can just meet you and if she has something to say, she is going to say it. Don’t expect her to filter her words, be ready for a storm if you piss her off too, because she is a bear.
Me, I tend to be the one that’s the problem solver, the lover not the fighter. I also have a bad habit of withdrawing and instead of fighting my way through, I just say forget it all and take a new path.
Like I said yin and yang.
But Tori, she is amazing. I adore her and would do anything for her. Which is why I spent my days going through school and my nights working until close, barely sleeping and pinching pennies to give her all I could while I let my own needs go. She came first, and whatever was left I made work.
She’d already lost so much, and I know I had too, but my God she was twelve when she was picked up at a sleepover by an officer only to be brought to the hospital in the middle of the night.
Together we cried for hours, me a baby myself was now responsible for a twelve-year-old. I quit school, got the first job I could find, and took what money my parents had set aside to get us a two bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood. I don’t let Tori see me struggle and hope that I hide it well.
I want her to be a kid.
Taking in another deep breath I gather myself and drive home with a smile on my face. For once I feel as though things might actually be okay.
Fifteen minutes later I pull into the parking lot and start to turn into my assigned parking space, only to slam on the brakes.
A familiar growl rumbles in my chest when I see the ridiculous motorcycle that has taken up my space far too many times.
We have assigned spaces, so why does my annoying, ridiculously loud in his extracurricular activities neighbor insist on taking my space all the time!
Backing up I take one of the spots meant for visitors and grab my purse, climbing out of the car. The door squeaks as I use my hip to shove it closed. I glare at the bike as I pause, as if it’s the machine’s fault. Its owner is an asshole.
My mood has soured, that man has ruined my happy high.
Walking past his door, I narrow my gaze and flip off the door, as if that fixes everything.
As I unlock my door and barge inside still feeling irritable, I stumble, almost face-planting in the middle of my living room.
“God dammit!” Looking back I see the familiar bag in the middle of the floor. The same offensive bright blue nylon that has triggered a near death experience on so many occasions. Tori’s book bag that she dropped to the floor the second she entered the apartment is now tipped over on its side.
Counting to five I push off the wall I had braced myself on and look down at the floor, my foot still tangled in the strap of the bright blue nylon. “Tori.” I try to keep my voice calm as I bend down, unhooking my ankle and picking up the bag. “Tori,” I yell a little louder this time, knowing she isn’t going to hear me over the loud music, but not letting it stop me from screaming anyway.
Just one day I’d like to experience uninterrupted joy. Just one!
I pound on her bedroom door, and after a few seconds her music is turned down and she opens her door. “What?”
I don’t answer but instead lift her bag out before me and she glances down. A few silent seconds pass between us and then she lifts her gaze to meet mine once more.
“Shitty day?”
“Language, Tori,” I huff, knowing there is nothing I can do with her sailor mouth. I swear she is a twenty-five-year-old trapped in a fourteen-year-old’s body. Turning around I walk back toward the kitchen, grabbing the items for dinner from the refrigerator.
“I know you aren’t pissed about the bag alone, so what is it? Does your new job suck ass?”
Rolling my eyes, I grab a pan and fill it with water to boil the noodles.
“Are the women there bitches?”
“Will you stop cussing, please?”
“Okay fine.” She flops down on the chair at our small kitchen table with mismatched chairs. “Are the women you work with rude and unfriendly?” I try not to laugh at how polite she is attempting to be sarcasm oozing off of her in waves. Tori has one mood, blunt and unfiltered.
“Work was amazing, better than I expected.”
“Okay, so then why the mood?”
I continue to busy myself, placing the pot on the stove so it can boil, before getting the hamburger. I place it in the second pan and chop it up so that it can start to brown.
“Earth to Skye?”
“Do you think I’d get away with placing a fence with a locked gate around my parking space?” I ask as I turn to face her. “Or leaving spikes in it so if Mr. Flaming Bedsheets next door decides to take it, he’ll blow a tire?”
Crossing my arms over my chest I lean back against the countertop and find Tori simply staring at me. Then without warning she stands and makes her way across the apartment yanking open our front door. I’m surprised and it takes me a bit to catch on. Even when I do, it’s too late, she is already pounding on the neighbor’s door.
“Hey ass face.” I hang my head at her choice of words as I make it to the threshold and look to the right. Her fists are pounding on the door and I am just about to speak up when it opens and her head tips back, looking upward. “Listen pal.” Again with the sarcastic tone. “Would you mind being a gem and moving your bike out of my sister’s parking space so she isn’t taking her frustrations out on me. And in the future, stick to the assigned parking for your own apartment. Unless of course you’d like to start paying half the rent for our place too, then you’re welcome to it. Don’t be a dick! Be a hero!”
With that she spins on her heels and walks back to our door. Moving in past me I chance another look in the direction of our neighbor and there he stands with his arms crossed over his shirtless chest. He is grinning from ear to ear with amusement.
I would like it to be noted that he is not an ass face.