Page 18 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
"I'll pay rent."
"Obviously."
"And I'm not taking charity."
"Colum wouldn't dream of it. You'll sign a lease like everyone else. I'll just make sure the landlord knows you're reliable."
I study her face, looking for the catch. There's always a catch with people like Colum, charismatic businessmen who collect favors like trading cards.
"How do you know Colum so well?"
Lydia grins. "My cleaning business. I clean his firm. Hear the gossip. And oh, I may have had a few drinks with Colum myself." She winks at me.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Now go home. You look like death warmed over. I'll help iron out the deets for your permanent shop."
"You really know how to flatter a girl."
"It's a gift."
I moveinto suite 103 at five months, with Lydia's help.
By then, I'm definitely showing. Can't hide it anymore behind loose shirts and strategic layering. The bump announces itself to the world, and I've stopped caring who notices.
Let them stare.
Let them whisper about the single mom-to-be running a beauty supply shop.
I've got a lease, a growing inventory, and a business plan that involves expanding into online sales before the baby arrives. No time for shame.
The storefront is small but mine. White walls I immediately start covering with removable decals of giant lipstick prints, glitter bursts, motivational quotes about sparkle being a lifestyle choice. The front window becomes my canvas. I paint "SparkleBeauty" in looping pink script and add a tagline:Glow Up or Go Home.
Colum stops by on opening day with a potted succulent and a card that reads "Congratulations on Your Legitimate Business Venture."
"Subtle."
"I thought so." He surveys the space with approval. "You need shelving."
"On the list."
"And better lighting. That fluorescent situation is tragic."
"Also on the list."
"A chair that doesn't look like it came from a dentist's waiting room in 1987."
"It's vintage."
"It's criminal." But he's smiling. "You did good, Sparkle."
By month seven, I've hired a part-time employee, a college student named Maren who's excellent with customers and doesn't ask intrusive questions about my personal life. She handles afternoon shifts while I work mornings and prep inventory in the back room.
The back room becomes my nest.
I stack boxes of sheet masks like building blocks, organize lipsticks by color family, and keep a mini-fridge stocked with string cheese and orange juice. There's a folding chair I've claimed as my throne, and I spend lunch breaks with my feet up, eating crackers and scrolling through parenting forums on my phone.
The forums terrify me.
