Page 2 of Tito

“You knew her?” I nearly choked on the words. “That makes it so much better. Maybe you two should get married and have little stripper babies.”

Unwilling to listen to another word of his half-assed apology, I grabbed my purse and stood. “I got drunk last night, too. But guess what I didn’t do?” I gave a dramatic pause, but not for so long that he could respond. “I didn’t fall onto some guy’s dick.”

While he recovered from my tongue-lashing, I fumbled to find my keys.

He reached for my arm. “Reggie, just—”

I pulled away and shot him a you just fucked a nasty stripper glare. “Don’t you dare touch me with your disgusting hand. I don’t want stripper glitter on me.”

“Take some time and—”

“I’m going to work,” I snapped. “Get your shit out of my house. I mean it. I want you gone. The never-come-back kind of gone. Get your ridiculous furniture and whatever else you want out of here, leave your keys on the coffee table, and turn the lock when you go. If you leave anything here, I’ll light it on fire.”

I turned toward the door, took a few steps, and paused.

“Yeah.” I faced him. “I’m burning whatever you leave here, asshole. And, if you come back, I’ll have you arrested.”

“Arrested?” He shot up from his seat. “Reggie. I want to fix this. Where am I going to go?”

There were a lot of things he could have done that I would have forgiven him for. Shoplifting. A hit and run. A weekend-long heroin bender in Vegas with his friends from college. Stabbing a co-worker in a drunken rage.

Fucking a stripper?

Hell no. It was the epitome of slapping me in the face.

“There’s no fixing it.” I pulled the door open and glanced over my shoulder. “It’s over. Go buy a trailer house and move to the desert with your stripper friend. Goodbye. I never want to see you again.”

* * *

Wearing a look of defeat,Raymond glided across the sales floor. When he reached me, he raked his fingers through his highlighted locks and let out an exaggerated sigh. “The guy at the hat rack wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” I glanced toward the display of hats. A handsome man with a deep bronze tan looked in our direction. One of his arms was sleeved with tattoos. On the other, a few tattoos were sprinkled about. A bad boy, no doubt. I flashed him a smile before shifting my attention to Raymond. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” he said. “There are two of them. One, he’s looking for something we won’t be able to help him with; and two, he’s not gay.”

“You want everyone to be gay,” I said with a flippant wave of my hand. “What’s he looking for?”

“A hat.”

“What kind of hat?”

“A black flat bill.” He flipped his hair away from his eyes. “He said he bought one here ten years ago and he wants another one just like it.”

“Ten years?” I gasped in disbelief. “I doubt we’re going to be able to help him find another one. Especially not one just like it.”

He took a lingering glance over his shoulder. “When you talk to him,” he whispered. “Be careful.”

“Be careful?” I gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

He peeked in the man’s direction. “His eyes. They’re—”

“Is one of them wonky?” I said, interrupting him before he finished his thought. “If it is, I’m going to stare at it. I can’t help it.”’

“No,” he cooed. “They’re divine.”

The man perused the hats, seeming unsatisfied with each that he lifted from the display. I studied him as I approached. When I reached him, he looked up. Upon seeing me, he offered a shallow smile.

A quick glance at his brown eyes revealed a depth unlike anything I’d seen. I felt compelled to stare into them but refrained.