Page 104 of Detour

The dark look he pins us with wipes the smile from my face.

CHAPTER 36

Angela

My fingers pinch the smooth plastic in my pocket as I stroll across the asphalt behind Hot Spots. The boys thought they should come, too, just in case. After much deliberation, I conceded one could come but only if I got to drive my own car. I glance over my shoulder, seeing all three occupying my vintage Jeep. Well, I got part of my wish.

I round the corner to the office door swaying open and ignore whoever’s spraying down the car in the bay. Joe straightens at my approach, but I bypass him completely, heading straight for the stairs. I smirk as my sneakers pound up the creaky steps. That’s right, I’m going to talk to the big man. The owner. Joe’s boss. Coty called him this morning, claiming he wanted to meet about a collaboration for an upcoming event. Walter basically jumped at the chance to get his name out there and promised he’d be in his office today to go over everything. I would feel bad but the dirtbag he’s entrusted with running things in his long absences has shattered any sympathy I might’ve shown otherwise.

Walter startles as the door bounces off the wall.

“Can I help you?” he snips.

Of course he doesn’t know me. Why would he? He doesn’t bother himself with such menial tasks such as getting to know the faces keeping his business afloat.

“Probably not, but you will.”

Bushy salt and pepper eyebrows sink as the older man’s cloudy eyes narrow. Grayish blond hair feathers over his droopy ears with a rather large nose as the focal point on his weathered face while a rumpled joke of a suit hangs limply off his figure. What size is that thing? Also, are shit brown suits still a thing? Were they ever?

The whole office is covered with a half-inch thick coat of dust with papers strewn about on every surface. The desk he’s sitting at has an empty picture frame next to a knocked over jar of pens. The leather chair sitting opposite him has fissures like scratches covering the seat and I’m guessing they didn’t come from people visiting this office, but another from a time long ago. The place has a scattered, yet forgotten, vibe.

“Tell me,” I pull the flash drive from my pocket to set it on his desk, “how does a sexual harassment lawsuit against your company sound?”

As it turns out, Coty never stopped recording after his ride last night and managed to catch Joe’s late-night visit on camera.

Walter’s caterpillar eyebrows shoot to his hairline and I suppress a smirk, knowing I’ve gained his full attention. Dragging the tattered chair against the scuffed vinyl floor, I take a seat then start from the beginning.

* * *

“I still think you should talk to him about going in on a promotion together. The guy’s a little out of touch, but the wash is popular. Maybe it’ll bring both companies more customers.”

After coming downstairs to find all three of my guys standing outside my Jeep like my own security detail, we went out for a late lunch together—at their expense unfortunately, since I’m now unemployed. A surprised, but not completely shocked, Walter offered me a promotion but I refused. Joe was the biggest issue there but he certainly wasn’t the only problem at Hot Spots. As much as Joe protested, you can’t argue with video proof so he was fired on the spot. Steve, however, was able to keep his job even after everything I told Walter, but it was his word against mine and all that. Nothing new sadly, but disheartening all the same.

“We don’t need that tool’s help.” Marc speaks from the back seat. I glance at him in the rearview mirror through the stray hairs flying around my face. “Ours will be ten times better than his shit ever was.”

Frowning, I turn to Coty in the passenger seat. His knuckles gripping the roll bar tighten as he stares ahead, avoiding me.

“Your what?” When he remains silent, I quirk an eyebrow at Beckett lounging beside Marc, his motorcycle tee billowing around him. Eyes the size of saucers meet mine in the mirror before snapping to Coty.

“Bro, you didn’t tell her yet?”

Squinting at Coty again, I press, “Tell me what?”

Coty sighs, dropping his hands to his lap. Over his shoulder, he says, “We’ve been a little occupied, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, bangin’,” Beckett accuses.

Accurate? Yes.

Crass? Also, yes.

I catch Coty shaking his head out of the corner of my eye and sing-song, “No more sleepovers at your place.”

“Like that will help,” Beckett scoffs. “Angie sleeps with her windows open, everybody knows that. Just like everybody knows Angie also has sex with her windows open.”

Coty lunges between the seats, setting off laughs from the entire car. Marc separates the two, then Coty lands in his seat with a thud.

He notices me sneaking peeks, asking, “What?”