Page 102 of Changing Lanes

“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. And so do people that don’t eat, so chomp chomp. Coty’s orders.” Not really, but I know he still worries about her previous eating patterns resurfacing just like the rest of us, so she can deal with it, whether she likes it or not.

“You’re in so much trouble.”

I ignore Angela, choosing to dive into the paperwork Coty left behind while he’s out scouting location options for a second shop.

“You do know that, right? Beckett?”

“Angie, I love you, I really do, but if you try to set Paige up with another one of my employees, you’ll be out back using the hose to wash cars by hand.”

“Ha!” she barks out while I struggle to find the humor in that statement. I’ll go hook that shit up right now. I’ll even scribble out a little sign that says FREE CAR WASH, DONATIONS ACCEPTED for her. See if she’s still laughing then. I think not. “What about someone that’s not on your payroll then?”

I drop the paper to the desk, leveling her with my best authoritative look I can muster.

“You’re fired.”

Chick just snorts. “Lucky for you, you can’t fire me.”

“You mean lucky for you.”

She takes in the office like she’s a fucking tourist even though it’s as much hers as it is ours. The three of us may have bought and built the place from the ground up, but Angela is the blood flowing through the veins making it a living, breathing force that none of us could’ve predicted.

“No, I mean you. If you fire me then Coty will kick your ass,” now I’m the one snorting, “and hire me back anyway.” She cheeses one of her best smiles at me and I melt a little. Like a tiny bit. The rest of me is still bitter as fuck about her trying to play matchmaker with Paige and, well, anybody. No, I don’t like that one bit.

“Alright, fine. You can stay. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Don’t talk about my panties.” She waits a beat then adds, “It’s unprofessional.”

“Why can’t I talk about your panties? I used to see the fucking things every time I went to do laundry.” Her jaw drops. “Yeah, the whole building saw your dental floss with fringe,” I say, working to keep my laugh in.

Our building at Creekwood shares a laundry room and while there were many times I had to switch over her clothes when she lived next door to us, I don’t remember the exact details of her underwear. As a general rule, I don’t creep on my boys’ women.

Eyes closed, breath held, I’d grab them with another article of clothing used as a glove then just sort of toss them in the direction of the dryer. If they made it in, sweet. If not, well, Gary from down the hall probably stole them for spank bank material. The old bastard needs it. I’ve never seen him host a single visitor since we moved onto the same floor as him years ago.

Now if he stole Paige’s panties, that’d be a different situation. I’d have to…

“Why didn’t you ever pick them up then?” Angie screeches, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “That’s so embarrassing,” she whines, making me finally let out the laughter blocking my throat. “Whatever, crotch-mouth.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. Who’s unprofessional now?

“And FYI mine never had fringe. What kind of old ass women have you been with lately to know what fringe is anyway?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I haven’t been with anyone actually. Not since…”

Wait. Have I really not smashed anyone since she moved in? There were a couple stragglers I thought about trying with but just couldn’t make myself go through with it.

Angela plants her ass on the desk, looking me in the eye. “What are you doing?” At my silence, she continues, “With Paige. Are you two friends? Dating? Playing hide the drive shaft?”

My head shakes automatically. “What the hell kind of kinky shit do you and Coty get up to after hours?”

“Who says it’s after hours?” she deadpans, making us both crack up. “I tried asking her but she’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe worse.”

My ears perk up. “You guys talk about me?”

“Define talk.”

“You know, where you gush about how hot I am and brag about all the charity work I do.”

“Mmm,” Angie pretends to think it over, “no, there was no gushing. And you don’t do any charity work.”