Free Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

rollers — they all came to me to get inked. But I’ve been…away from the business for a little while –” I deliberately omit the part about being locked up in jail for the past three years. “– and I’m trying to figure out whether I should put it up for sale. The accounting is all messed up. The books aren’t up to date —”
     
    She cuts me off. “I’m not a bookkeeper.” She looks seriously offended.
     
    We’re stopped at a red light. “I know you’re not a bookkeeper. You’re a big, fancy auditor. But as you said, your options are limited. You either work for me,” I stick out one hand, “or go hand in your application at Billy’s Burger Bar.” I stick out my other hand and make a weighing motion.
     
    She groans, closing her eyes momentarily. Then her gaze moves to me and she scrutinizes me yet again, probably trying to gauge my seriousness. She sits there biting her lip as she considers my offer.
     
    “C’mon, Sam. I’ll pay you four times more than what you were willing to accept from those chumps who interviewed you today.”
     
    Her eyes go wide for a second. Then, she tilts her head and looks at me for a long while. “Okay,” she says despite the skepticism on her face. “Okay, I’ll work for you.”
     
    Now, I’m grinning from ear-to-ear as the streetlight turns green.
     
    She narrows her eyes at me. “But I have conditions, though,” she says sternly.
     
    I feign offense. “I’m the boss. I’m the one who gets to have conditions.”
     
    Her expression remains stoic. “I’m serious, Keeland.”
     
    I sigh. “Okay, hit me. What are your conditions?”
     
    She sits up straighter in her chair. “No more teasing. No more pulling my hair. I’m a professional and I’ll need you to take me seriously.”
     
    I hold up my palms, surrendering to her. “Fine. No more teasing. You’re a professional and I’ll treat you with respect.”
     
    She seems satisfied. She gives me a slight nod.
     
    “So, can we shake on it?” I ask.
     
    “We can shake on it.”
     
    She stretches out her small hand and my fingers wrap around her soft skin. Fuck — I kind of don’t want to let her go. I kind of want to pull her even closer.
     
    What’s that she said about treating her like a professional?
     
    She eases out of my grip. “And one last thing…” Red creeps up her neck and I hear an uneasiness in her voice. “Please, let’s forget that last night ever happened.”
     
    I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Of course,” I say.
     
    But I’m lying. The memory of Sammie Trotten going over the edge is indelibly tattooed into my mind.

Chapter 16

     
     
    Daniel grunts heavily as I maneuver the barbell out of his hands and ease it into the rack behind him.
     
    “You’re a fucking beast, D,” I say as I toss a towel over at him and it lands on his chest. Daniel is just an inch or so shorter than I am and we have a similar build. Throw in his explosive temper and he’s got the potential to be a monster under the right circumstances.
     
    He gives me a haughty grin. “I know it, man. I know it.” He sits up on the bench and wipes his forehead with the towel before taking a long drink of water. “You’re in pretty good shape, too.”
     
    I sink onto the bench across from him and pick up some free weights. “Not much else to do in jail.”
     
    A sympathetic look colors my best friend’s face. “It’s really fucked up what happened to you, bro. I wish there was something more I could have done to get you out of there sooner.”
     
    I shake my head. “Don’t sweat it. You helped me as much as you could have, given the circumstances and I appreciate that. You hooked me up with one of the best criminal defense attorneys in California and you rented me a place to stay once I got out. You’re the best friend a guy can ask for.”
     
    Daniel slings his sweaty towel at me. “Don’t get all emotional on me, Keeland. Please. You sound like you’re about to