The Arrangement

by Ward, H. M.

  The Arrangement

  Vol. 1

  H.M. Ward

  www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com

  Laree Bailey Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by H.M. Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in

  any printed or electronic form.

  Laree Bailey Press

  First Edition: Jan 2013

  The Arrangement

  Vol. 1

  CHAPTER 1

  The night air is frigid. It doesn’t help that I’m stuck wearing this little black dress in my crap car. I shiver as I try to keep the engine running at a red light. My little battered car is from two decades ago and stalls if I don’t rev the engine while I have my foot on the brake. I’m driving with two feet, in a car that’s supposed to be an automatic. The heater doesn’t work. If I try to turn it on, I’ll get my face blasted with white smoke. It’s awesome, in an utterly humbling kind of way. At least the car is mine. It gets me where I need to go, most of the time.

  The light flips to green and I botch it. I don’t gas the car enough and it shutters and stalls. I grumble and grab for the can of ether. The cars behind me blare their horns.

  I ignore them. They can go around me. I grab the can on the seat next to me, kick open my door, and walk around to the hood. I shake the can and spray it into the engine intake. The car will start up as soon as I turn the key now, and I can drive away in shame.

  The night air is crisp and filled with exhaust. This road is always busy. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Angry drivers move around me. Everyone is always in a hurry. It’s part of the New York frame of mind. I’m treated to a catcall as a car full of guys blows past me. I flip them the bird and hear their laughter echo as they fade from sight.

  Tonight couldn’t possibly get any worse. I put the cap on the can of ether. Then it happens. My night takes a one-eighty straight into suckage.

  As I drop the hood, it slams shut, and I look through the windshield. “Seriously?” I say at the guy who jumps in my seat. He’s wearing a once-blue fluffy coat and hasn’t shaved for weeks. He turns the key and my crappy car roars to life. He gasses it and takes off, swerving around me. I stand in the lane staring after him. What a moron. Who’d steal that piece of trash?

  Still, it’s my car and I need it. After the night I had, I don’t want to run after him, but I have to. I need that car. I take off at a full run. My lungs start to burn as I suck in frozen air and exhaust. I run down the shoulder, avoiding trash that’s laying in the gutter. My attention is singularly focused on my car. I push my body harder and feel my muscles protest, but I don’t hold back. He’s getting away.

  I manage to run a block when a guy on a motorcycle slows next to me. “That guy stole your car.” He sounds shocked.

  I can’t see his face through the black helmet. It has a tinted visor that covers his face. “No shit, Sherlock,” I huff and keep running. My purse is in the car, my only pair of work acceptable heels, my books—awh, fuck—my books. I paid over a grand for those. They’re worth more than the car. I run faster. My dress flares around my thighs as my Chucks help me sprint forward. My body doesn’t want to do it. The stitch in my side feels like it’s going to bust open.

  The guy on the bike is annoying. He rolls next to me and flips up his face shield. I glance at him, wondering what he’s doing. Biker guy looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you trying to catch him?”

  “Yes,” pointing ahead, huffing. There are three lights on this stretch of road before the ramp to get on the parkway. If he hits a red light, the car will stall and I’ll get it back. My lungs are burning and it’s not like I have time to explain this. My car has already passed the first light. “If he stops, the car will stall.”

  “You want me to help?” he glances at the car and then back at me.

  I stop and nearly double over. Holy hell, I’m out of shape. I nod and throw my leg over the back of his bike, flashing the cars driving past us. I so don’t care. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hold on tight and say, “Go.”

  “I was going to call the cops, but this works, too.” He sounds amused. I hold onto his trim waist and plaster myself against his back. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and I can feel his toned body through the supple material. He pulls into traffic and zips through the lanes. The wind blasts my hair and plasters my eyelashes wide open. We bob and weave, getting closer and closer to my car. My heart is racing so fast that it’s going to explode.

  I see my car. It’s passing the second light. Motorcycle man punches it, and the bike flies under the second intersection just as the light changes. I manage not to shriek. My skirt flies up to my hips, but I don’t let go of the biker’s waist to push the fabric back down.

  We’re nearly there when the thief catches the third light. The car in front of him stops, forcing the carjacker to stop as well. As soon as he takes his foot off the gas, my car convulses and white smoke shoots out the tailpipe. The engine ceases. The driver’s side door is kicked open and the guy runs.

  Motorcycle man pulls up next to my car. I slip off the back of the bike, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can’t afford to lose this stuff. I’m barely making it as it is. I look at my car. Everything is still there. I turn back to the guy on the bike as I smooth my skirt back into place.

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I say, “Thanks.” I must seem insane.

  He flips his face shield up and says, “No problem. Does your car always do that?” A pair of blue eyes meets mine and the floor of my stomach gives way. Damn, he’s cute. No, not cute—he’s hot.

  “Get jacked? No, not always.”

  He smiles. There’s a dusting of stubble on his cheeks. I can barely see it because of the helmet. He raises an eyebrow at me and asks, “This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

  More times than you’d think. Criminals are really stupid. “Let’s just say, this isn’t the first time I had to chase after the car. So far no one’s made it to the parkway. That damn light takes forever and I keep stalling out in the same spot. You’d think I’d figure it out by now, but…” But I’m mentally challenged and prefer to chase after car thieves. I stop talking and press my lips together. His eyes run over my dress and pause on my sneakers, before returning to my face. Great, he thinks I’m mental.

  Turning to the car, I grab another can of ether from the backseat and walk around to the front. I dropped the last can somewhere behind me. I pop the hood and spray. I’m so cold that I’ve gone numb. As I walk back to my door, I shake my head saying, “Who steals a car that barely runs?”

  “Do you need any help?” The guy holds my gaze for a moment and my stomach twists. He seems sincere, which kills me. A strange compulsion to spill my guts tries to overtake me, but I bash it back down.

  Pressing my lips together, I shake my head, and swallow the lump in my throat. Today sucked. I’m totally alone. No one helps me, and yet this guy did. “No, I’m okay,” I lie as I slip into my car and yank the door shut. “Thanks for the ride.” I turn the engine over and smile at him. The window is down. It doesn’t go up.

  “Anytime.” He nods at me, like he wants to say something else. All I can see of his face is his crystal blue eyes and a beautiful mouth. He’s sitting on a bike that cost more than my tuition. He’s loaded and I’ve got nothing. A pang of remorse shots through me, but I need to go. The haves and the have-not weren’t made to mingle. I already learned that lesson once. I don’t need to learn it again.


  “Thanks,” I say before he can ask my name. “I’ll see you around.” I smile at him and drive away, holding back tears that are building behind my eyes.

  It’s weird. There are so many shitty people in the world, and on the worst day of my life, I finally find a nice one and I’m driving away from him.

  CHAPTER 2

  My dress swishes around my knees as I walk down the dorm hallway, toward my room. I’m holding my books under one arm and my heels in the other. My purse is over my shoulder. I have my keys in hand and shove one into the lock and twist. The knob turns and I push, walking forward. The door hits something and I walk into it, smacking my head and dropping everything. It’s late and I’m tired. I kick the door with my foot, knowing Amber (the worst roommate ever) blocked the door so I can’t get inside.

  “Open the door!” I scream and kick it again, but she doesn’t open up. I pick my books up off the floor and slip them between the crack in the door. I grab my heels and purse and walk to Melony’s room. I knock on the door jam and peek in.

  “Hey, how’d your night go?” Melony is leaning toward a mirror, putting on earrings that dangle. They sparkle like sunlight against her dark hair. Her skin is the color of caramel and so are her eyes. She looks like a supermodel. She’s wearing a dress that wraps around her narrow waist with a plunging neck line.

  “Sucked,” I say, laying back on her bed and staring at the ceiling. “I got carjacked again. I really thought thieves were smarter than that.”

  She turns and looks at me. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nah, some guy helped me. I got my car back and the idiot who took it didn’t steal anything. He ran when the car stalled. What a dumbass.” I press my fingers to my temples, trying to stop the headache that’s threatening to tear my brains apart.

  “What else happened?” She asks, since having car issues is a normal part of my life. “You seem way out of sorts.”

  I am way out of sorts. I’m quiet for a moment. I want to tell someone, but Mel has money and I have none. I work my ass off and I still can’t get ahead. I swallow hard and say it. “I can’t do it anymore, Mel. I can’t work and do school. If I don’t keep my GPA at a 3.5, I lose my scholarship, but if I don’t work—” I groan, covering my face with my arm.

  “You can’t live. Yeah, I get it.” She says, putting away her make-up.

  “I don’t know what to do. I have a huge test on Monday and I haven’t even cracked open the book yet. Then, when the car got jacked—damn—all that I could think was that I’m going to fail the test on Monday without my book. I ran down Deer Park Avenue like a lunatic, chasing a stolen textbook.”

  The bed next to me dips and I realize Mel is sitting there. “You need a new job, honey.”

  “I know, but it’s the same everywhere. Nobody pays enough. I work until I drop dead at night, and I’m still eating Ramen noodles. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  She pats my arm, pulling it away from my face. Her golden eyes meet mine. “Listen, I have to check in at work, take care of some paperwork for tomorrow, and do a few things. My boss is going to be there. You should come and meet her.”

  I look up at her, “What? And work at a hotel?”

  Mel smiles at me funnily, and nods. “Yeah, I mean, why not? It’s a good job, it pays great, and the hours are perfect. I work way less than you and make way more.”

  “That was blunt.”

  She stands and smoothes her dress, “You need blunt these days, Avery. You’re a mess, your car is a death trap, and you’re totally alone. A big pay check will fix some of that.”

  I don’t want to go. My body aches. I’m over tired, and going out again sounds like suckage. At the same time, she’s right. Money would fix some of my problems. “Since we’re being blunt, how much are we talking about?”

  “More than enough for you and all your bills. What you earn in a month, I make every weekend.” She stares at me with those tiger eyes and I dart upright on the bed.

  “Are you serious?” I think Mel’s toying with me, but she nods. “What the hell do you do?”

  Mel laughs and shakes her head. “Just come. Talk to my boss. If you’re a good fit, she’ll give you a job. It’s what you want, right?”

  I push myself up, muttering, “You suck. Fine, I’ll come. But I was planning on spending some quality time with Amber tonight.”

  Melony scoffs and says, “Yeah, right.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Melony drives a sporty black coupe that puts my car to shame. It stops and goes. The windows move up and down. The heater works. OMFG, the heater! I could die. I slump back into the leather when the heated seat warms up. “I could live in this car.”

  “Holy hell, we need to get you off the poor train. Did you hear what you just said?” She looks over at me briefly, before returning her gaze to the road.

  I nod and totally don’t care. The leather is warm and I have my head tipped back and my eyes closed. “You try living with Amber for a semester and we’ll see what crazy crap comes out of your mouth.”

  “Did she lock you out again?”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “She’s probably having sex with her creepy boyfriend on my couch.” I need more Lysol. I cringe thinking about it. How I ended up with such a rank roommate is beyond me. It’s like the university asked me all those questions on the roommate application thingie to see if I could manage using a pencil okay. I thought I proved that I could use a pencil when I took my SATs. Guess not.

  Melony’s little car darts through traffic. We stop at a light and she looks at me. “That guy gives me the creeps.”

  “Me too. It’s like her guy radar only picks out soon-to-be-felons. Listen, my nerves are so frayed, I can’t talk about Amber anymore. My frickin’ eye is twitching.” And it is. The lower right lid is going nuts, blinking for no reason. I press my finger to it, trying not to smear my make-up.

  “Fine by me. So,” she changes the subject, “are you seeing anyone?”

  I laugh in response, and then realize she’s really asking, “Uhm, no. With what time? If I’m not at class, I’m at work. If I’m not at work, I’m at class. I don’t even have time to sleep. Am I dating?” I say mockingly and laugh, shaking my head. My dark hair falls over my shoulders.

  “Back off, Cujo. I was just asking, trying to get a feel for things.”

  “What things? Things that’ll never happen this side of hell.”

  “Sounding a little bitter there, Avery.”

  I smile weakly at her. She’s just trying to help. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Today had to be the worst day of my life. Besides the douche that stole the car, I had the worst customer. He screamed at me forever and then went to my boss. I’m a fucking hostess. Like I have anything to do with his meal?” I press my fingers to my head and lean my elbow on the door. My job is to seat people at a steakhouse. That’s it. I have nothing to do with anything else, but this guy wouldn’t back off. He seemed to think his night was ruined because of me. By the time he got hold of the manager, somehow everything was my fault. My boss made me look like it was my fault and that sums up my night at work. Absentmindedly, I twist a lock of my hair between my fingers. “It was just one of those days and I’m sick of having them.”

  “My job is a little unorthodox, but I never have to deal with that shit.” Mel shifts in her seat.

  I glance at her. “Unorthodox? What do you mean?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.” We drive on in silence.

  About forty minutes later, we are at a building in Manhattan. A street light floods the sidewalk in front. It looks like an office building. We go inside and ride the elevator up to the seventeenth floor. When the doors open, we’re standing in an open space. The room is decorated in browns and beiges with little splashes of color here or there. It looks like an office.

  I glance at Mel. “I thought you worked at a hotel?”

  “I do, but this is where I check in.” She walks past me and turns a corner. I follow her down a hallway. Mel stops
in front of an office door. She smoothes her dress, like she’s nervous, and knocks. Looking back at me she says quickly, “Don’t say anything. Just listen and answer whatever she asks you.”

  My brows pull together. What the hell am I doing here? Mel is dressed up and from the looks of it, we are in an empty office space. There’s no music, no noise. It’s totally silent.

  “Enter,” a female voice says, and Melony pushes the door open. A woman in her early forties sits behind a glass desk. She doesn’t look up. “Right on time. Come in and close the door.”

  Mel’s voice cracks, “I brought someone for you to meet.” The woman at the desk lifts her eyes and sees me. She immediately shoots daggers at Mel. Mel holds up her hands, explaining, “I didn’t say anything. I told her to come and talk to you. I didn’t breech my contract, Miss Black. I need to keep this job, but my friend here is in the same position as I was and I thought you were looking for someone new.”

  I know Mel told me to stay quiet, but I can’t. I don’t want her to lose her job because of me. “It’s all right. I can wait in the car.” I turn to leave.

  The woman behind the desk rises. Her gaze slips over me quickly. She says to Mel, “Family? Boyfriend? Funding?”

  “No to all three,” Mel answers.

  I stop and stare at the two of them.

  “Come with me, Miss. We’ll have a chat. Melony can wait here.” The woman walks swiftly past me. We move to a table in the back corner of the floor. There is a couch behind us and some more nondescript art on the walls. She sits at the table. It’s metal with a glass top. I sit across from her and cross my ankles and pull them under my seat. It feels like an interview.

  “Miss Black,” I say apologetically, “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening. Mel said this was a good job and I need a good job, so I came.”