Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“No,” I say firmly, forcing myself to give her a hard stare. “Absolutely not.”
Ash chews her thumbnail. “Jams told me you’re overbudget. She didn’t outright ask, but it was obvious she thinks you guys need some cash to get up and running. You know I can give you whatever you need, right? Call it a loan or an investment. Structure it however you want, I don’t care. I just want to see you two succeed.”
I look away from her, sitting still. My jaw works as anger rolls through me. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, but Jamila went ahead and talked to Ash behind my back. It pisses me off so much, mostly because Ash is so damn nice, and it kills me to be in this position.
I owe her everything. Hell, I look up to her like a big sister. She hired me when I was just a kid, fresh-faced, no college education, no nothing, trying to make it in the city. I moved out here from the suburbs when I turned twenty, left my parents behind, basically told them to fuck off. My dad’s an asshole, my mom’s even worse, and I couldn’t take living with them anymore.
I met Ash on my first day in the city. She hired me on the spot, threw an apron at me, and told me to bus tables. It was like she knew I needed help and couldn’t stop herself from saving me. She even gave me a week’s worth of pay up front, no questions asked, and if she hadn’t done all that, I probably would’ve ended up bouncing back to my parents’ house within a few days.
She saved my life. She gave me everything I have and more.
Which is exactly why I can’t take anything from her.
“You know I love you,” I say softly, not able to look at her. “You know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”
“You could just say no, but I do like how you’re buttering me up first,” she says with a hint of a laugh.
I crack a smile. “The answer is, I love you, but no, absolutely not, thanks anyway.”
She goes quiet for a second. Then she says, “Can I ask why?”
“Because you’ve already done too much. Because I love you so much.” I look at her, desperate for her to understand. “Because I’ve never done anything in my entire life all on my own, and if I go crawling back to you, asking for money, then I never will.”
She looks frustrated. “It’s not like that. We can call it a loan. Pretend I’m a bank—”
“We both know that isn’t fair and it’s not real. A bank wouldn’t loan me money, not even at loan-shark rates. I have no credit.”
She laughs like I’m joking, then frowns. “Wait. Really?”
I don’t bother answering. But it’s true, I have zero credit, mostly because I’ve been working in a cash industry in a city with good public transportation in a rented apartment. No need for credit. “I went into this with Jamila because we’re in the same position, you know? We’re struggling to make it work together. But if we start taking money from you, that just negates all our hard work. It’s like breezing through life on easy mode. Besides, I’ve already taken a ton from you. This whole venture is funded from the money you’ve paid me over the years.”
“Money you earned.” She sighs, stretching her back. “Look, I get it, I really do. And it’s honestly really admirable. But, Keels, nobody does anything on their own. Nobody in the whole world exists in a vacuum. I have Smoke because of my grandfather. He built Smoke because of a rich cousin that went into business with him. This whole city is built on chains of friendship and business stretching back, I don’t know, to the freaking stone age. Let your friends help you.”
I don’t say anything for a minute, processing that. I know she’s right, at least to an extent. But there’s a difference between struggling to build something all my own and getting cash thrown into my lap by my rich friend.
“Taking money from you would defeat the purpose. I’m sorry, Ash. I love you, but I can’t.”
She touches my arm. “Offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I know it does.”
“You’ll be okay. No matter what happens, you’ll be fine. You’re smart. And you’ve got great boobs.”
“They are really good,” I say with a dramatic sigh.
She laughs and heads back to work. I watch her go before throwing back my seltzer, worry lodged into my stomach.
But that worry quickly morphs into anger again.
Jamila never should’ve gone to Ash. I explicitly told her not to, but she did it anyway, and forced me to have that awkward conversation. I pull out my phone, my rage getting the better of me, and shoot off a text.