Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) by K Larsen Read Free Book Online

warm feeling. The lights are all low and all the furniture has clean lines and is black. There are splashes of turquoise and yellow in all the artwork surrounding her desk. “I’m Penny,” she says. “Sit.” I try to unscrunch my face but it’s all screwed up in confusion. My linebacker escort nudges the small of my back to get me moving. I recoil at the contact and quickly move to the chair across from Penny to avoid any more unnecessary contact. Her short blonde hair is cut in a cute bob and hangs perfectly in place at her jawline. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly and finally looks to me.
    “You can go now, Brock,” she says while still checking me out. So linebacker dude does have a name. The door shuts softly behind me, leaving Penny and me alone. I wait silently but she says nothing.
    “Uh, I guess I’m at a disadvantage since I have no idea what’s going on,” I start.
    “Yes, it would seem that way, wouldn’t it,” she quips. Okay, not what I expected.
    “Okay.” I try.
    “Listen, clean yourself up. I’ll give you a week to pull it together. If you do that, you have a job. It’s not much. You’ll sling drinks to the tables on our busy nights. Your cousin seems to think you really need this job, and I’m inclined to think she’s right,” she chatters.
    “What did she say?” I urge.
    “She asked where you were and just about blew my eardrums out when I told her. She went on explaining that you recently lost someone important to you and are ‘self-medicating,’ her words not mine,” she explains. “She asked if I would employ you. I feel for you, honey, I really do. I’ve lost people who were important to me. Life’s hard. She said you're twenty-two so you're at least old enough to serve drinks. I said if you could go a week without showing your face in here blitzed, I’d give you a chance,” she finishes rather uneventfully. I’m surprised by the lack of judgment in her expression. She seems to just be a straight shooter. I like that.
    “Um, can I have time to think it over?” I ask.
    “Honey, if you want the job, stay sober for seven days and come back next Wednesday. If you’re here and not drunk off your ass, be prepared to work,” she answers unceremoniously.
    “Right. Okay. So, uh, can I go?” I fumble with my words.
    “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” she admonishes while nodding. I push up from the chair, wondering what the hell Aster has gotten me into. I don’t drink that much. Well, I don’t think I do. Maybe it’s true. Maybe I need to slow down a little. But how do I process everything going on inside without drinking myself numb? My hand stills on the doorknob as thoughts swirl through my mind.
    “Do you have my phone?” I ask, remembering that I seem to have misplaced it. I watch her open her desk drawer and fish it out. I walk back to her and take the phone from her outstretched hand, careful not to touch her. “Thanks,” I say.
    “Don’t thank me yet,” she shrugs. I turn and exit her office. The walk back out to the bar seems to take forever. My brain is going nuts with thoughts. I really want a drink. I’ve sort of accepted that my penance in life is to live; it’s to get up every morning that he can’t. I took that away from him and now I have to wake every day and put one foot in front of the other. The guilt drips into my chest through a pinhole, slowly drowning me. I want to go to sleep and not wake up. I want to drink myself into a stupor and not deal. I’m trying my best to get it together somehow, but I’m unraveling, searching for something that doesn't exist anymore. Screw you, Aster, for being so clever.
    I pass the bar, resolving to not stop for the drink I so desperately need. I can always have one at home anyways. “Bye, Brock,” I mumble arrogantly as I pass him. He smirks at me. He’s handsome, with adorable crinkles around his eyes when he smiles. Tugging my keys from my pocket I