Other Broken Things by C. Desir Read Free Book Online

inside my dark car. “I don’t know. Do you have any cigarettes?” Because yes, I’m out of them again.
    He laughs. “I always have cigarettes. I can’t figure out why you don’t. Your parents are rich, right?”
    â€œOh my fucking God. Have you done a background check on me?”
    â€œHardly. I saw your mom pick you up in a Lexus. I’m guessing you can’t get one of those on layaway.”
    I snort. “What even is layaway? Is that an old-guy thing?”
    This is all strangely comfortable and I’m not sure what to make of that. I’m not creeped out by it. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’ve fucked around with dudes I’ve had less conversation with. Maybe Joe is some kind of father figure; my sober way of working through daddy abandonment issues.
    â€œI’m at the O’Hare Oasis. If you feel like talking and smoking, have your mom drop you off here.”
    My stomach swoops a little, butterflies taking off in a mad frenzy. So I guess not daddy issues, then.
    I grin. “I’ll have you know, thanks to my dad’s handy-dandy car-starting Breathalyzer, I’m driving my own wheels. So I’ll see you in fifteen.”
    I click off the line and slide my phone into my coat pocket. I trace my finger along the edge of the business card Joe gave me. Geothermal heating-and-cooling specialist. What the hell is that? I drop his card back into my purse and smile to myself a little. I’ve never messed around with an older guy before.

Chapter
Eight
    My phone is going crazy with texts as I pull into the oasis. I’ve ignored them for the past fifteen minutes because I don’t need to get back on the cops’ radar with a ticket for texting and driving. Plus that shit’s not safe.
    I park and pull out my phone. A passive-aggressive text from Mom. Just checking if the meeting’s over yet? And three booty call texts from Brent, plus one more saying, You owe me a conversation, Nat. Whatever.
    I text Mom back. Meeting is done. Having some fellowship time with some of the women here. Found a sponsor. Be home in an hour or two. Don’t worry, the Breathalyzer still works on the car.
    She texts back a smiley face, a Christmas tree, and two Santa emoticons. And I’m the one with the problem.
    The O’Hare Oasis is like a megamall of shitty food joints. Joe is sitting at a table outside Popeyes with two biscuits on a plate in front of him. I slide into the chair across from him and snatch a biscuit.
    â€œWhy, yes, Natalie, I did buy those for you. You’re welcome.”
    I smile at him. “They wouldn’t be sitting here if they weren’t for me. These biscuits are addictive. I’m surprised you resisted the temptation of devouring them yourself. You must really like me.”
    He pulls off his baseball cap and sets it and a pack of Parliaments on the table. “Actually, I can’t figure out what I think of you yet.”
    â€œI find the quickest way for people to get a read on me is to get me naked. It clears up a lot of confusion.”
    I’m in my element here. This, I know how to do. Guys are such suckers for girls who talk dirty. I don’t mean really dirty, just enough to tease them into thinking you’re into them.
    Only, Joe doesn’t react how most guys do. “Natalie. What is it you’re trying to accomplish here? I’m not going to sleep with you, if that’s what you’re hoping. And I’m not going to enable you. So what do you want?”
    Huh. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”
    â€œI’m thirty-eight.”
    I smirk. “That’s not an answer. Plus you’re kind of hot for thirty-eight, and you look a whole lot better than most of those dried-out alkies.”
    â€œDo you know anything about AA?”
    â€œIt works if you work it.”
    He rolls his eyes and I can almost see what he would’ve looked like at my age. Fewer