Read Online Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) by Felicia X. Scully - Free Book Online
Authors: Felicia X. Scully
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at UDub. Those are my people.”
She grins. “Ah, so debauchery’s like a way of life for you then.”
“An occasional pitcher of beer, here and there.”
“That’s it? No cheerleaders? No wild parties?”
“Not really my thing. What about you? What do you do for fun?”
Sydney stares at me for a few moments and I shift in my seat, waiting for her response.
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re telling me the truth,” she says. “Or if you’re just trying to impress a potential agent. Not that you need help with that.”
“The whole church boy thing is a myth,” I reply, focusing on the way her hair flows over her bare shoulder. “For the most part. My dad’s a pastor, but it doesn’t mean I’m completely innocent all the time.”
“So, that four thousand dollar bottle of vodka I sent wasn’t an awful idea after all. Reese will be relieved.”
“Actually, I only drink beer. So yeah, it’s still sitting in the gift box it came in.”
“Damn it. What a waste.” She rubs her eyes.
“I drink once in a while. Usually when I have a rough day but, other than that, I pretty much stick to the books. And the gym.”
“Yeah.” She reaches out and her fingers graze my chest. “It shows.”
My gaze holds hers and she quickly pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to her palm. “I’m sorry. That was totally uncalled for. Shit, I’m a little buzzed right now. I swear I’m not always like this—the chick with the drink in her hand. I know that’s probably hard to believe considering the past forty-eight hours and all, but I swear—”
I chuckle. “It’s okay.”
Sydney nods toward the entrance. “Um, so yeah. I should probably head out of here.”
“Don’t. It’s okay really. Besides, you didn’t even answer my question. What do you do for fun?”
She hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin on top of them. “Not much. Ever since I got here, I’ve pretty much just been working. I have my own business, sort of, on the side. And I fill in the extra hours helping out Reese. She’s pretty much my person right now. My mom’s in Florida with my…um, I guess you’d call him my stepdad. Technically. Only met the guy once. At the wedding but…”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she shrugs. “It was one of those quick romances. She met him about a month after my dad died. People do that you know?” She says it like she’s trying to convince herself. “They look for someone to fill the void. I was pissed at first. But I got over it. Moved out here and never looked back.”
“From Texas.”
“Sweetwater.”
I clear my throat, reluctant to bring it up, but too curious not to. “Your dad died?”
Sydney’s gaze darts from the seat of the booth, up to mine and she blinks her eyes once in silent confirmation.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
I should tell her I feel her pain. That she’s not alone. That I know what it’s like. But I can’t bring myself to talk about it. It’s selfish, but I hold onto it anyway.
“Your business. What is it?” I ask, instead.
“I’m a P.I. Totally amateur. I mean, like, I don’t have any real qualifications or anything. Just one online certificate that isn’t worth a damn. I’m mostly home trained. But I’m good. I mean, not at everything. I am just one girl, but I…you know...I like it. Wish I could do it full-time.”
“You’re a private investigator? Seriously?”
She shakes her head. “Yes, and that’s the response I usually get, which is why most people don’t know.”
“What do you mean? What response?”
“Disbelief. Amusement. Skepticism. ‘That girl can’t be more than sixteen, what does she know?’ That response.”
I put my hands up in defense. “No way. I just think it’s really cool. I mean it’s an actual job. You provide a service. You help people.” Which is more than I can say for myself. I provide mindless entertainment.
“Well, let’s not get carried away. I helped
She grins. “Ah, so debauchery’s like a way of life for you then.”
“An occasional pitcher of beer, here and there.”
“That’s it? No cheerleaders? No wild parties?”
“Not really my thing. What about you? What do you do for fun?”
Sydney stares at me for a few moments and I shift in my seat, waiting for her response.
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re telling me the truth,” she says. “Or if you’re just trying to impress a potential agent. Not that you need help with that.”
“The whole church boy thing is a myth,” I reply, focusing on the way her hair flows over her bare shoulder. “For the most part. My dad’s a pastor, but it doesn’t mean I’m completely innocent all the time.”
“So, that four thousand dollar bottle of vodka I sent wasn’t an awful idea after all. Reese will be relieved.”
“Actually, I only drink beer. So yeah, it’s still sitting in the gift box it came in.”
“Damn it. What a waste.” She rubs her eyes.
“I drink once in a while. Usually when I have a rough day but, other than that, I pretty much stick to the books. And the gym.”
“Yeah.” She reaches out and her fingers graze my chest. “It shows.”
My gaze holds hers and she quickly pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to her palm. “I’m sorry. That was totally uncalled for. Shit, I’m a little buzzed right now. I swear I’m not always like this—the chick with the drink in her hand. I know that’s probably hard to believe considering the past forty-eight hours and all, but I swear—”
I chuckle. “It’s okay.”
Sydney nods toward the entrance. “Um, so yeah. I should probably head out of here.”
“Don’t. It’s okay really. Besides, you didn’t even answer my question. What do you do for fun?”
She hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin on top of them. “Not much. Ever since I got here, I’ve pretty much just been working. I have my own business, sort of, on the side. And I fill in the extra hours helping out Reese. She’s pretty much my person right now. My mom’s in Florida with my…um, I guess you’d call him my stepdad. Technically. Only met the guy once. At the wedding but…”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she shrugs. “It was one of those quick romances. She met him about a month after my dad died. People do that you know?” She says it like she’s trying to convince herself. “They look for someone to fill the void. I was pissed at first. But I got over it. Moved out here and never looked back.”
“From Texas.”
“Sweetwater.”
I clear my throat, reluctant to bring it up, but too curious not to. “Your dad died?”
Sydney’s gaze darts from the seat of the booth, up to mine and she blinks her eyes once in silent confirmation.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
I should tell her I feel her pain. That she’s not alone. That I know what it’s like. But I can’t bring myself to talk about it. It’s selfish, but I hold onto it anyway.
“Your business. What is it?” I ask, instead.
“I’m a P.I. Totally amateur. I mean, like, I don’t have any real qualifications or anything. Just one online certificate that isn’t worth a damn. I’m mostly home trained. But I’m good. I mean, not at everything. I am just one girl, but I…you know...I like it. Wish I could do it full-time.”
“You’re a private investigator? Seriously?”
She shakes her head. “Yes, and that’s the response I usually get, which is why most people don’t know.”
“What do you mean? What response?”
“Disbelief. Amusement. Skepticism. ‘That girl can’t be more than sixteen, what does she know?’ That response.”
I put my hands up in defense. “No way. I just think it’s really cool. I mean it’s an actual job. You provide a service. You help people.” Which is more than I can say for myself. I provide mindless entertainment.
“Well, let’s not get carried away. I helped
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