Read Online My Soul To Keep (Soul Series Book 1) by Kennedy Ryan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kennedy Ryan
Tags: My Soul to Keep
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self-aware grin. “Friend to friend.”
“Grady’s Rhyson’s uncle.” We stare at each other with saucer eyes. “Can you believe that? I work for Grady. We take lessons from Grady, and we had no idea his nephew is one of the biggest rock stars in the world.”
“What the ever-living fuck?” San’s mouth hangs open a little before he snaps it shut.
“Apparently, Grady and Rhyson’s father are twin brothers,” I add.
My voice has dropped to a whisper, and I stop myself from looking over my shoulder. This feels wrong. I’m not divulging huge secrets or anything, but I’m pretty sure Rhyson isn’t the forthcoming type. For whatever reason, he was with me. He drove me around when he didn’t have to and told me things he probably shouldn’t tell some random girl he met at his uncle’s house. He had no reason to trust me. I hate to think I’m betraying that trust, even in the smallest way.
“San, just don’t mention this to anyone, okay?”
San frowns and sucks his teeth.
“I’m not working for Spotted yet, Kai, and even if I were, I wouldn’t do that.” San walks over to my dresser and picks up my hairbrush, bringing some order to his pillow-rumpled hair and meeting my eyes in the mirror. “He asked about you today, by the way.”
My heart thump-thumps in my chest, and a small heat wave overtakes my body.
“Did he?” As casual as I can, I bend to tie my left Converse. “What’d he say?”
“Just asked how you were doing.” San turns to face me, wearing my least favorite knowing grin. “Did you expect more after you friend zoned him so hard?”
Why do I tell San my secrets? He only rubs them in at the worst times.
“Let’s go.” I head to the door, shutting down this train of thought with a stern look over my shoulder. “I can’t be late.”
“I think you like him.”
“Whatever.” I’m not going there with him. “So what are you and Ginny up to?”
San presses his lips into a smile before surrendering to my subject change.
“She’s taking me to this party to meet the producers of Spotted . Get me some face time with the powers that be. Basically a cocktail interview. You know half the business in this town takes place at parties.”
“Must be why I’m having such a hard time breaking into the business.”
I drag my feet through our small apartment, grabbing keys and my bag along the way. I really don’t feel like working tonight. For just a second, I consider calling in, but then that red-splattered medical bill pricks my memory. I climb into the front seat and start mentally preparing myself for the long, uneventful night ahead.
THIS NIGHT HAS BEEN ANYTHING BUT uneventful. Bull, the owner, pulled me to the side as soon as I got to work. One of the cooks was late, and he needed me to cover. If I could rewind to my interview for this job, I would never have mentioned my kitchen experience. That kitchen gets so hot and busy. By the time the cook showed up, my perky ponytail was limp, my armpits were soaked, and I had sweated off what little makeup I started the night with.
From there, it only got worse. A volleyball team rushed in, a flock of teenage girls giggling and taking forever to order. A group of truckers rambled in, boisterous and loud, and of course, having trouble keeping their hands to themselves. I swear, if I swat one more paw away from my butt, somebody’s meeting the unfriendly end of my box cutter.
Some nights zoom because things are so busy. Others drag because the place is dead and I’m bored out of my mind. This is some hybrid night, where we’re slammed against the wall busy, but time still seems to be crawling. I glance at the clock over the entrance to the kitchen one more time. I’m sure that big hand has only moved five minutes in the last hour.
Misty, the only waitress I’ve managed to befriend, walks by with a loaded tray balanced on her arm. All the others act like this is still high school. They talk about one another behind each
“Grady’s Rhyson’s uncle.” We stare at each other with saucer eyes. “Can you believe that? I work for Grady. We take lessons from Grady, and we had no idea his nephew is one of the biggest rock stars in the world.”
“What the ever-living fuck?” San’s mouth hangs open a little before he snaps it shut.
“Apparently, Grady and Rhyson’s father are twin brothers,” I add.
My voice has dropped to a whisper, and I stop myself from looking over my shoulder. This feels wrong. I’m not divulging huge secrets or anything, but I’m pretty sure Rhyson isn’t the forthcoming type. For whatever reason, he was with me. He drove me around when he didn’t have to and told me things he probably shouldn’t tell some random girl he met at his uncle’s house. He had no reason to trust me. I hate to think I’m betraying that trust, even in the smallest way.
“San, just don’t mention this to anyone, okay?”
San frowns and sucks his teeth.
“I’m not working for Spotted yet, Kai, and even if I were, I wouldn’t do that.” San walks over to my dresser and picks up my hairbrush, bringing some order to his pillow-rumpled hair and meeting my eyes in the mirror. “He asked about you today, by the way.”
My heart thump-thumps in my chest, and a small heat wave overtakes my body.
“Did he?” As casual as I can, I bend to tie my left Converse. “What’d he say?”
“Just asked how you were doing.” San turns to face me, wearing my least favorite knowing grin. “Did you expect more after you friend zoned him so hard?”
Why do I tell San my secrets? He only rubs them in at the worst times.
“Let’s go.” I head to the door, shutting down this train of thought with a stern look over my shoulder. “I can’t be late.”
“I think you like him.”
“Whatever.” I’m not going there with him. “So what are you and Ginny up to?”
San presses his lips into a smile before surrendering to my subject change.
“She’s taking me to this party to meet the producers of Spotted . Get me some face time with the powers that be. Basically a cocktail interview. You know half the business in this town takes place at parties.”
“Must be why I’m having such a hard time breaking into the business.”
I drag my feet through our small apartment, grabbing keys and my bag along the way. I really don’t feel like working tonight. For just a second, I consider calling in, but then that red-splattered medical bill pricks my memory. I climb into the front seat and start mentally preparing myself for the long, uneventful night ahead.
THIS NIGHT HAS BEEN ANYTHING BUT uneventful. Bull, the owner, pulled me to the side as soon as I got to work. One of the cooks was late, and he needed me to cover. If I could rewind to my interview for this job, I would never have mentioned my kitchen experience. That kitchen gets so hot and busy. By the time the cook showed up, my perky ponytail was limp, my armpits were soaked, and I had sweated off what little makeup I started the night with.
From there, it only got worse. A volleyball team rushed in, a flock of teenage girls giggling and taking forever to order. A group of truckers rambled in, boisterous and loud, and of course, having trouble keeping their hands to themselves. I swear, if I swat one more paw away from my butt, somebody’s meeting the unfriendly end of my box cutter.
Some nights zoom because things are so busy. Others drag because the place is dead and I’m bored out of my mind. This is some hybrid night, where we’re slammed against the wall busy, but time still seems to be crawling. I glance at the clock over the entrance to the kitchen one more time. I’m sure that big hand has only moved five minutes in the last hour.
Misty, the only waitress I’ve managed to befriend, walks by with a loaded tray balanced on her arm. All the others act like this is still high school. They talk about one another behind each
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