Read Online Other Broken Things by C. Desir - Free Book Online Page B

the reason you think that is because you lie all the time. That’s what alcoholics do. And once you get real with the fact that more than likely you’re the only liar in the room, you’ll save yourself a ton of grief. And you’ll start to trust people.”
    I want to snark back. I want to call her out on drinking the AA Kool-Aid without thinking critically about what a huge crock it all is, trusting some higher power to get yourself clean. Like some invisible dude in the sky is going to be able to make you say no when your friend is standing in front of you with a pitcher of margaritas or is going to swoop in when everything gets snatched away from you.
    But I say nothing and take another drag of my cigarette. Kathy smiles.
    â€œGood. You’re already learning. Shut up and listen. You’ll get out of the hole eventually.”

Chapter
Eleven
    The pancake breakfast is hopping. Which means a bunch of super-old guys who reek of cigarettes and pee are waiting in a line for someone to hand them a Styrofoam plate containing two sausages and three pancakes drowned in syrup. Joe’s standing behind the tub of sausages, tonging two onto a plate, then passing the plate to a younger woman who adds pancakes and a soup ladle of syrup. She offers a big smile to every one of the dudes she passes a plate to.
    Kathy joins the back of the line and points me to Joe.
    â€œUnless you want to eat first?” she adds.
    â€œUm, no. Gross.” I’m about to ask her if maybe our little coffee chat this morning counted as a reason to sign my court card, but I don’t want to push it after she called me out for being hungover.
    I walk over to Joe with my head up and my shoulders back. I splashed some water on my face at Starbucks so I’m feeling much better. He sees me and shakes his head.
    â€œYou’re going to need a hairnet for that hair. And if you show up again hungover, I’m sending you home.”
    Jesus. Do these people have some sort of built-in sobriety chip?
    â€œYou’re not the boss of me.” Okay, I’m five. But whatever. A hello would’ve been nice.
    â€œNo. She is. Natalie, this is Kara. Kara, this is Natalie. Nat’s got community service hours. She can help you out for probably the next five or six months.”
    Kara beams at the same time I sputter, “Six months?”
    He looks at me, gaze darting over my face, then down the rest of me in a quick perusal. “How many hours do you have?”
    â€œA hundred.”
    He lifts a shoulder. “Well, there you go. Five hours once a week. Twenty weeks. You’ll be here the next five months, give or take, depending on holidays and your schedule. I thought you were good at math?”
    â€œFuck off.”
    He laughs. Kara is still smiling wide and handing plates to the guys in line. She’s put so much syrup on each plate the sausages look as if they’re floating in a moat.
    â€œYou probably could ease up on the syrup,” I suggest.
    â€œOh. You know syrup? Great. You can do that. I’ll hand the plates to you, you add the syrup, and give them to the guys. Our regular syrup guy is in Florida.”
    â€œLucky,” I mumble before sliding next to her. Joe chuckles and pulls something from a box behind him before handing it to me.
    I look at it. “Hairnet? You were for real about that?”
    â€œOf course I was. No one wants to come across one of those curls while they’re eating. Put it on.”
    â€œYes, sir.” I stick out my tongue and he laughs at me again.
    â€œI know you’re meeting with Kathy on Sunday mornings, but you’ll need to do that earlier. We need you here by eight for setup. Breakfast is nine to noon. An hour of cleanup afterward.”
    â€œI’m supposed to meet Kathy earlier than eight? Are you fucking kidding me?”
    â€œNo,” he says, and it’s clear he’s not. “She’s good for it. She’s usually