GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

drowned in. The man was haunting her, and she knew she deserved the ghost of love-life past. Slowly but surely, she slid the soap along her skin, going over every inch with meticulous precision. She winced when the icky thoughts tried to go on repeat, like heartburn. The shame of it all suddenly made her feel filthy and grimy; it had nothing on the thick, sludgy oil remains embedded under her nails and the obsidian colored dust that coated her hair from toying with that damn bike. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but wasn’t convinced she could wash the humiliation away or admit the truth, even to herself. But she had to, so she did, and right then and there, it stared her in the face.
    “David… I’m sorry,” she whispered as she reached for the shower faucet and cut the water short, choking out the words. “I’m so sorry.”
    She quickly swiped at another budding tear that had the audacity to try and make an appearance, make a fool of her. Stepping out of the tub enclosure, she grabbed a butterscotch towel, wrapped it around her dripping wet body, and flung the door open to be immediately kissed by a brush of cool air. Her bare wet feet left footprints all along the uneven floorboards as she walked to her bedroom, dried off, and put on a fresh pair of panties and bra. The sounds from the living room television reached her. Clara was watching music videos…
    The sound of Lauren Hill’s classic, ‘Ex-Factor’, serenaded her as she flipped through her closet and removed a black, long-sleeved shirt from an upper shelf and a pair of newly laundered jeans. Bobbing her head to the heavy bass beat, she dropped to her knees and grabbed her shearling-lined black boots. Still dancing about as she slipped the garments on, she sang the lyrics while moving about, looking here and there for her gold hoop earrings. She swooped them off the dresser, grabbed the keys to her black Kia Optima, and headed up the hall.
    “Alright, I’m ready.” She sighed.
    Clara turned towards her, her face morphing to an expression of disgust as if she were looking at some scaly reptile stuffed in a pair of pumps.
    “No, tha fuck you’re not !” She scanned her up and down real fast a few thousand times for good measure. “You ain’t going no where with me, looking like that, Silver!”
    “What?!” Silver raised her arms and looked down at her shirt and boots, then back into her friend’s eyes. “Why is this a problem? I’m clean.” She did a three-sixty turn. “My clothes are clean, too.”
    “Your hair ain’t combed, your face is dry and plain. You know better than this. I’ve seen you dressed better to go pull weeds! What tha hell is going on with you?”
    “What the hell is going on with me?” Silver pointed at herself. “You mean what the hell is going on with you ! I just worked ten hours, Clara, with no lunch break… A woman is tired, okay?! I ain’t been behind a make-up counter like you all day, gigglin’ and telling women how nice they look and they’d look even better if they smeared some pore-clogging shit they can’t afford all over their face.”
    “Oh, so now you want to turn this into something personal? I have you know, Silver, I am selling self-esteem, not silliness, and I’m a make-up artist, damn it! I sell the cosmetics to help make ends meet and I’m good at what I do, okay? That was a low blow!”
    Silver sighed and looked towards the television. After deliberating a moment or two, she did what she always hated to do…
    “Alright, I’m sorry, Clara… but damn, your naggin’ is ridiculous tonight. I’m bushed, okay? Cut me a break. And besides, we’re not going out to see the Queen of England or some shit. It’s a damn club! Who cares?” She shrugged.
    “It’s a club, but you could at least look the part. You are going out to Club Trexx, not ‘Club Perplexed’!”
    Silver rolled her damn eyes.
    “I don’t have to dress up like you. You’re sitting there in all that damn leather and a fedora