Hurts So Good Read Online Free PDF

polishing floors to earn the money. I couldn't get off the school bus fast enough every day for a month to ask Sister if I'd gotten any mail."
    "You must've been scraping, looking for junk mail."
    "It wasn't junk mail to me," she said defensively. "When my packet finally came, with a forty-five record, a newsletter, and a personally autographed glossy, I was floating on air for days. Until one of my roommates scratched the record because she said she was sick of hearing it. I couldn't help but rub it in that her favorite movie had a Neil Grey sound track."
    "Sorry about what I said." He cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have called your mail 'junk.' Even if that was and still is my opinion."
    She accepted his gruff apology and decided to risk something of herself in hopes that he would do the same.
    "I grew up in an orphanage, Neil. In Connecticut."
    "Was it bad?"
    "Not really. The sisters were good to us. They made do a lot too. I'm sure I missed a lot not growing up in a regular family, but I'm not sorry I learned to fend for myself. What I have, I earned. No one gave it to me. I take pride in that."
    "You should. I respect survivors. Seems we've got some common ground in a quality I greatly prize."
    She wondered if he would still respect her if he knew she'd moved to New Orleans for the express purpose of gaining access to him. Her grand plan to do an expose on a legend in his own time, who remained a mystery to jazz scholars and enthusiasts, was unfolding better than she'd dared dream.
    Only it was unfolding in unexpected curves and sharp angles and pulling her in with him when objectivity was essential in a fiercely competitive, self-taught profession. She wanted to be the best, the absolute best. Prove to herself and everyone else she wasn't a funny-toothed girl in secondhand clothes, a girl even her parents hadn't wanted.
    Her resolve firm, Andrea repositioned the picture, then took his hand and led him to the faded maroon pullout sofa. She liked the way his fingers felt laced with hers. It sparked excitement, but she also felt comfort.
    "I take it that you're a survivor too, Neil?"
    "Guess you could say that. I'm frayed around the edges, something of a rough cut. But I'm doing what I always loved to do best. Creating. Performing on a honky-tonk stage."
    "Shades of Grey isn't exactly a honky-tonk. It's a very classy place. Mahogany and brass and crystal. At least in the club itself. Your office is—"
    "It isn't too fancy, but it's mine, the way I like it. Well lived in and a little scruffy. Like me."
    Andrea held her breath, praying she'd sound casual while she spoke her next words.
    "Tell me more about Neil Grey. Does he ever think about trading his office in for another shot at a career he quit while he was at the peak and his legion of listeners begged for more?" She felt his thigh stiffen against hers. And then she felt her own stiffen as his jaw worked back and forth.
    "No," he said abruptly. "Gotta ashtray round here? I like using my floor, but nobody else's. One's crude, the other's rude. I like to think I know the difference between bad habits and bad manners. It's a fine line, like most else in the world, but Lou and Liza did their best to pick up where Mama left off. That in mind, could you get me one?"
    "You mean your mother left, and Lou and Liza—?"
    "Not that it's anybody's business, but Lou's my adoptive father. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies. I've had enough of this nonsense. Either get me an ashtray or lose your security deposit. Another flick and this rug's toast."
    "One ashtray on the way." Heart palpitating, Andrea commanded herself to be calm as she went to the cupboard and found the dainty crystal ashtray she'd bought for a song.
    A roach ran over her hand as she reached for it.
    "Ohmigod!" Jerking her hand back, she threw open the cabinet under the sink and rummaged around for the insecticide. As she grabbed it, she saw another roach skitter out and almost land on her