Use Somebody Read Online Free PDF

was making some ironic joke about my personality… I was going to kick… his… ass.
    Two women around my mama’s age approached the counter, so I turned and contrived an over-friendly smile. These dimples and pearly whites were the epitome of sweet and all that was left of the old, innocent Scarlett. All my life I had been kind. Genial. Meek. Nowadays it took a little more effort to portray that, but real or fake, my smile had the desired effect.
    I’ll show him Rosie.
    “Welcome to Mooshi Treatery, ladies,” I greeted them. “Have you been here before?”
    “Yes. Well, no. Sort of,” one of the women stuttered in response. “Oh my word, I’ve lived in San Dimas since 1969. This old space has been quite a few different stores in my day. I remember when it used to be a deli, and before that, it was an exotic bird store. In fact, this is where I got my parrot, Millie. Her cage was there, right where you’re standing, first time I saw her. And before that, it was all orange groves! But I haven’t been here since it’s reopened.”
    I smiled out of courtesy through the whole exchange, even though inside I was cringing. Way too much information, lady. I was just asking to be polite; I didn’t need your whole life story.
    The woman’s friend laughed and playfully patted her shoulder. “So, that’s a no,” she translated, “It’s our first time.”
    I went through the whole spiel flawlessly, telling them about our premium made ice cream, what set us apart from our competitors, and the history of the stores. They originated in the east coast and now they kept popping up everywhere like last year’s glitter. Ours was the first to open here in Los Angeles County.
    They asked for my recommendations and picked out a couple flavors to sample. I obliged cheerfully. While they were narrowing down their choices, I shot a smug look behind me, hoping Vance saw that I could definitely be friendly, but he would be my exception. I hoped he took it personally.
    He just gave me an enthusiastic grin and a thumbs-up.
    I frowned. Whatever.
    The ladies finally made their selections. I used my scoop and spade to dig into the bucket of cake batter ice cream then piled it onto the ice block, adding Butterfinger and brownie bits and kneading it in. After I helped to serve their orders, I got them squared away at the register.
    The bell above the door announced their exit. I crossed my arms and turned to face Vance. He chuckled and clapped his hands slowly. “Well done, Rosie. Like a pro!” he praised.
    I didn’t like him patronizing me. I nipped that in the bud immediately. “What did you call me?” I demanded.
    “Oh,” he stopped clapping. “I know your name is Scarlett, but—”
    “No,” I shook my head adamantly. I did used to go by Scarlett, but not anymore. That would remain in the past, along with everything else. “It’s Scar. Not Scarlett. Not Rosie. Scar .”
    “Are you sure? Because you look more like a Scarlett Rose to me.”
    Ah. I see what he did there. Real cute. But I wasn’t buying it. My eyes narrowed. “My surname is Rossi. RAW-SEE. It’s Italian. And nobody calls me that either.” I pinched my nametag and pulled it towards him as far as my apron would stretch. “ Scar ,” I emphasized.
    Ignoring my protruding nametag, he evaluated my face instead. Direct eye contact made me uncomfortable, but looking away was a sign of weakness and I refused to do it again. At least he seemed to be considering what I had to say.
    Finally, he dropped his eyes to size me up from my Converse shoes, to my dark skinny jeans, to my oversized shirt under a cow-spotted apron, and all the way up to my swept back ebony hair. When he met my eyes again, a mischievous grin spread across his face.
    “Yeah. I think I’m gonna call you Rosie.”
     
    * * *
     
    “Ugh,” I groaned, looking at the schedule. Next week was going to be a pain in my ass.
    “What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, not glancing up from her wedding magazine.