Read Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) for Free Online

going on?” he said and looked around the store. “What happened to the Koontz display?”
    “I saw the graffiti when I came in this morning, Mr. Reece. I didn’t know what to do so I just covered it up. I was going to call you.”
    “Really? When were you going to call me, Miss Munroe?” he said as he walked around the counter.
    I grabbed the book and looked at Stephanie. She shook her head.
    “I was going to call you--”
    “After you got done with your Facebooking?” Mr. Reece said and stared at the computer screen.
    “Shit,” Stephanie said under her breath.
    He walked toward me and kicked something. He knelt down and picked up a beer can and held it in front of his face.
    “I do not believe this,” he said and stared at me. “What is wrong with you, Miss Munroe?”
    “Mr. Reece,” Stephanie said, “Beth wasn’t alone.”
    “I was, Mr. Reece,” I said. “That’s all mine. Everything. The display, the Facebook and beer...even the graffiti. All my fault. Stephanie had nothing to do with it.”
    Mr. Reece slammed the beer can on the counter and closed his eyes.
    “You vandalized my property?”
    “Um, no? I mean, I made a mess, but I did not--”
    “What the hell do you think graffiti is, Miss Munroe?
    “Oh, no, I didn’t spray-paint that. I mean, no.”
    “Miss Munroe, you’re fired. I’m sorry. I really thought you were one of the good ones, but I obviously can’t trust you. Please gather your things and leave.”
    “I-I’m sorry Mr. Reece. I really am.”
    Stephanie and I left the store and I clutched The Stranger to my chest as I thought of Nicolas.
    “What do you think he does?” I said as Stephanie and I walked to her car.
    “Who?”
    “Nicolas Miles. I bet it’s something artsy. Living in Brooklyn...I bet he does something artistic.”
    “You don’t even know him, Beth. You don’t even know if he still lives in Brooklyn. Don’t go creating fantasies like you do with every guy. You’ll always get disappointed. Remember...low expectations.”
    “Now you sound like my mother. What, you lower the bar until it hits the ground and then there’s nowhere to go but up?”
    “Yep,” Stephanie said and sighed. “You don’t expect anything good to happen, but when it does, then it’s really sweet.”
    “That just sounds depressing,” I said as I got into Stephanie’s car. “Thanks for the ride.”
    “Well, I’m sorry you got fired. Thanks for covering for me. I feel sort of guilty.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I wanted to quit that job anyway,” I said as I ran my fingers across the cover of the book Nicolas gave me.

 
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    When we got back to Ivory-Lou’s about five of his girls were in the living room trying on wigs. Rebel Love went from girl to girl fitting the wigs and Ivory-Lou walked around and either nodded or cussed.
    “Beth,” Rebel Love said when she saw me and Stephanie in the kitchen, “what do you think of Sadie’s wig?”
    Sadie, a plump, dark-skinned girl turned around and showed off her platinum wig. The contrast between her face and the wig made it look like a lightning bolt got her in the head.
    “Wow, it’s...intense,” I said and grabbed a Coke out of the refrigerator. “Bright, I guess.”
    “It looks fucking stupid,” Ivory-Lou said. “We’re going to a Baptist convention at the Howard Johnson’s in Cleveland not a Siegfried and Roy show in Vegas, Rebel Love! I told you natural and simple.”
    “I think she looks like Marilyn, baby,” Rebel Love said and fluffed Sadie’s wig.
    “Marilyn Manson, maybe,” Ivory-Lou said. “The wig goes! Yolanda! Come up here, let me see yours.”
    Yolanda walked back and forth in front of the fireplace and modeled her wig.
    “What do you think, Beth?” Ivory-Lou said.
    “Why are you asking her?” Yolanda said and put her hands on her hips. “I’m the one who has to wear the goddamned thing and I think it looks amazing! Don’t need to be asking no silly white girl what a