GetOn by Regina Cole Page B

unemployment office and beg for food stamps than spend another day in
that toxic environment. Yesterday was her fault, in a roundabout way, but it
was a mistake she couldn’t bring herself to regret.
    Several aisles down, the back wall of the room was blank. A
few high tables stood there, empty now. They’d be crowded with convention goers
in just a few hours. Leaning her stuff against one of them, Mia propped her
elbows on the blue-covered surface.
    “Shit,” she said aloud as reality washed over her. A
crackling above her head signaled the loudspeaker’s activation.
    “Welcome to the final day of BodModCon! Get your needles
ready, because here comes your audience.”
    A loud cheer greeted his words, and Mia looked despondently
down at her case.
    Maybe she should rethink her life. There were a lot of prima
donnas and dicks in this business, but there were good people too. She’d just
had a bad run of luck in her coworkers.
    She snorted as the aisles started to clog just beyond her
little sanctuary. Coworkers, hell. Boyfriends. Friends. She’d been alone since Abuela died.
    Until you met Garrett , her subconscious whispered.
    The thought made her pause. She bit her lip, glancing at her
black purse. That morning, before dressing, she’d pulled the little slip of
paper that Trent had given her from her pocket, flattening out the wrinkles and
reading it for the first time.
    There was a phone number on it. Trent’s or Garrett’s, she
wasn’t sure. But she did know it was the link she needed to find him again.
She’d tucked the paper into the front pouch of her bag, uncertain at the time
if she’d ever use it.
    Garrett.
    He’d promised to look out for her during the convention. Was
he somewhere nearby now? How would he know that she wasn’t working at the
booth?
    He didn’t want to see her again. The stuff he was involved
in was dangerous.
    It would be stupid to try to track him down.
    She grinned, picked up her shit and booked it for the door.
Bad ideas were the most fun, and finding Garrett was, most definitely, a bad
idea.
    * * * * *
    “I really appreciate you doing this.” Garrett tucked the
phone against his shoulder as he pulled his leather jacket from the large
walk-in closet in his bedroom. “Someone needs to keep an eye on her and it
shouldn’t be me. For a lot of reasons.”
    Laying the jacket over his arm, he resumed his grip on the
phone. He left his bedroom, making sure to walk softly on the polished wooden
floors. Motorcycle boots had a distinctive thunk . “Yeah. Just let me
know if you see anything suspicious. And uh…” Garrett lifted the keys from the
marble countertop carefully, making sure not to let them jingle. “I’ll be out
doing some yard work, so if you don’t get me, leave it on my voicemail, okay?
Sure. Thanks, Trent.”
    He killed the call without much remorse. Trent had been on
his ass all night once Reg and Quentin had left, wanting to know what was up
with him and Mia. And Garrett’s firm “it’s over” didn’t seem to wash. No matter
how much Garrett insisted there was nothing between them, and the split hadn’t
affected him in any way, Trent never believed him. He’d argued, but had
eventually agreed to keep watch over Mia at the convention for Garrett.
    So a little white lie had been necessary. If Trent had known
what Garrett was about to do, he’d have done his best to talk him out of it,
probably even bringing the other two guys in to block his path.
    Garrett pulled on his leather jacket, glimpsing out the wide
window in front of his kitchen sink. A beautiful, sunny day, but the thickening
clouds on the horizon promised the weather would change later. A soft tinkling
met his ears, the little silver wind chime Priscilla had hung on his front
porch so many years ago, still reminding him of what he had to fight for, what
he had to correct. She hadn’t deserved her fate.
    Garrett snorted as he let himself out of the house and into
his large garage, punching the