The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (little red riding hood read aloud .TXT) 📕

private, and looking down at the world from penthouses in cities around the world. I grew up with a mother who made me feel like I could do anything I set my mind to and a father who made me feel like I couldn’t.

“I see you hustling. I know you’re on your grind. But girl, really, you’re not cut out for this life and I’m not trying to be a dick when I say I’m glad to see you go. You call Daddy and apologize for whatever the fuck went down?”

“Nah, I finally reached out to my friends for support.”

“Good call. There’s an expiration date on living like this.” He swings his arm wide to encompass the dilapidated apartment buildings, the cracked asphalt with weeds that look like mini forests sprouting up, and the trash that litters the space. “You stay too long, it gets under your skin. If it gets too deep, you can’t get rid of it. It’s a stench that follows you everywhere. It’s not just a period in your twenties but your whole fucking life.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

I bend mine back. “How do you know that?”

He snorts and pulls a cigarette pack from his back pocket. He taps the end of the pack against his palm a few times before pulling one out and slipping it between his lips. He offers me one. I shake my head and his grin grows. “I didn’t grow up like this either, girl. But I didn’t heed the warnings when I got ‘em either. I didn’t reach out for the support like I should’ve. Like you are. But I always knew you were smarter than me.”

“It’s not too late for you, Merck.”

He chuckles, his eyes scanning the parking lot before piercing mine. “Yeah, it is.”

A car pulls into the lot and Merck raises a hand over his eyebrows, squinting against the sunlight. “That’s Rick. Whatever you get for your car, we’ll call your rent paid in full.”

I jerk back by the offer. We both know Sally isn’t going to fetch three months of overdue rent. Rielle from last week would have insisted on paying back every single cent. Rielle today is taking degrees of help when it’s offered and doing her best to be okay with it. “Thank you, Merck.”

“Better not see you back here, girl.”

I glance at my old apartment door. “You won’t,” I promise.

An hour later, I wave goodbye to Sally. As her burned-out taillights bump out of the parking lot, I breathe out a shaky exhale. I got two grand for her. Right now, I need to be grateful for that and not upset that I no longer have a ride anywhere.

I steel my shoulders, smack the envelope with cash against my palm, and head to Merck’s office.

“That was fast.” He grins when he sees me.

I pass him the envelope. “It’s two thousand.”

He peers inside the envelope and nods. “Take care of yourself, Ri.”

“That’s it?” I shuffle from one foot to the next, waiting for the fine print I missed last time.

But Merck proves to be a much more considerate person than Jerry Jensen. “That’s it. Have a nice life.”

I snort. “You too. And Merck?”

He slips an unlit cigarette between his lips and leans back in his chair, waiting.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely.

He snorts and waves me away but I see the color that heightens in his cheeks.

I laugh and make my way back to my apartment.

When I enter, Claire is rolling my old suitcase to the door. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“Sally is gone.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I’m sorry, Ri. I know you loved her.”

“She was my ride or die,” I admit.

Claire flips me the middle finger before gesturing to the boxes she packed up. “I’m your ride or die, bitch.”

I laugh and toss an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, you are. Thanks for doing this.”

“You’re welcome. So, you’re all settled with rent?”

I nod.

“Good. I sorted through your clothes.” Claire points out several bags. “One is for donate, one is for sell, one you need to go through. But some of these designer pieces could fetch some good money.” She shakes her head at me. “If you’re set on not touching Torsten’s credit card, or accepting any of my help—”

I wrinkle my nose in objection.

Claire rolls her eyes. “Then you’re going to need some cash to hold you over until you find a new job.”

I nod, knowing she’s right. “That’s genius, Claire. I don’t know why I didn’t sell my clothes earlier.” Thanks to my affluent upbringing and the suitcases packed with clothes I snuck out of my dad’s home the night I ran away to college, I always looked better than I lived. Even though I scraped and scrimped for the past year, I also learned how to wear the same basic staples and accessorize smartly to give the appearance of having more than I do.

Now, my clothes are coming in handy in a different way.

“Stop.” Claire holds up her hand. “I can’t handle thinking of how you lived over the past year and never told me. Or worse, how I didn’t realize it.” She turns her big blue eyes on mine. “I’m sorry, Ri. I was so caught up in my own drama, in not having a job, in getting swept up with East…I’ve been a shitty friend.”

I hold my arms wide to encompass all the boxes and bags she sorted through and packed up. “Stop. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”

She gives me a big hug and squeezes too tightly.

“I’m really fucking hungry,” she says as her stomach grumbles. “So I need you to accept my invitation to lunch because I don’t want to eat alone and I don’t want to waste time having one of those dumb back-and-forth conversations where we argue over who is going to pay the bill.”

I laugh. “Deal. I happily accept your invite. I’m hungry too.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “I don’t know how you worked up an appetite. All you had