Give Me Reason (The Reason Series) Read Online Free

card paperclipped to it. But when I pick it up, I realize there’s more here than a hundred dollar bill. I pull the paperclip off to find four additional bills folded together — five hundred dollars in all — and a piece of paper. I slide into the booth, my hand covering my mouth and tears streaming down my face.  
    I suppose I should feel joy or relief about being given this much money, but all I can feel is indignation at the fact that he feels I'm some charity case. I unfold the small piece of paper that was tucked in with the bills. It’s a note.  

    Vivienne,  
    I'm sure you're angry at this money, but please, don't be. Consider it a tip for a job well done and please, call me. I've attached my card.
    -Mikah

    I look at his business card. Its elegant silver lettering practically jumps off of the sleek black card.  

    Mikah Blake – CEO, MSB Enterprises  

    There is a phone number — maybe an office number — a website, an address downtown and an email address. I flip the card over. On the back, in the same handwriting as the note, are two phone numbers. A cell phone? Home phone?  
    I shrug and wipe the dampness from my cheeks. I'm not going to call him. I'm going to pay for the meal, take twenty percent for tip and find a way to give him back the rest. Despite the fact that this is enough to cover all of my rent this month, I cannot and will not accept a four hundred and seventy dollar tip from a man that sees fit to feed and take care of me.

    The rest of the night passes by slowly, which is normal for a Thursday. We close at midnight and are out the door by five after because we spent the last hour of the shift cleaning everything up. I head out the front door with Laura, and she locks up.  
    "See you tomorrow," Laura says as I head toward the bus stop at the corner. "You want a ride?" Laura's typical nightly question.  
    "No, I got it. Thanks," I say and keep walking. It’s early enough I can still catch the twelve ten west toward my apartment.  
    As I wait for the bus, my eyes droop, exhaustion registering. Luckily I only have to wait a few minutes. Al, the driver, opens the door and I climb up.  
    "Good evening, Ms. Vivienne."  
    "Hi, Al," I say sleepily as I put my money in the machine.  
    "How was business?"
    I shrug. "Slow, as usual." I turn toward the back of the bus and let out a sigh of relief. It's empty. "Seems pretty slow for you, too, tonight."  
    "It sure is."  
    I grab a seat right behind him. Al is getting on in years, but he obviously loves his job. I asked him once why he drives the late night routes, and he said it was so he could see me. But I think it has more to do with protecting us girls that ride at this time of the night. Usually there are several of us on the bus: some traveling home from work, others looking for their next fix. Going anywhere at this hour can be scary. Fortunately for me, my bus stop is just around the corner from my shitty studio apartment in South Minneapolis.  
    I fight to keep my eyelids open as the bus rumbles along. Almost home. Almost to my mattress.  

    "Vivienne, honey, you’re home," I hear Al say, and my eyes fly open.  
    "Thanks, Al." I gather up my things and step off the bus.  
    "Have a good night, Vivienne."  
    "You too, Al," I say as he closes the door. I watch as he pulls away, and I quickly make my way around the corner without drawing attention to myself. The street is dirty and it smells like trash and rotting food. Graffiti covers the walls around me.
    I see my shadow lengthen as a car comes up from behind me, and I pick up the pace a little. Cars on the street this time of night, in this neighborhood, usually mean someone is up to no good. The car passes me as I reach my door. I glance up and see that it is a sleek black Mercedes. I scowl at it. What’s a fancy car like that doing in this neighborhood? I push past the blue door and into the entryway and unlock the inner door.  
    The hallways are an uneven brownish yellow,