REBEL, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) Read Online Free

slightly louder voice. Maybe she’s hard of hearing from spending so much time in here. I’m going to have to buy some ear plugs if I’m going to work in this joint. I try not to sound irritated, but I’m still picturing myself as a mime and it’s not pretty.   Why is it that insults given by society’s rejects sting so much more than regular ones?
    “ No comprendo ,” she finally says, turning her back to me.
    “Well, fuck,” I say, mostly to myself.   “That’s mighty inconvenient.”
    “Do you have laundry to do or you just in here harassing people?” asks a rough voice from the back of the room.   A tall, skinny guy is standing in the open door of what might be a back office.
    Score.   Manager, twelve o’clock.
    I walk over with purpose, my hand held out for a handshake like I’ve seen business people do all my life.   “Hello, are you the manager?   I’m Teagan Cross, and I’m here for the job you have advertised.”   I stop in front of him, my offer of friendship dangling in the air between us.
    He looks at me, his face screwed up.   “Advertisement.   I didn’t leave no advertisement anywhere.”
    This might be a trick.   I try not to let my annoyance show.   Maybe he’s testing me to see how I handle mentally handicapped customers.   Jerking my thumb towards the front window, I smile.   “Sign on the door there?   Help wanted it says …”
    “That ain’t no advertisement.   It’s just a sign.”
    I clear my throat to get control of my mouth.   This whole area of town has apparently been invaded by aliens who’ve watched way too many episodes of Dukes of Hazzard .
    “My mistake.   I saw your sign out there and so here I am.   I’m ready for the job if you’re still hiring.”
    “You want to work in a laundromat.”   He says it like a statement.
    “That’s why I’m here, yeah.”   I resist the urge to cross my arms in front of me.   I’m just a little worried about what I might do if he calls me a mime.
    “You speak Spanish?” he asks.
    “No.”
    “Russian?”
    I half-laugh.   “No.   I speak English.   This is the United States, right?”
    “Maybe.   But you gotta speak other languages if you want to work here.”
    “Maybe this is the United States?   No, I’m pretty sure this is the United States.”   A multi-lingual laundromat employee?   I think not.   This guy’s just blowing me off.   I look around me to get my bearings.   “I didn’t get on a plane and fly to another country without realizing it, did I?”
    “I guess you never heard of the great melting pot,” he says, a small smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.   “Guess they skipped that in your civics class.”
    “They didn’t skip it.   I’ll have you know that I’m one semester away from graduating from UCLA, and I know plenty about the melting pot.”   Actually I don’t know that much about it, but he’ll never know.   I hate geography and I was never good at foreign languages.   I took French, but only because it was required, and I suck at it. I can only speak one sentence: je vais à la plage , which means I’m going to the beach .   Yeah, buddy.
    “Okay then, college girl, you know then that this particular neighborhood is populated mostly by immigrants.   And they come from places where they don’t speak English, so if you want to work here, you have to be able to do the basic things … you know … like communicate .”
    I snort.   “Right.   Like you speak Spanish.”
    He looks over at the lady standing near the dryer.   “¿Cómo va todo por allí? ¿Necesitas ayuda plegado que la ropa? Tengo una niña con estudios universitarios dispuestos a ayudar por aquí.”
    She cackles in response as my face flames red.
    I jump back in, determined not to be the dumbest person in the room.   “Yeah right. It’s not like you speak Russian or anything, though.”
      He doesn’t even bat an eye before opening his mouth. “Vui predpolagaetse