Say it Louder Read Online Free Page A

she’s about to do just that.
    This morning’s not getting any better.
    “Why are you here?” Willa demands, and I stand there on the sidewalk, dumb as a rock, as she fills the crack in the door she’s only half-opened.
    “I’m not here. On purpose, I mean. I was trying to find Violet, or somebody…” I trail off, my words refusing to thread together into something that makes sense.
    “You found me. So what do you want today, Dave? You look like shit.”
    “Thanks for that. Keep it coming.”
    “What? You want me to say you look ready to conquer the world? Because you look like it conquered you.”
    “Nah. Just got kicked around by a bottle of gin last night.”
    She snorts. “Rich-boy problems. Drink until it goes away.”
    “Why are you being such a bitch?”
    “Why are you being so stupid?”
    “Why are you harassing me?”
    “Why did you show up at my shop?”
    I look up and see script lettering: Righteous Ink is painted above the door. It dawns on me that Willa works here. At a tattoo shop. Add that to the discussion about her street art feature that Violet and Stella did, and I’m starting to get a picture of her.
    “I don’t know,” I confess. “I was just looking for … breakfast.”
    Willa crosses her arms. “Best I got is coffee in back.”
    I point to the diner. “That any good?”
    “Depends on if you order eggs and hash browns or chicken-fried steak.” She raises her brow, which glints in the morning light with delicate silver balls piercing it. “Word to the wise: don’t do the steak.”
    I duck my head. “Gotcha. Thanks.” I tell my legs to go and finally they start moving down the sidewalk. On instinct, I turn, and Willa’s still hanging in the door, watching me.
    “Sorry,” I say. “I’m not always like this. Just a bad time.”
    She shrugs. “It’s a new day. Don’t waste it.”

    ***

    I’ve had two and a half cups of coffee, eggs and hash, and the pounding has mostly abated. My stomach is full but my chest is still empty.
    I fiddle with the paper placemat on the Formica tabletop, tearing off little bits and rolling them into thin cylinders. I’ve amassed a pile when someone slides into the cracked vinyl booth across from me.  
    “Quite an art project you’ve got going there.”
    I frown at Willa, but she ignores me and waves at the waitress for coffee.
    “You done with your pity party yet?”
    “No.” My voice is sullen, and I know I’m acting about six years old. But, God, don’t I deserve a few minutes to wallow in my misery?
    Never mind. What happened last night was wallowing enough.
    “Fine, then, don’t let me interrupt.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “First client bailed. Ran out of coffee filters at the shop.” The waitress sets down a mug and pours coffee. Willa drinks hers black, same as me. “So what are you doing here? Besides breakfast and the poor-me routine?”
    “Would you come off it, Willa? I’ve got serious problems. Stop acting like somebody just forgot my birthday.”
    Instead of checking her attitude, she lays it on thicker. “Oh, big-boy problems? Tell mama all about them. Did somebody take your toys?”
    “Fuck you. I don’t need this shit.” I move to stand and then realize I don’t have the check yet. That keeps my butt on the seat for another minute as I try to get the waitress’s attention, but fail.
    “Her name’s Charlene. Don’t leave her a crappy tip or she’ll take it out on me next time.”
    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter. I tear off another piece of placemat and roll it between my thumb and forefinger, perfecting the roundness of the little white cylinder before I place it on the stack I’ve made, like a Lincoln Log cabin.
    “So what do you need, Dave?”
    “A new life?”
    “Done and done. I’ll trade you.” Willa grins, revealing slightly crooked eyeteeth and a dimple. “I can’t wait to swap bank accounts.”
    “You know what I mean. I need a do-over.”
    “Doesn’t look like you