SKID ROW ROMANCE Book 5
June 24, 2018
Layla’s husband, Hugo, finds out she’s been hanging out on Skid Row.
“What the hell do you think you’re up to, Layla?”
His roaring voice hurt her ears.
“I’ve been doing poems.” Her voice wobbled. “For…for people that want them, that need them. They pay me two dollars and I give them a poem.”
It felt good, being honest with him. She’d hated lying to Hugo.
And for once, he actually heard what she’d said. He looked completely astounded. He opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed. “Poems? Selling poems?”
She blushed because he made it sound pornographic. “I went downtown because I didn’t think anyone would recognize me there.”
“How—how long have you been doing this?” Hugo’s voice was thin.
“Since—since the first of May.” Eight—no nine weeks, she counted in her head. It seemed a long time, and yet no time at all.
“Not every day. Just a few times a week.”
Well, more often than that, lately, since she and Mike became friends.
And today Mike might be dead.
Should she choose her husband, or the man who’d become her friend?
She couldn’t, daren’t, use the word—love.