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  Clean Start

  Violent Circle: Book Three

  By

  S.M. Shade

  Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Ally Hastings at Starcrossed Covers.

  This book is dedicated to Veronica. Since I used your name, I guess Neal belongs to you. Sorry, Colette. #NealbelongstoV

  Where to find S.M. Shade:

  I have a private book group where no one outside of the group can see what you post or comment on. It’s adults only and is a friendly place to discuss your favorite books and authors. Drama free. I also host an occasional giveaway, and group members get an early peek at covers, teasers, and exclusive excerpts.

  You can join here. Shady Ladies Book Group

  You can also follow or friend me on Facebook. Shannon Shade

  Or like my page. S.M. Shade

  Chapter One

  Veronica

  Have you ever had the crap scared out of you by a sigh? It doesn’t seem possible, does it? That a little, quiet breath could cause someone to jump like they’ve been touched by a live wire and almost pee themselves. If you have trouble believing such a thing, you’ve never been a parent.

  The sweet little love of my life, who I occasionally want to duct tape to a chair, stands beside my bed, giggling at my reaction. Why do kids do that? Just stand by your bed, all creepy and quiet, staring at you until you open your eyes?

  “Aiden, you aren’t supposed to wake me up until the clock says seven, remember? You’re supposed to stay in bed.”

  “I didn’t wake you up. I was quiet and waited for you to wake up on your own.” He climbs over me like I’m a jungle gym, and I bite back a curse when his elbow jabs me in the nipple.

  Stellar start to the day.

  He stretches his little body out beside me, tucks his arms behind his head, and closes his eyes. I say a quick prayer to any god of single mothers that may be listening for him to fall back to sleep. I just need a few more minutes. Or an hour. An hour would be bliss.

  I pull my covers over him, and I’m just starting to drift off again when I feel his warm palm against my cheek. “Mom,” he whispers. “The clock says seven, and I might die if I don’t eat pancakes.”

  A snort of laughter jumps out of me, and I drag myself to a sitting position. “I don’t think anyone ever died from a lack of pancakes, Ade.”

  He pulls his knees up and rests his chin on them, giving me a serious look. “Do you really want to risk it?”

  This kid. I swear, he’s too damned smart for his own good. It’s easy to forget he’s just getting ready to turn five because he acts like such a little man sometimes. You know, right before he does something like trying to shave the local stray cat because it looked hot with all that fur. Poor thing has a bare stripe right down its back.

  “Nope, let’s get you some pancakes. Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

  He bounds out of bed and streaks down the hallway, his voice carrying behind him. “Chocolate chiiip!” I’d better get moving before he decides to start without me.

  Aiden watches me from his stool at the counter while I cook his pancakes, jabbering away the entire time. “Are Neal and Bailey going to come to my birthday party?”

  I slide the pancakes onto a plate, and set it in front of him, along with a glass of milk. “Yes, they’ll be there.” Along with half the neighborhood from what I’m hearing. We’ve only lived here on Violet Circle for about two months, but everyone treats us as if they’ve known us forever. The sign may have been vandalized to say Violent Circle, but my experience so far has been positive.

  It’s a strange neighborhood, full of eccentric people. There’s no denying that, but they stick together like family, and Aiden and I could really use the support right now.

  “I like Bailey. She’s nice.”

  “I’m glad. She likes you too.”

  “Everybody likes me except Eddie, and I don’t care because he sucks.”

  “Aiden!” I exclaim, turning away to hide my smile. “That’s not nice.”

  He shrugs, taking a bite of his food. “He’s not nice. He says he’s my boss cause he lives at the hotel and I only visit. I don’t like him.”

  The kid really is a little monster, but he’s only eight, and it’s understandable that he’d have some problems. A cheap hotel isn’t a place to raise a kid. Not that I’m judging his family. I know how hard things can be.

  I take a seat across from him. “He’s not your boss.”

  “I know.”

  “Would you like to live at the hotel?”

  He blanches. “No way! I love my room. He has to sleep in the bed next to his parent’s bed. And he can’t have a lot of toys because there’s nowhere to put them.”

  “He’s having a hard time then, isn’t he? You know how you get grouchy when you’re upset? He probably feels that way a lot. It’s not right that he’s mean to you, but I want you to be nice to him anyway. Sometimes being nice to someone can make them feel better. You might be the only person who does that for him.”

  Aiden chews his lip, a habit we share when we’re thinking or nervous. “But what if he’s mean to me again?”

  “Then come find me and we’ll do something about it.”

  “Okay, I’ll be nice.” He swallows his last bite and drains his glass of milk.

  “Go get dressed and pick out some toys and books for today. It’s only a half day, and we’ll get lunch on the way home, okay?” I ruffle his hair. He needs a haircut.

  His eyes brighten. “Can we go to Carl’s and get a shake?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He races off to dress and pack his little backpack.

  I hate that I have to drag him to work with me every day, but I don’t have a choice. It won’t be for much longer. Next fall, he’ll start Kindergarten, and I’ll be able to work days without worrying about him. Fortunately, the couple who own the hotel are fine with me bringing him along. There’s always a few empty rooms where he can watch T.V., play his handheld game, read, or play with his toys. He’s never too far away from me for me to hear him. Sometimes he trails along behind me from room to room as well. After two months, all the regular guests know him, and he knows his boundaries. I’m grateful for the small adjacent playground, so he doesn’t have to be cooped up for hours, but on days like this, he’s stuck inside.

  I do a quick clean up from breakfast, grab a breakfast drink for myself, and guzzle it while I toss on my jeans and a tee shirt. It only takes me a few minutes to throw my hair up into a messy bun, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I don’t bother to shower until after work. The rooms can be gross, so by the time I get home, I can’t wait to wash away the grime.

  The street is quiet when we leave since most people are just waking up. Ice cold rain falls through the mist hanging in the air, and I shiver as I buckle my seat belt. “You should’ve worn your big coat like I did,” Aiden pipes up from the backseat.

  “Yes, I should have.” What can I say? Sometimes the kid is smarter than me.

  The hotel isn’t far away, and we pull into the lot less than ten minutes later. Most of the parking spots are empty, and I’m not surprised. This hotel caters
mostly to boaters and fisherman when the weather is nice. Icy rain doesn’t make people want to hit the lake.

  Ruby, one of the clerks and daughter of the owners, smiles at us when we come in. “Aiden! I have something for you.”

  I swear, Aiden makes friends wherever he goes, and he has my employers and their family eating out of his hand. “Hi Ruby!” He bounds over to her, his eyes widening as she produces a DVD of his favorite cartoon.

  “Botkids! Mom, look!”

  “Someone left it in a room last week. No one called to claim it, so it’s all yours.” She looks up at me. “He can hang out here if you want and watch it in the lobby.”

  “Thank you. Just text if he pesters you.” I wiggle my cell at her before looking down at my grinning son. “What do you say, Ade?”

  “Thank you! And you look pretty! Hubba Bubba!” he exclaims, then darts off to pop the DVD into the player in the small lobby. He flops onto the couch, kicks off his shoes, flings his backpack to the floor, and props his feet on it.

  Ruby glances at me, and we both break into laughter. “Where did he get hubba bubba from?”

  “Pretty sure he meant hubba hubba, and I have a suspicion.” It involves the group of young college guys who live down the street in an apartment the neighbors have dubbed Frat Hell. He told me Noble taught him how to talk to pretty girls.

  She hands me a list of rented rooms. “It’s pretty light today because of the rain. The only ones who haven’t checked out yet are 110 and 112. Most of the regulars have their Do Not Disturb signs out, as usual.”

  The regulars—meaning guests who stay a few times a month and the two families and two residents who live here full time—generally keep the Do Not Disturb signs out on weekends when they don’t want to be awakened early. They don’t need us to clean every day, so I tend to do their rooms once or twice per week.

  As much as I’d like the extra hours, I’m happy to leave early today. Since I asked off for Aiden’s birthday, I have a rare three days off in a row coming up and I’m eager to get to it.

  I hook the ring with the master key on my belt loop and fill my travel cup with coffee before heading to the housekeeping office. Office isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. It’s a long room with two carts sitting inside.

  Shelves line the walls, stacked high with towels and bedding. Bins nearly overflow with tiny soaps, shampoos, plastic cups, ice containers, and all that other stuff you find in a two star hotel room. A musty smell permeates the place, originating from the large sink in the corner. It doesn’t seem to matter how much bleach I dump down that drain, it always smells like unwashed ass.

  I load up a cart with everything I need and push it out into the breezeway. On days like this, I really wish I’d chosen a hotel with interior hallways and entrances. The bitter cold cuts through me, and it doesn’t help that the wind keeps gusting, allowing the rain to reach me in waves as I park the cart as close to the brick wall as I can. There’s enough of an awning to keep the stuff dry.

  Shivering, I open the two empty rooms and the door connecting them. Nothing looks too bad, just the regular mess I’m accustomed to finding; a half empty pizza box on the table, a trash can overflowing with soda cans and wrappers, wet towels on the bathroom floor. I can knock these out in no time.

  The sheets get stripped from both beds and added to the pile of wet towels headed for the laundry room. The owner’s other daughter, Mia, comes in during the afternoon to wash the linens so that isn’t part of my job. I remove all the trash, spray down the bathrooms, remake the beds with fresh sheets, and vacuum the floors. By the time I’m done with that, all I have to do is wipe down the bathrooms and restock everything. A quick peek in the microwaves show me they don’t need cleaned, and same goes for the mini fridges. A spritz of air freshener and I’m out the door. I love rooms like this. So easy.

  The next few rooms are pretty much the same. One bathroom is pretty gross, with piss everywhere except the toilet, but I expected it since the lady staying here had two boys about Aiden’s age. They aren’t known for their aim. Still, it doesn’t take long to clean.

  I’m down to my last two rooms. One is a stayover who will be here a second night, so all I need to do is clean the bathroom, dump the trash, and restock the towels, but the other is a checkout. And apparently, they’re waiting until the last minute to leave.

  I take a quick break to check on Aiden, who is playing a board game with Eddie in the lobby, and then tap on the stayover guest’s door. “Housekeeping!” I call. They don’t answer, and there’s no car parked outside the room, so I unlock the door and step inside.

  Now, this is always a tense moment. I can’t count the number of bare asses, naked schlongs, and uncovered cooters I’ve been flashed since I’ve had this job. Most of the time it’s an accident, but occasionally, there will be a pervert who gets off on flashing the housekeeper. Fortunately, the bed is empty.

  I open the bathroom door, but suddenly remember I forgot to grab the toilet cleanser. I make it about three steps back toward my cart before a high-pitched scream fills the room and something slams into my butt, knocking me down on the carpet.

  It happens so fast, I’m not sure what just occurred. I assume someone was in the bathroom, but she didn’t have to knock me down. “I’m sorry!” I shout, getting to my feet. I’m barely standing when the scream rings out again, and I’m rushed by a pile of gray fur.

  What the actual fuck?

  Panic grabs me, and I don’t give the monster a second look as I dart from the room, slamming the door behind me. Max, the maintenance man, hears me yell and sees me holding the door shut as if whatever is inside may be able to pick locks.

  “Veronica? What’s going on?”

  “There’s some deranged, screaming animal in there! It sounded human, but all I saw was hair. It knocked me down when I opened the bathroom door. I’m not going back in there. It’s a mutant! Or a Chupacabra!” I’ve never heard of a Chupacabra in Indiana, but who knows?

  Max snorts with laughter. “Someone probably locked their dog in the bathroom and it was eager for some company when you opened the door.” Max shakes his head at me, a smile on his face. He’s around fifty years old and has worked here for the last ten of them so I imagine he’s seen everything.

  “It wasn’t a dog.”

  He sticks his hand out for the key, and I hand it over, taking a few steps back as he unlocks the door again.

  “Hey, puppy, don’t be scared,” he coos, entering the room.

  He doesn’t exit with that confidence.

  In fact, he barely makes it inside before he’s on his ass. A mass of dirty gray hair tramples over him and runs into the parking lot with another blood curdling scream. This time I get a better look at it.

  “It’s a goat!” I announce.

  “It’s going to be a dead goat,” Max grumbles, getting to his feet.

  The goat rushes over to the field beside the hotel and starts munching on the grass. “Aw, poor thing. I guess it was hungry.”

  Max stares at it. “It’s starving and filthy. I’ll go call Mike and see how he wants to handle this. Animal Control should probably get involved.”

  “It might run off.”

  Max chuckles. “Then let it go. I’m not chasing it, so it can knock me on my ass again.”

  Max heads off to call the manager, and I duck back inside the room. As you can expect from someone who would keep a goat in a hotel room, the place isn’t clean.

  I’ve had some gross rooms in the past. Puke on the floor, shit on the wall beside the toilet, towels soaked in too many body fluids to tell what’s what, but this is the first time I’ve seen a pile of goat shit in a bathtub.

  Mike generally calls in a local crime scene cleanup crew that’s qualified to clean up bodily fluids and hazards if it’s bad. This is bad. Along with the shit in the tub, the goat walked through it at some point, so the whole bathroom is covered. When I let it out, it ran around the room, dragging its nasty hooves over everyt
hing.

  The bed, carpet, and tiny loveseat have brown tracks covering them. This is so not in my job description. I back out and head down to the office.

  “Mom! Is there really a goat in a room?” Aiden asks, excitement ringing in his voice.

  “There was. It’s in the field beside the playground now.” Aiden and Eddie both rush over to the windows while I turn to talk to Ruby, who restrains a smile.

  “It’s not funny. That room is disgusting. There’s a pile of shit in the tub!”

  Ruby bursts out laughing. “Too much for a waffle stomp?”

  Mike and Max approach just as I ask, “What’s a waffle stomp?”

  Max chuckles and grabs the to-do list Ruby has left on the counter. He’s still laughing as he makes his way back out the door.

  “There will be no waffle stomping,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “The crime scene cleaners are coming.”

  “I want waffles!” Aiden pipes up. That does Ruby in, and she retreats to the back office, red faced and vibrating with laughter.

  “Go watch TV or something, Ade. I’ve got one more room and I’ll be done.”

  He runs off, and I follow Ruby. “Are you going to live?” I ask, watching her wipe her eyes.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize the boys were listening. Waffle stomp means to stomp a chunk of shit through the grating over the drain until it goes down.”

  Gross.

  “I’ll never get that image out of my head now. Thanks for that. All I have left is room 110, so I’ll be right next door. Send Aiden over if he gets restless.”

  “Will do.”

  “Freaking waffle stomp,” I grumble, and she dissolves into giggles again behind me.

  The next room is thankfully normal, and less than thirty minutes later, Aiden and I are headed to Carl’s Diner for lunch.

  “Why couldn’t we keep the goat?” Aiden whines as we take our seat in the red and white booth. “It’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair. And where would we keep it?”