by Elle Casey
“Where? The mall? Department stores or independent ones? Because I was thinking, maybe you should shoot lower to start. Just until you get on your feet. Everyone’s looking for summer jobs right now and you’re kind of starting late.”
I’m almost too embarrassed to tell her about my day. Dropping my face into my hands in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, I explain. “I struck out at the mall, so I went downtown.”
“Downtown … like to all the ritzy businesses?”
“No. That’s uptown, dingleberry. I went downtown.”
“Oooohhhh. Like to the promised land? The land of the golden teeth?”
“Yes. Exactly.” I lift my face up and breathe in loud and long through my nose. “That’s the place.”
“And they rejected you?”
“Yep.” My face heats up a little. I can’t look at her.
Her voice gets softer. “Oh. That sucks donkey dong.”
“Yeah, and it’s not the worst part.”
“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with any of them.”
I elbow her, but keep my eyes forward. “If I had thought it would help, I might have considered it. But no, my virginity is intact.”
She snorts as she laughs.
“You know what I mean. My virginity of the day.”
“Oh, okay. You didn’t pop your cherry of the day. That makes more sense.”
“Jesus, Quin, you act like I’m some kind of ho-bag running around and sleeping with every guy on campus.” I finally look at her, too fake-offended to ignore her stupid face anymore.
“We both know what a ho-bag you are, so stop playing. Tell me what happened. Where did you look for a job?”
Another heavy sigh later and I’m ready to share. “A pawn shop, a laundromat, and a car repair place.”
She’s laughing before I’m even done. “A pawn shop? Are you serious?”
I’m half laughing with her and half mad. “What the fuck, Quin. I’m desperate!”
Shaking her head, she stands. “You are not that desperate. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, taking her hand and standing with her.
“Wash your face and brush your hairy teeth. We’re going out.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I have a depression to tend to.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen. Come on, I got my birthday money early.”
“Uncle Ramon?”
“Yep. Good old Uncle Ramon. We’ve got a hundred bucks to blow, and I know just the place to blow it, too.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, splashing water on my face. I’m warming to the idea of not sleeping in the bathroom tonight. “Where?”
“A club downtown. They say celebrities go there. Maybe we’ll catch a glimpse of one.”
“We’ve tried to catch glimpses of celebrities for the whole four years we’ve been here, and never once have we been successful at it.” I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones in the entire city able to say that.
“That’s because we spent too much time on campus. Now we’re going to remedy that.” She lifts up her arms and starts moving her hips. “We’re gonna go dancin’, and drinkin’, and flirtin’, and …”
I push her out the door and shut it behind her, turning the lock quickly before she can grab the handle.
“Hey! I was in my groove in there!”
“Go find your groove out in the family room. I have to pee.”
“I’ve seen you pee a million times. Let me in. We need to put together our plan of attack.”
I sit down on the toilet and roll my eyes, ignoring the rest of her not-at-all-convincing arguments for re-admittance. Whenever Quin puts together a plan of attack and innocent guys are her victims, I always end up in the crossfire, kissing future asscar drivers and the like.
Oh well. It’s not like I have anything else to do. And this bathroom was getting lame anyway. Might as well go out and live it up one last time with my friend before I start my new career as a prostitute. I figure that’s the only thing left to me at this point.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WE’RE STANDING IN LINE OUTSIDE the club when we get our first celebrity sighting.
“Oh my effing G!” Quin squeals, grabbing my arm and squeezing it for all she’s worth. “That’s Tarin Kilgour!”
I frown at the person she’s staring at. “No, it’s not. Tarin’s taller than that.”
“Yes, it is! Put your glasses on, freak!” She’s lost it. Now she’s jumping up and down while holding onto my arm, jerking me all over the place.
The guy is with some girl I’ve never seen in the gossip magazines, heading towards a car parked at the curb. They almost get there before they’re interrupted by a small gaggle of chicks wearing very high heels and extremely short skirts and one wispy guy whose clothes are just as flamboyant. Fan-girls and fan-boys attack!
“Okay, maybe it is him.” I watch the drama unfold as one of the girls and one of the guys get a little too aggressive and Tarin backs away.
Then all of a sudden two big muscle guys from the club come out and get in the middle, one of them picking up the girl and carrying her away as she struggles and the second grabbing the guy. Their goofy friends toddle after them in platform heels, purses swinging around their sides.
My heart does a triple flip when I see who the first bouncer is. “Rebel.”
“What’d you say?” asks Quin. She’s still staring at Tarin as he rushes to get into the backseat of his car. The looney bird girl who is being carried away is still screaming and reaching out for him. It’s possible the fan-boy is crying.
“Rebel. I know that guy … the one carrying the chick away.”
Finally, I have Quin’s attention. “You know him? How is it you know that gorgeous hunk of man meat and I don’t?” She’s waiting for an answer, her eyes practically glowing with ideas.
I’m torn between feeling lucky and being angry that this gorgeous hunk of man meat rejected me more thoroughly than I’ve ever been rejected in my entire life. “He turned me down at my last job attempt today.”
“You didn’t mention you tried to get a job at a club. That might be fun.”
“I didn’t mention it because it didn’t happen. He has another job, apparently. He owns a car garage.”
“Ooohhhh, I get it now. So what’d he say?” We take a few steps forward as some people are let inside to replace the ones who came out. The club must be at its max capacity right now. Either that or they’re acting like their shit is so awesome, they can make us wait outside just because they want to.
“He said nothing,” I say.
“Nothing? As in nothing-nothing, or something-nothing.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing-nothing. He said zero. Zip. Nada. No words passed his lips.”
She grins big.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” It’s never a good thing when she makes this face.
“Sounds to me like you didn’t get rejected.”
I turn back to face the front of the line. “Trust me. It was rejection.”
“I think you should go back and try again.”
“And I think you should date Perry.”
“Now why would you say such a thing?” she asks, pretending to be offended.
“Because, both suggestions are equally heinous. Now leave me alone about the job thing. I’m not in the mood. You’re harshing my mellow.”
“You don’t have any mellow right now, but I’m going to remedy that. Come on.” She grabs me by the forearm and drags me out of line.
“Good. Because I didn’t want to go to this crappy club anyway.” I hope she’s taking me home. I wouldn’t mind having about eight beers in the comfort of Perry’s apartment. He’ll be out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. Or maybe he’ll be there and he’ll put a car in his butt. Anything would be better than being here at this point.
“Yes, you do want to go into this crappy club.” She’s dragging me to the front door where the muscle car bouncer is back at his station.
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“No, Quin,” I say, trying to get my arm back.
“Yes, Teagan.” She’s little, but she’s a lot more powerful than I give her credit for. When she’s on a mission, it’s very hard to hold her back from it. And because I had the spectacularly bad foresight to let her talk me into wearing heels tonight, I have almost no leverage for a getaway.
Quin finally stops when she’s standing in front of Rebel. He’s left the fangirls with the cops and is once more manning the door. “Hello, Rebel,” she says.
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Then he looks at me, and it’s possible I see a flicker of recognition in his eye. Or it could be just my imagination, because of course he says nothing at all.
“I said, hello, Rebel.”
Oh boy. Quin has her hands on her hips and she’s getting feisty.
“It’s common in our society when greeted to return that greeting,” she persists.
I pray for the invisibility spell that I used to try and conjure when I was a little kid and my dad was yelling at someone in front of me. I’m so not in the mood to be part of the evening’s entertainment.
“Hey!” yells someone behind us.“Get in the back of the line!”
“Eat me, twerker!” Quin yells, never taking her eyes off Rebel. In a softer voice she asks, “You remember my friend, Teagan, right?” She looks at me and smiles before turning back to him.
“Can we go now?” I ask, looking anywhere but at the man with the deepset eyes and the spiked blonde hair. His muscles are mostly covered by a club t-shirt tonight, but that doesn’t stop them from being painfully obvious and sexy. I hate that he’s such a good-looking jerk. If I were in charge of this planet, all looks would match personality. Ugly guy? Ugly personality. Gorgeous hunk of man-meat? Courageous, honest, loyal, sweetheart inside. I don’t see the need for all the trickery.
“No, we can’t go now. We’re going inside,” Quin says, using her ultra sweet but determined voice. I sigh heavily, knowing this is about to get ugly.
“Not without ID you’re not,” a deep voice says.
I look at Rebel sharply, wondering if my ears are deceiving me. But no other person has stepped up to take over the bouncer’s job, so it must have been him who spoke.
Quin elbows me. “Get your ID out. Hurry up before he starts giving us the silent treatment again.”
I notice his mouth quirking up just the slightest bit before he goes back to being a statue. I take out my driver’s license and hand it over to Quin. She presents them both to Rebel for his review.
He barely glances at hers before handing it back. Mine, he stares at for a long time. Then he looks up at me, his eyes narrowing. “This isn’t her. You can go in, but she has to stay out.”
My mouth drops open.
“Please,” says Quin, barking out a sarcastic laugh. “As if. Hand it over. How much is the cover charge?” She puts her hand out for my ID, but he holds onto it.
“Cover is fifteen bucks. Pay inside.” He looks at the person standing behind us.
The guy standing there starts to crowd up against me, so I whip around and give him my death glare. “Back the fuck off, asshole.”
He throws up his hands. “Sorry, geez, lighten up.”
Lighten up? Is he frigging kidding me? I turn back around, ready to let this suck wagon Rebel the a-hole have it. But first I have to break the news to Quin that our date is off.
“Quin, I’m outta here. Go without me.”
“No way! I’m not letting this assbag ruin our night.”
I ignore her and do the best I can to salvage my life. I hold out my hand towards Rebel and sigh with annoyance. “Just give me back my ID and I’ll leave.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I have to confiscate all fake IDs.”
The heat rushes to my face and neck, making me feel like I’ve just caught on fire. But since there’s no smoke coming out of my ears and nose, I figure it’s just plain old everyday humiliation going on here. “It’s not fake. It’s me.”
“Could you step to the side please?” He’s not even looking at me when he says it, and that makes me madder than I think I’ve ever been. It’s the last straw, to be treated like I don’t even matter enough to be looked at when spoken to.
“No, as a matter of fact, I can’t step to the side. Not until you give me my ID, asshole.”
Someone walks up to stand next to him, but I don’t bother looking to see who it is. It could be a cop for all I care. I’m not leaving this place without my driver’s license.
Rebel just stares at me with a totally bland expression on his face.
I’m so tempted to smack it off him, I have to put my hands in fists and force them to my sides. Getting arrested for assault and battery would be a really bad idea right now. I have no bail money and no friends with bail money.
“You can’t keep her license,” says Quin. “That’s stealing.”
“I need my license,” I say, ignoring my friend, ignoring the people in line, ignoring the people standing next to Rebel. “I have to go job hunting tomorrow, which means I have to drive, which means I need my license.”
“Oh, hey! You’re that girl.”
I barely recognize the voice, but once the words penetrate my angry brain, I look over. The skinny guy from the car repair shop is standing next to Rebel.
“Yeah,” I say bitterly. “I’m that girl.” I turn back to Rebel. “Seriously. Stop fucking around and give me my ID. I’m going to call the cops.”
“What’s the deal, man?” Skinny guy is talking to Rebel.
“Get back to work, Mick.”
“Fuck that. What’d you do to the poor girl this time?” He’s calling me poor girl, but he’s smiling. I want to smack him too.
“Who’s your friend?” Mick asks, catching sight of Quin.
She smiles at him but then stops immediately when she catches my expression. I consider any flirting with this group of Rebel Wheels guys to be traitorous activity, punishable by silent treatment for at least a week. Probably a month.
“My friend is none of your business. Will you please tell your boss to give me my ID?”
“My boss? He ain’t my boss.”
“Whatever!” I scream. I’ve lost it, the words tumbling out without being reviewed by my brain first. “Give me my fucking ID, you old-as-shit ape!”
Mick starts laughing. “I think she just called you old-as-shit, bro.”
Rebel stands up from the stool he was sitting on.
I’m not going to lie; it’s intimidating as crap. I have to look up to see his face, but I hold my ground. No way am I leaving this place without my license.
“You have thirty seconds to leave the property or I’m calling the police.”
“Yo, he really doesn’t like being called old,” says Mick from behind him.
Rebel reaches back and grabs Mick by the neck, yanking him forward. “Get … to work.”
Mick gives Rebel a half-hearted punch in the ribs before walking back into the club. He goes in backwards and eyes Quin the entire way. “See you inside, sweetheart.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right. Dream on, twig.”
The shocked look on his face is classic. I can’t help but laugh. Quin is the best friend of all time, ever.
The guy in line behind us gets bold enough to step in front of me as he’s holding out his ID. Rebel barely gives it a glance before motioning the guy in. He does the same for the next girl in line who looks like she’s maybe twelve years old. Quin and I find ourselves on the outside of the entrance, watching asshole after asshole enter the club in front of us.
“I cannot believe this is my life,” I say, watching as my heart turns into stone. I feel totally dead inside. I’m too angry to cry and too sad to scream.
And then a woman who’s about a foot taller than me walks up and stands next to Rebel. As she takes in the sight of me and Quin standing there, she puts her hand on Rebel’s shoulder, a smug, humorless smile moving across her face. A curtain of white-blonde h
air falls over her shoulders and skims across her ample chest as she turns and leans in closer to him.
“Is there a problem here?” She looks up at us again and narrows her heavily darkened eyes. She could very possibly be a cover model from a foreign country, she’s so pretty. Calling her looks perfect would not do them adequate justice, and that just pisses me off more. Now I’m not only ID-less, but I also immediately compare my looks to hers and feel like the old cat-pee couch you put out on the curb. I hate feeling like an old cat-pee couch.
Rebel answers her question. “No.” Everyone in line is staring at the woman like Quin and I are. Rebel seems to be the only one unaffected by her stunning beauty. For some reason it makes me mad that he’s pretending like she isn’t the most beautiful girl here. Like he’s so awesome, she doesn’t even register on his radar. Just like I don’t register on his radar. Stuck-up pile of man whore.
“Hell yes, there’s a problem,” I say sharply, fired up by my imaginings of his character and the whole cat-pee thing. “Tell him to give me my ID.”
Her arm slides over until it’s lying across his shoulders. “Do you have it?” She leans over to look at his face. The intimacy between them is hard to miss. Ugh. I instantly despise her while at the same time knowing that it makes no sense. She’s nothing to me, a stranger who probably makes a perfect couple with this stone-cold bouncer car mechanic guy.
He lifts his hand up to take the next person’s ID. Two seconds later, he waves the person in as he hands it back. The girl he just let in looks young enough to still be wearing a training bra.
“Come on,” says Quin, taking my arm. She pauses to flip Rebel off, but he’s too busy letting people in the door to notice.
The blonde lady sees it, though, and sneers at us. “Have a good night,” she says with saccharine sweetness. She leans in more heavily against Rebel, threatening to smother him with her boobage. He continues to take IDs as if she’s not there.
I want to slap that smile off her face so bad right now, but Quin is dragging me away. I try to push away the images of him sitting there and that woman draped all over him like a mink coat.