“Allison, don’t be—”
I hit end and toss my phone to the table. How I share DNA with that woman, I’ll never know. She’s flighty and love-obsessed. I’m grounded and wouldn’t recognize love if it hit me in the face. She loves pretty dresses and makeup. I love my Docs and vintage band tees. But she’s my mom. My dad would have moved mountains for me. He promised me the moon, shared his love of music with me, and the only thing he loved more than performing was me. Mom, on the other hand… She loves me, but I don’t think she loves being my mom. When I was younger, she insisted on having me stay with her for the majority of the time. I thought, hey, she must love me if she’s fighting for me, but now I know it was because the thought of being alone is utterly fucking unbearable to her.
I put my headphones on, turning the volume all the way up as I focus on my screen. I refuse to dwell on my mother, who is in Hawaii living her best life. Meanwhile, I’m over here technically homeless. I’m not bitter at all. I’m not sure how much time has passed when a hand waves in front of my face. I startle, looking up to see Lo.
I take my headphones off, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind my ears.
“Want anything to eat before I tell Pete to head out? It’s dead tonight, so I’m going to close up early.”
“Oh,” I say, shocked by how late it’s gotten. “I’m good. Let me just…” I save my work, then start to gather my things.
“You’re fine. Stay as long as you want. Just lock up for me before you go, yeah?” Lo drops her keys onto the table in front of me.
“Are you sure?”
She looks at me with an eyebrow arched. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have a spare set at home anyway.”
I shrug. I don’t know the rules about these things. “I’ll be done soon.”
“Stay however long you need.”
I look past her, seeing her boyfriend Dare waiting for her at the door, sporting a plain white tee, arms full of colorful ink, brooding expression. Jesus, that guy is hot in that intense, intimidating-as-fuck kind of way. He owns Bad intentions, the tattoo shop next door, so they’re back and forth a lot.
Once Lo is within reach, he grabs a handful of her ass, pulling her toward him for a kiss. She melts into him, laughing as she bites into his lower lip. He groans, getting lost in her before his eyelids pop open, landing on me. I look away, cheeks burning, and then he’s tugging on her hand, pulling her outside. I wasn’t watching them because I’m some kind of perv. I guess I was just trying to understand. It’s not that I don’t think love exists. On the contrary, actually. Love is real. Powerful. It has the potential to destroy you. To start wars and end lives. Love is a weapon. Love is dangerous, and I want nothing to do with it.
I watched how love made my mom the happiest person in the world. Then she became the craziest person in the world. And when my dad died, the saddest person in the world, even though they hadn’t been together for years. Don’t even get me started on the men who’ve come and gone since. I’ve found my mother sobbing on the bathroom floor, unable to work, eat, or function more times than I can count. All because of some guy. Why would anyone subject themselves to that kind of emotional torture? I promised myself at a young age that I’d never be like her. I’d never let love make me crazy.
Pushing those thoughts away, I look down at my phone, deliberating my next move. I’m low on options. I could call Dylan. Again. I could try to find a hotel room in my budget for tonight only—not likely in this tourist town.
Or…I could simply stay here. Lo did say I could stay as long as I want. What’s the worst that could happen? I stand, walking toward the entrance, and flip the lock. Pete must have left when I was stuck in my thoughts, not bothering to say goodbye. Typical. I raid the kitchen, looking for something small and simple to ease the burning pit in my stomach. I settle for a banana, tossing the peel into the trash. I munch on it, flipping all the lights off around the bar, leaving only the back room on.
Once I’m finished, I set the alarm on my phone, so that I can be out of here long before people show up, and crawl back into my booth, curling into a ball on my side. I lift my hood over my head and pull my sleeves down to cover most of my hands in an effort to get warmer. Fingering the cracked leather bench, I start to form a mental game plan, but I don’t get far before my eyelids grow heavy and sleep takes over.
* * *
FOUR DAYS I’VE BEEN SECRETLY sleeping at Blackbear, and even though Dylan has since returned my calls, I haven’t clued him in on my living situation. It sounds crazy, but I’d actually rather sleep in a booth than stay at his party pad. It’s quiet at Blackbear. Private. I can eat, sleep, do my schoolwork, and stare at my journal, willing the words to come without interruption. The only thing I can’t do is shower, but I was able to sneak into the dorms a couple of times. I know I need to figure something else out. The longer I stay, the more likely it is that I’ll get caught. I feel guilty for taking advantage of Lo when she’s been nothing but nice to me, but I’m not hurting anyone.
I’m walking through the quad on my way to my next class, the ground still frozen solid, even though the sun is trying to peek out for the first time this year, when I hear someone shout from behind me.
“Hey,” a boy with a blond buzzed cut says, jogging up to me. He’s wearing a flannel over a Vandals tee and fitted jeans. Chuck Taylors on his feet. “Allison, right?” he says, smoothing a flat hand over his short hair.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, trying to figure out if I’ve met him somewhere before.
“Garrett.” He points to himself. “We’re in music marketing together,” he supplies, reading the question mark on my face.
“Oh, right.”
“You like Gutterpunk?” he asks knowingly.
“How did you—”
“Lucky guess,” he jokes, pointing at my binder full of various band stickers.
“I’m surprised anyone in this town knows who they are.”
“I’m surprised anyone in this generation knows who they are,” he tosses back.
“Touché.” I laugh, knowing it’s true. Gutterpunk is a sloppy punk band—as the name suggests—from the nineties. With them being from Huntington Beach, everyone knew who they were back home.
“Did you know they’re playing a secret show this weekend?”
“Here? No way.”
“Way. They’re playing at The Lamppost, if you want to go together, maybe?”
My lips twist, contemplating. I don’t know him, but we have a class together. That has to count for something. Plus, he clearly has good taste in music, so he’s automatically cooler than ninety-five percent of the people I’ve met here.
“Or we can meet there, if that’s less weird.” He gives me an out, no doubt sensing my hesitation.
“Let’s do that.” I smile, genuinely excited to go. I haven’t been to a show since…well, since my dad was alive. “Where’s The Lamppost, though?” I’ve never heard of it before, and my dad knew of every venue in a two-hundred-mile radius.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?” He raises a brow. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the address Friday night.”
I’m way too intrigued to say no. I take his phone from his proffered hand. “And how do you know about this place?” I ask as I type my number in, suspicion lacing my tone.
“I know people,” he says cryptically. I can’t tell if he’s pulling my leg or not, so I don’t comment.
“I’ll see you Friday then.” I slap his phone into his palm and he flashes me a smile.
“It’s a date.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off, walking away from me backwards. “It’s a figure of speech. Relax.”
Right. Not everyone is hitting on you, Allison. I spin around, heading for my next class.
Class goes by quickly, and then I meet up with Halston to hang out for a little bit before I head back to Blackbear.
“I’m going to start charging you rent,” Lo jokes, and I stop short, ner
ves bubbling in my stomach. “I’m kidding, Allison.” She laughs. “You’re my best employee. I wish everyone was as dedicated,” she says loudly for Jesse’s benefit, who’s sitting at the bar with a plate of food.
“I don’t fucking work here.”
I eye the bowl of suckers next to him, and he follows my gaze, smirking when he realizes my thought process. Instead of handing them to me like a decent human, he slides them closer to himself, daring me to get close enough to take one. We haven’t spoken since the day I overheard him arguing with Lo. He hasn’t been around much, but on the rare occasion he is, he hasn’t so much as looked in my direction.
“Well, you should,” Lo says, her voice monotone.
I leave them to their bickering, walking past the bar toward the back room. But Jesse sits sideways on his stool and throws out an arm, stopping me with the bowl of suckers at my stomach. He raises a brow when I don’t immediately dig in.
I roll my eyes, quickly finding the brownish label I’m looking for, then move past him. I hear him chuckle behind me before Lo’s chastising follows.
“Don’t even think about it,” Lo warns.
I can’t see Jesse’s reaction, and if he responds, I don’t hear it.
“I mean it. Leave her alone. If you fuck this up, I’ll be even more short-staffed.”
She doesn’t need to worry about that.
I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, but when I come back out front, ready for my shift, Jess is gone. I let out a sigh of relief. Or maybe it’s one of disappointment.
* * *
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU going?” Sully asks as I swipe my keys off the counter. Not having a place of my own is getting old fast. You’d think I’d be used to it after twenty years of bouncing from shitty apartment to even shittier apartment, never knowing when my mom would skip paying rent to support her drug habit instead.
“Not in the mood tonight,” I say, referring to the kickback-turned-party taking place around us. I’m sick of this whole fucking scene. He nods, knowing what I mean. He’s probably the only one who knows the real me.
“Hit me up tomorrow.”
Walking outside, I make a beeline for my truck, not stopping to make small talk with anyone lingering in the front yard. I don’t know where the hell I’m going, but I throw the gear in drive, laying on the gas. I’m on autopilot as I drive through town, wondering how everything got so fucked up. I’ve been staying at Sully’s, not wanting to look Lo in the eye and have to lie to her every goddamn day, but the longer I stay there, the better going home sounds.
I’m about to pass Blackbear and Bad Intentions, and at the last second, I jerk the wheel, skidding into the dark parking lot. Empty. Quiet. Fully stocked with liquor. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.
I park, killing the engine, then jump out, fishing my keys to Blackbear from my pocket as I approach the door. A light shines from somewhere in the back, and I cup my hands on the glass of the door, trying to see inside. When I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, I shrug it off, turning the lock, then I close the door behind me. Someone must’ve forgotten to turn it off earlier. I go straight for the bar, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the shelf. I don’t get the lid off before I hear a faint noise from somewhere behind me. I pause, listening, scanning the dining area.
Quietly setting the bottle onto the bar, I start to move in the direction it came from. Just when I think I’m trippin’, I hear it again. A soft moan. My eyes snap toward the sound and I see something hanging off the edge of one of the booths. Grabbing my phone, I turn the flashlight on, seeing a foot. A woman’s dainty ass foot with black-painted toenails. The fuck? I trace up the body attached to said foot with my flashlight, only to realize it’s Allison. She’s lying on her side, headphones covering her ears, fists tucked under her chin, lips slightly parted.
What the fuck is she doing here? At first, I think she must’ve fallen asleep after her shift, but as I take in the scene in front of me, I know it’s more than that. Her open backpack is on the table with her toothbrush lying on top of a wad of clothes, and her boots with socks stuffed inside are on the floor next to her. I tamp down the urge to wake her up and ask what the fuck is going on and shoot off a text to Sully instead.
Me: Text your girl and find out where Allison lives.
Not thirty seconds pass before my phone vibrates in my hand.
Sully: Now?
Me: ASAP.
Minutes pass as I stare at her sleeping form, waiting for a response. Her hair is in a messy wad on top of her head, strands sticking out every which way. I can hear the faint sound of the song playing on her CD player that’s propped on top of the table. She looks so fucking serene, like she doesn’t have a care in the world, even though she’s posted up in a goddamn bar.
My phone vibrates in my hand again, lighting up with a text.
Sully: She was staying with Halston at her dorm until the RA kicked her out. Halston says she’s staying with some dude now.
Interesting. I work my jaw, having a good idea who “some dude” is. The only question is, why isn’t she there? Why is she sleeping in a fucking booth instead of a cushy bed? Trouble in paradise? I back away quietly as I came, as I start to formulate a plan.
“You hiring homeless people now?” I ask sarcastically. “You’re more desperate than I thought.”
“What are you talking about?” Lo asks, a frown marring her features, making her look more like our mother than I’d ever admit out loud. Those are fighting words.
“You didn’t know?” I play dumb. “Your girl Allison’s camped out in Blackbear right now, and from the looks of it, she’s been staying there for a while.”
“Allison? As in Allison Parrish, my server, Allison?” Lo seems shocked, but then I see the moment realization dawns in her eyes. “She’s stayed late almost every night this week. I figured she just needed a place to study, so I gave her keys.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t she live with her dad? Maybe shit hit the fan at home.”
“Her dad?” I didn’t realize she had a dad. I mean, everyone has a dad—except us, of course—but she’s never spoken about him and I’ve never seen him. I figured she was here by herself for school. “No clue. I barely know the chick.” Sort of the truth. I know her body, but I don’t know shit about her.
“Yeah, when I first started at Blackbear, she used to come in with her dad all the time. Haven’t seen him in a long time, though,” she adds as an afterthought. “Maybe I’m mixing customers up. But I could’ve sworn…”
I shrug. “Either way, you’ve got a stowaway.” I grab an apple from the bowl on her counter, taking a big bite before turning to leave, now that I’ve planted that little seed of information. Lo can’t resist helping an underdog. It’s an unfortunate side effect of growing up the way we did.
“When are you going to come home, Jess?” she asks grudgingly. I know it killed her to be the one to ask.
“I don’t know. Is this my home?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” She’s pissed, and for some reason, it takes a weight off my shoulders. She’s with Dare now, all fucking coupled up. I’m not trying to be a third wheel. I was supposed to be gone, making a life for myself. Instead, I ended up right back where I started with nothing to show for it. I have no one to blame but myself—least of all Lo—but I still find myself feeling bitter.
Truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready to come back. Sully’s is getting old, but at least I can drink and smoke and fuck and coast in peace. No one to call me on my shit. No one to guilt-trip me. No one to look at me with disappointment in their eyes.
Lo comes up behind me, spinning me around by my elbow. I focus on a spot on the wall behind her, not meeting her eyes. “Your home is wherever I am. It’s always been that way, always will be. If you want to go fuck off and do your thing, fine. But you always have a home with me. School or no school. Dare or no Dare. Whether we’re fighting or not. It’s you and me.”
She says that now, but if
she knew where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing, she’d feel a hell of a lot differently.
Lo pulls me in for a hug and I let her, resting my chin on the top of her head. I fucking hate when she does this, making me feel my emotions and shit. I pull back, clearing my throat.
“Stay—or go—but I’m going to bed. Apparently, I’ve got a squatter to deal with in the morning.”
I bob my head and turn for the door. She looks disappointed that I’m leaving, but I’ll be back. Sooner than she thinks.
“Oh, and Lo?” I say, one hand on the doorknob. She looks at me in question. “Don’t tell her I told you.”
Her eyebrows pinch together, perplexed.
“Shit’s embarrassing.”
She nods, her eyes softening like I’m some fucking saint. “I won’t tell anyone about that bleeding heart you got there either.”
I roll my eyes, giving her the middle finger, hearing her laughter trailing after me.
* * *
“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPING BEAUTY.” THE dry voice cuts through my sleep and I jump up, pushing the headphones off my ears, heart racing, to see Lo sitting on the seat opposite me.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I wince, my neck hurting from the position I slept in and my left ear sore from the headphone pressing into it all night.
“Relax,” Lo says, both hands cradling a mug. “Coffee?” She slides a second mug toward me. I eye it, hesitating.
“Are you mad?” I ask sheepishly. I consider saying that I simply fell asleep. But I’ve been caught. Might as well not add insult to injury by lying about it.
She exhales audibly, cocking her head to the side. “Depends. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I take a sip of the coffee—the black coffee—trying to choke down the bitter taste to buy time. Lo waits patiently, big, expressive eyes boring into me.
“My grandparents have a vacation rental here, and they said I could stay there while I go to school.”
Bad Influence Page 6