by Ashley Jade
However, I am pissed.
My aunt—who’s also not picking up her phone—texted me earlier to say she scored me an interview with Mrs. Dickinson after school.
I’m so desperate I scan the mostly empty parking lot for Sawyer’s minivan.
Of course, there’s no sign of it.
I glance at my watch. “Shit.”
I’d walk, but it’s on the other side of town and my interview is in exactly seventeen minutes.
It will take me at least forty-five to get there on foot. Thirty-five if I start running now.
I rummage through my purse for my phone so I can check my bank account. I have exactly sixty-three bucks, which is enough for an Uber, but not enough to get me lunch the rest of the week.
Actually, make that tomorrow given the overpriced shit they serve here.
Fuck it. I need a job way more than I need lunch money.
I’m opening the app when I hear a deep voice call my name.
I look up at the same time an orange Subaru pulls up to the curb and the driver rolls down the passenger side window.
“Hey, stranger. How you been?”
Holy shit. I’d recognize those dark almond eyes, jet black hair, and crooked smile anywhere.
Tommy DaSilva.
“Hey.” The excitement in my voice betrays me. It’s good to see a childhood friend who doesn’t treat me like garbage. “It’s been forever. How are you?”
He drapes an arm over the passenger seat. “Pretty good. A few ups and downs, but I’m hanging in there.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” It suddenly occurs to me this is the first time I’ve seen him all day. “I had no idea you went here. I didn’t see yo—”
“I don’t.” He sucks in a breath. “My little brother Stone does. Today is his first day of high school and I promised to give him a ride home.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flickers in my chest, but it’s quickly superseded by anxiety. If I have any hope of arriving on time, I need to get a move on. “Give me one second. I have to order an Uber for my job inter—”
“I can give you a lift.”
It’s all I can do not to jump through the window and hug him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“On what? Taking my little brother home?” He pushes the passenger door open and chuckles. “Get in. I won’t take no for an answer.”
He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’m in no position to object his kind offer. “Thanks. The interview is at a place called Top of the Muffin.”
“I’ve been there a few times. The owner is kind of rude, but the food’s good.”
That’s…reassuring.
I notice a football jersey and helmet along with a gym bag in his back seat. “I didn’t know you played football.”
His eyebrows dance. “Yup, I’ve been a Viking since sophomore year.” He winks. “Some say I’m the best linebacker since Lawrence Taylor.”
“I have no idea who that is, but he’s got a stellar last name.”
He places his hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. Come on, Dylan. The Giants. Dude was a legend on the field.” He winces. “Off the field is a different story, but—” His eyes shift to something behind me. “There he is. Finally.”
I watch as a younger, highly irritated version of Tommy swings open the door and climbs into the backseat.
Despite his visibly sour mood, Tommy smiles at him. “About time, rugrat.”
The boy’s frown deepens. “Who’s the chick? Another jersey chaser?”
Tamping down my annoyance, I extend a hand. “Hi, I’m Dylan. I’m an old friend of Tommy’s.”
He dismisses my hand and directs his attention to his brother. “Deal’s off, prick. You couldn’t pay me enough to spend another day in that hellhole.”
Amen to that. Royal Hearts Academy sucks balls.
“It’s only your first day,” Tommy grits through his teeth. “It will get better.”
“Fat fucking chance,” the kid barks. “Not with that stupid bitch there it won’t.”
Woah. That’s some colorful vocabulary for a fourteen-year-old.
Tommy shifts the car into drive. “What happened?”
Stone whips out his phone and shoves it in his brother’s face. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
Tommy slams on the brakes. “I’m driv—what the fuck?” It’s obvious he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. “Damn, all this time I thought I was the one with the shitty genes.” Genuine pity flashes in his eyes. “You’re only fourteen, man. I’m sure it will grow.”
“Fuck you, shithead. That ain’t my dick.”
I nearly choke on my spit.
“That cunt got a picture of me from Debbie and photoshopped some dude’s baby dick on it.”
Tommy tilts the phone, and I regret not closing my eyes. It’s going to be near impossible to get that disturbing visual out of my head.
One thing’s for sure, whoever did it is a photoshop pro.
The only thing that’s off about the pic is the way Stone’s flexing his muscles in the mirror and smiling smugly, appearing mighty proud of his microscopic peen.
“Debbie’s his girlfriend,” Tommy supplies.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Stone corrects. “Any bitch who’d give Bianca a private photo of me so she can destroy my life can go fuck herself with a spiked dildo.”
I sit up in my seat. “Wait, Bianca Covington did this?”
Stone nods. “Yup.”
That seems…excessive. Even for her. “Why?”
Stone snorts. “Because I’m Tom—”
“You’re gonna be late for your job interview,” Tommy cuts in. He glances at Stone through the rearview mirror. “Relax. We’ll sort it out later.”
Stone shakes his head. “No. I told you, I’m done. There’s no way I’ll recover from this shit. Not unless I drop my pants, show her my real cock, and then shove it down her throat in front of everyone.”
Jesus. “Jace will literally kill you if you mess with his little sister.”
Just today he kicked the crap out of a senior she tricked into hooking up with her. I shudder to think what he’d do to a guy forcing his dick down her throat.
Stone’s eyes become tiny slits. “Funny, because last time I checked, it was the DaSilvas wh—”
“Shut up,” Tommy snaps. “Stop bringing up old bullshit.”
Stone rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re officially on your own when it comes to your old bullshit. When we get home, I’m telling Mom I want to go back to public school. If she says no, I’ll run away.”
Tommy steps on the gas. “Fine. Do you, bro.”
Given his little brother’s outburst, I can’t help but wonder. “Is there still bad blood between you and Jace?”
If there is, I’m almost positive whose photoshop skills were utilized for Stone’s picture.
Not many people know it, but Jace is a savant when it comes to computers.
Graphics, programming, and creating his own video games are just a few of his areas of expertise. He can spend days—sometimes hours—in front of a computer screen doing things that would take mere mortals years to perfect.
Tommy grips the steering wheel. “No. I mean, not really.” His expression turns solemn. “Truth be told, I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for how I used to treat his brother.”
“But you and Liam were friends before…”
My heart pangs and I can’t bring myself to finish that sentence.
Liam should be here.
“I know,” Tommy says softly. “You’re right, we were.” He shrugs. “You know how Jace is though. The Vatican can declare you a saint and he’d still hold a grudge against you for a mistake you made when you were a kid.”
He’s not wrong. Jace doesn’t just hold grudges, he embraces them and uses it to fuel his rage.
His own father is a perfect example.
And now he’s doing the same thing to me.
Freezing me out, but not before making my
life a living hell.
For reasons I’ll never understand.
Tommy squeezes my shoulder. “You okay?”
Not really, but I’m not about to unload my issues with Jace onto Tommy.
“Yeah. It just sucks that he can’t let bygones be bygones.”
“Don’t stress. He does his thing and I do mine.” He smirks. “The only time I run into him is when we play against the Knights and my team whoops Cole’s butt on the field.”
His cockiness is almost endearing. “Guess I’ll have to check that out sometime.”
“We’re scheduled to play against them on Friday.” He winks. “It’s the first game of the season so it’s a pretty big deal. It would be awesome to see you there.”
I’m mulling over a polite way to decline when he pulls up to a charming little building with a neon green sign that reads, “Top of the Muffin.”
After checking my watch, I open the car door. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I can pick you up if you want.” He gestures to his little brother. “After I drop him off.”
“Are you sure? I don’t—”
“Sorry, can’t hear you,” he says with a wink as he backs out of the parking lot.
“We’re out of cookies,” a plump woman with fiery red hair and a hint of an Irish accent greets me as I walk up to the counter.
I muster a smile. “That’s okay, I—”
“And that includes macaroons.” She looks me up and down. “I know your type.”
I can’t believe this woman is judging me on my choice of baked goods.
She’s also wrong. I’m a chocolate cake kind of girl. A macaroon passed my lips once, and that was enough.
I smile bigger. “That’s cool, I’m no—”
“If you’re looking for one of those pumpkin spice cream cheese disasters, there’s a Starbucks up the road.”
How in the world does this woman stay in business?
“Not looking for any of those either.”
The woman is visibly annoyed. “I don’t have any—”
“Job interview,” I blurt. “How about one of those?”
The woman blinks. “Oh.” She holds out her hand. “Dylan, right? Your aunt told me you’d be stopping by.”
I shake it. “Nice to meet you.”
She studies me cautiously, her irritation with me returning. “So tell me, Dylan with the blue hair. What’s your favorite dessert?”
“I like chocolate cak—”
“Sorry.” She gestures to the door. “I’m afraid we’re not a good fit.”
She can’t be serious. “Wait? Just like that? That’s not fair. You didn’t even interview me.”
She holds up a finger. “Oh, but I did. I don’t like liars.”
Okay, now I’m offended. “I didn’t lie. I really do like chocolate cake. It’s simple and classic and—”
“Not your favorite.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Fine. Let’s try this one more time. What’s your fav—”
“Irish Soda Bread?”
Now, I’m lying. But if it gets me the job, so be it.
“Kiss ass.” She waves a hand. “Goodbye.”
My heart sinks. “Please, just tell me what the right answer is. Or better yet, ask me some real questions.” I start ticking things off with my fingers. “Like how serious my work ethic is. Or if I’m able to work nights and weekends—I am, by the way. Or, if I have experience—okay, maybe don’t ask that because I don’t, but I’m a quick learner.” I hold her gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t choose the fanciest dessert, or if you thought I was lying because I enjoy chocolate cake, but I really need this job, and I’ll do just about an—”
“What is your—”
“Cannoli,” I yell. “I like cannolis, okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “That was my fourth guess.”
“Does this mean you’ll give me a chance?”
Her lips twist. “Maybe.”
The bell above the door chimes and a man wearing a suit waltzes in. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers and appears like he’s going to pass out any second.
I step aside so he can place his order.
“Hi, I’m proposing to my girlfriend tonight. I know it’s last minute, but I was hoping I could get some chocolate covered str—”
“No.” She taps the counter emphatically. “You look like a cheesecake man.”
This woman is not only out of her mind, she’s the worst salesperson in the history of ever.
The man is proposing. Let him get some strawberries.
He smiles nervously. “Cheesecake is my favorite, but I know she really lov—”
“I assume you bought her a pretty ring?”
He nods emphatically. “Yeah, a little over two carats.”
She whistles. “Lucky girl.” She places an empty cake box on the counter. “Trust me, you want the cheesecake.”
His brows draw together as she removes a large one from the glass case. “But she likes stra—”
“Take it from someone who knows, young man. It is easy to halve the potato where there is love.”
Understandably, he’s confused. “I have no idea what that means.”
You and me both, buddy.
“It means,” she drawls as she closes, then tapes the box. “When you are in love, you share everything together without resentment.” She points to the now packaged cake. “Including this delicious cheesecake.”
Before he can speak, she punches some buttons on her cash register. “That will be $52.47.”
To my astonishment, the man pulls out his wallet and pays her before leaving with the dessert he didn’t ask for.
Her eyes shift to me. “Wednesdays after school from four to eight, and Saturdays six a.m. to eight p.m. The pay is twelve dollars an hour. No paid vacation or sick time. If you do well, I’ll add another shift.”
Her tone leaves no room for negotiation, so I accept. “Perfect.”
She opens the glass case again. “Are you a good baker?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “But you know what they say, there’s always room for improvement.”
She grunts. “How are your cleaning skills?”
“Top notch.”
At least that’s not a lie.
With a sigh, she sets a small paper bag on the counter and places a cannoli in it before handing it to me. “See you on Wednesday. Tell your aunt I said hi.” She holds up a finger. “Wait.”
I watch as she removes an apple turnover from the glass and drops it in the bag. “Her favorite.”
Funny, because I would have sworn her favorite was cinnamon rolls, but I’m not going to argue.
As promised, Tommy’s waiting outside for me.
“Thanks,” I tell him as I slide into the passenger seat.
“Did you get it?”
“After a few tries.”
When he raises an eyebrow, I elaborate. “Let’s just say she’s very picky about people’s dessert preferences.”
Snickering, he peels out of the parking lot. “I should have given you a heads up about that. My bad.”
An awkward silence descends after I give him my address and he plugs it into his GPS.
“Is your bro—”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back,” he says at the same time.
I play with a loose string on my skirt. “I wish I could say the same.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah—no, not really.” I draw in a breath. “If I tell you something, can it stay between us? The only people who know are my family and—”
“Dylan.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll never judge you. Fuck knows I’ve done my share of horrible shit. You can tell me anything.”
Here goes nothing. “My dad…he did some bad things at his job.” I swallow the prickle in my throat. “And now he’s in jail for embezzlement. It’s the reason I’m back. My aunt lives here with her husband and they were nice enough to take me in so I could finish my final year
of high school.”
“Shit.” He exhales sharply. “Damn. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s…I mean, I’m fine. My dad’s an asshole for stealing to impress his dumb wife and deserves to serve his time—but it’s still pretty embarrassing. Fortunately, it didn’t make national headlines, just a few articles in the local paper.” Nerves bunch in my stomach. “I’d really appreciate you not telling a soul. I don’t want everyone in town knowing my dad’s a thief or that he’s in the slammer.”
He reaches over and gives my knee a small squeeze. “Your secrets are safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “If it makes you feel better, my dad’s been in and out of jail my whole life.”
It doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs as he turns down my block. “Don’t be. The guy is a loser. Always has been, always will be.”
“That sucks. I’m sor—”
“How about we stop apologizing for things that aren’t our fault?” he says as he pulls up to the curb alongside my aunt’s house.
That’s something I can agree to. “Deal.”
The awkwardness from earlier returns the moment he cuts the engine and faces me.
“I missed you.”
“Yeah, same here. It was good to see you again.” I fetch my messenger bag from the floor. “Thanks for the rid—”
“I tried getting in touch with you a few times after you left.”
Shit. This is the conversation I’ve been dreading. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I always meant to respond to his messages, but I was too busy trying to deal with all the new changes in my life.
Plus, Tommy reminded me of Jace.
Jace who was ignoring me.
Just like I was ignoring Tommy.
“I should have written you back.”
“Why didn’t you?”
How do you tell someone their feelings were scaring you? Or that you were into someone else way more than you were into them?
My stomach knots when it occurs to me. Maybe that’s why Jace refused to speak to me?
No. If he didn’t have any feelings for me, he wouldn’t have done or said what he did right before I left.
“I don’t know.”
Tommy looks at me like I’m full of shit. He’s not wrong.
“Wow,” he scoffs. “One of the things I liked most about you was that in a world full of liars and fakes, you always kept it real.”