Stake You (Stake You #1)

by Claire Farrell

Chapter Two

  I walked home after school, saving the money for eggs this time. I picked up some milk and a couple of other things, ready to force some food into my mother before I left for work. Friday night meant she could be alone until 5am. I needed to make sure she ate first.

  As I left the corner shop, I noticed a vaguely familiar car parked outside. The engine revved, and I realised it was the same flash car I had seen at school. I moved closer to the car, and the driver pulled out sharply, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes minus the sunglasses and swallowed hard. A flash of red around the irises forced me back a step, my fingers gripping the plastic shopping bag as tightly as possible.

  The car flew down the road and around the corner without any regard for the stop sign. I took a couple of deep breaths, mentally shaking myself for freaking out. He was probably wearing coloured lens contacts. What a gimp.

  By the time I made it home, I had already forgotten about red-eyed little boy racers. My mother was sitting on the sofa when I let myself in. She hugged a bottle of wine to her chest, tears flooding her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I called him, Dev. And he wouldn’t even speak to me. Called me all sorts of names. Said… said his wife was there.”

  “You didn’t.” I rolled my eyes. Great. I thought I had gotten rid of all of the wine. It had always made her weepy. She was getting sneaky again, and I had grown too lax when it came to searching the house.

  “What did I do wrong?” She hiccupped a sob.

  “Mam. It’s not you, okay? Not this time. He’s not a good person. You know this. Stop hurting yourself over him.”

  “But I loved him. I still do. We had so many good times together, Devlin. You didn’t see. You don’t know. You can’t understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  And I didn’t understand. I would never allow myself to love anyone. I would never be her. I would never cry over a man, never give one the power to hurt me like this. But I sat next to her, wrapped my arms around her, and gave her exactly five minutes to cry. I let her wallow in her pity party for five minutes only, and then I was back on my feet, ushering her into the shower and ignoring her sobs.

  I scrubbed as much as I could in the kitchen, made her an omelette, and stood there and watched her force down a glass of water. She spluttered, eyeing me carefully, but I had to be firm. As much as I loved her, I knew full well that she could be sly when tempted to numb the pain with alcohol.

  I filled a second glass and left it in front of her before looking for my uniform to get ready for work. I would send a takeaway to the house around midnight, and that should keep her going until the morning. Or afternoon, depending on when she woke up.

  But the clean laundry basket was full of puke. Right on top of my uniform.

  “Shit!”

  I scrambled around my room, trying to find my spare, but it was probably buried under the permanent laundry mountain that existed in the living room. Taking deep, calming breaths, I rummaged through my wardrobe for my old uniform. The one that didn’t fit anymore. I really hoped a non-sleazy bartender was on call at work because the stupid uniform was way too tight and managed to look school-girl provocative instead of don’t-notice-me-unless-you-want-a-drink professional. Godamnit.

  I pinned up my heavy load of hair and prayed it wouldn’t fall down at work. I wished I could have cut it short, but the last trim had made Mam cry for days, so I wasn’t going to risk it again. I couldn’t bear her tears.

  Making sure I covered the dark circles under my eyes with makeup, I finally finished getting ready and made to leave. But Mam clung to me, gasping and crying, begging me to stay with her, desperate not to be alone. She was afraid of the dark, of the silence, afraid of everything, but she had me to depend on, and that was infinitely better than any of her loser ex-boyfriends.

  The sole decent one had been driven away by her incessant neediness, and I couldn’t find it in myself to blame him. But whenever I saw him, I flipped him off because him leaving had broken us and left me in charge. His leaving had hurt me, too.

  Calming my mother down took long minutes I didn’t have, and eventually I had to walk out and slam the door behind me. It took everything to ignore the wail of pain coming from the house, but I needed to be strong. I needed to be the adult.

  Work was too far to walk, so I had to take the bus. I tended to get a lift home from the manager or my favourite doorman, but sometimes I was stuck and needed to waste money on a taxi. If the tips weren’t big then I had no choice but to walk home alone in the dark, so I carried something sharp in my purse and my keys in my hand, ready to stab a potential rapist or thief in the eye. Nobody was taking my precious tips from me.

  By the time I made it into work, the place was in an uproar. “Party upstairs tonight,” Tom, the doorman, warned me.

  “Please say it isn’t a hens.”

  “Worse. An eighteenth.” He grinned at me, showing his gold upper tooth. “And you’re stung for it.”

  “Fabulous. Wait a minute. Did you say an eighteenth?”

  He nodded, and I moved through the bar in a daze. The party Shauna had spoken about had been an eighteenth party. Probably coincidence.

  Mark, the manager, was in a fluster by the time I put my apron on. “Big crowds tonight,” he said running his hands through his thick red hair. “Reservations downstairs, party upstairs, and half the doormen rang in sick. This is fucked up.”

  “I can deal with downstairs with Tom,” I said hopefully.

  “I need you upstairs. Franco’s alone up there, and you’re the only lounge staff on roster tonight who can count change in a hurry and pull a pint if he needs it. Try to work on the floor. Keep the bar as free as possible. If they get fiesty, I’ll send Tom up.”

  “Fine. Float, please.”

  He stilled, eyeing the open energy drink can in my hand.

  “Should I start paying you in these? Or would raw caffeine be more efficient?”

  I smacked his wrist gently. “Don’t judge. Remember that kid you hired a couple of months ago? You know, the one who kept taking naps in the ladies bathroom?”

  He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. I’m extremely grateful to employ the girl who never sleeps.” He handed me a pile of coins and some notes. “Call down as soon as it looks like it might get out of hand. All right, Dev?”

  I nodded and ran up the backstairs to start arranging the tables properly. Someone had already come in to decorate the place, but there weren’t even beer mats on the tables, and I silently cursed Franco. He actually had the nerve to stand in the doorway and watch me work.

  “If you aren’t going to get up off your arse and help me, then get back behind the bar and make sure there are enough clean glasses to keep us going for the first bloody hour,” I snapped at him.

  If I were full-time I would have been ahead of Franco. He was a lazy sod who spent more time chatting up drunken female customers than he did working. He was pretty good-looking, but a total sleaze, so I couldn’t understand what anyone saw in him, apart from the free drinks he insisted on doling out to anyone in a short skirt. I had caught him shagging in the ladies more often than I could count, but he could pull pints quickly when he applied himself. I couldn’t wait for him to mess up so badly that Mark had to sack him, because I was next in line for his job.

  A gang of giggling teenagers burst through the doors as a DJ set up in the corner of the venue room, and I felt my shoulders tense in anticipation. Then I heard it.

  “Dev?”

  Christ. Straightening, I caught the eye of a couple of kids from school. We weren’t close friends or anything, but they knew me, and they were obviously wondering what I was doing. Working wasn’t heinous; most of my classmates had part-time jobs. It was the fact I would be serving at a party I had been invited to that was embarrassing. Nobody knew much about what I did outside of school, and I liked keeping it that way. Guess that was blown out of the water.

  I spent the next embarrassing hour fielding comments and questions
from belligerent classmates. Turned out the party had been a bit of a big deal after all. And I could have avoided the entire fiasco if only I had been paying attention when Shauna and the rest had been chatting about it.

  I managed to skip out of the event room and back into the neighbouring upstairs bar when Deco, Shauna, Maisy, and a couple of others turned up. Peeking out, I waited for Deco to stand up to go and get everyone drinks, and then I hid in the bathroom until I felt sure he was gone.

  With sweat dripping down my back, I tried to cool myself down until I heard a tell-tale cackle outside the bathroom door. Maisy. I ran into a stall, unable to face them yet, and hid like a coward again.

  “I can’t believe Deco actually brought a date,” Maisy said. “What was he thinking?”

  “Yeah, well, it isn’t like Dev gives a shit about him,” Shauna said with a laugh.

  “It isn’t right,” Maisy insisted.

  “What does she expect to happen? If you’re gonna be a frigid ice queen, your fella’s eyes are gonna wander.”

  She sounded drunk already, but I got mad. Cheeks flaming, nostrils enlarging, ready to kill someone kind of mad. To be humiliated? To be gossiped about? And all while I was stuck wearing an embarrassingly small uniform because my usual one was covered in my alco mother’s vomit? No. No freaking way.

  I barged out of the bathroom, enjoying the way Shauna’s face paled. Maisy covered her mouth, hiding the smile I could see in her eyes. I had a feeling she knew I was in the bathroom all along. Bitch.

  “I expect to be able to trust people who call themselves my friends,” I said coldly.

  “Wait, Dev. I didn’t mean…” Shauna fell silent under my glare.

  “Whatever. I have work to do.” I felt better. Stronger. Ready to face everyone at last. I was Devlin O’Mara. Nothing scared me.

  I brushed past a crowd of people at the bar, including a confused looking Base, and stalked the room until I saw Deco and his date. I knew her. She was in the year below us. Tiny body, big hair. Keeping them in my sights and knowing full well that the tables were silencing as I passed them, I made my way to my so-called boyfriend.

  He didn’t even see me. He was too busy whispering in her ear and smiling when she laughed like a hyena at his stupid jokes. I knew they were stupid. I had heard them all before.

  I picked up his full pint of beer. “Can I take this?” I asked in a sweet voice before dumping it over his crotch. “Whoops.”

  He jumped to his feet, ready to rip into me. Then he met my wry expression, and his eyes widened in shock. Subdued giggles rippled across the room.

  “Bit old for accidents,” I said, still smiling. Then I cast my gaze on the trembling girl beside him. She had a deer in headlights look on her face, and I actually felt sorry for her.

  “You can probably do better,” I told her, and she nodded slowly.

  “Dev, wait,” Deco said, jumping over the table to follow me to the bar.

  “Unless you want to get hauled out by a 6ft 2 ex-army bouncer, I’d get back into your seat and stay there,” I snapped at him, not even looking his way. He stopped following me. More’s the pity. I would have enjoyed watching Tom sling him out on his ear.

  I left the party room and leaned against the wall next to the bar, struggling to catch my breath. Confrontations came easily to me; dealing with the consequences was the hard part. I should have known better than to trust anyone to be loyal to me, but I hadn’t imagined my hands would shake this much when I challenged Deco.

  I closed my eyes and took a couple of shaky breaths, hoping my heart would stop racing soon.

  “He deserved that,” said a voice close to me.

  I opened my eyes to glare at Base, annoyed he had witnessed my weakness. “You would know.”

  He flinched, shrugged, and walked away. I gazed after him, wishing for… something.

  “Hey, slacker. Collect some glasses, please,” Franco called out to me, his forehead shiny with sweat.

  Gathering myself together, I faced the crowd again, this time looking no one in the eye. The atmosphere had changed, and everyone was on edge. I felt sorry for the birthday kid; his party had pretty much died.

  But as more drink was ingested by anyone who was over eighteen, as well as the younger ones with fake IDs, the tension dissipated, and when the DJ played a popular dance song, most of them were on their feet on the dance floor, leaving the tables mostly clear for me to collect glasses and wipe up spills.

  Carrying two handfuls of stacked glasses, I hurried back to the bar and caught Franco trying to pass a shot to Aoife. I wouldn’t have put it past him to slip something into it.

  “She’s under eighteen, you idiot.”

  He scowled at me. “Dry shite.”

  “Get Base to pick up your drinks from now on,” I whispered to Aoife. She nodded gratefully, glad for the chance to leave. She was too nice; she needed to learn how to say no to people.

  The rest of the night passed by quickly enough in a stream of sweat, slurring drunks, and arguments. I didn’t need to call Tom up, but I was glad when the night was pretty much over, and he came up anyway to kick the stragglers out.

  “Time to clear out, ladies and gents,” his deep voice called out. Most people had already left, but a couple of persistent groups remained to sup the last of their drinks. Too many of them had ordered triples on last call. The DJ was long gone, probably downstairs having a late drink with Mark, and I was busy cleaning up the mess. The people I knew were unbelievably filthy. Aoife offered to help, but I waved her off. It was my job. And a shitty job it was, too. At least on nights like that. No tips.

  “Can you get me a glass of water?” a voice behind me asked.

  “Bar’s closed,” I said without looking, shaking out yet another black bin bag.

  “Just some tap water will do. Please.”

  “Fine,” I said, dropping the bag and turning to look at the customer. I stopped short as I saw the boy who had been outside my school. Up close, his eyes were the closest to black I had ever seen which was an odd contrast with his blond hair. His mouth was wide, his jaws almost concave, and his skin so thin that I could see lines underneath the surface, but the colour seemed odd somehow.

  “You,” I blurted, unable to take my eyes off him.

  “Water?” he reminded me.

  I rolled my eyes and went to get him a glass of water, ignoring Franco’s blatant flirting with Shauna. When I handed the glass to the customer, he didn’t drink it, but he handed me a fifty euro note.

  “Tap water’s free.” I shoved the note back at him, recoiling from the coldness of his hand.

  “Then keep the change,” he said in a low voice, never taking his eyes from mine.

  “No, thanks,” I said firmly. “Water’s free.”

  He looked surprised, but he smiled and slipped his hand into my front pocket, uncomfortably close to my crotch. I slapped his face, hiding how painful it was to hit him, and glared at him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  He grinned, a devilish grin, and swept away, leaving the water on the closest table.

  “What an absolute tosser,” I muttered to myself. It was only when I got home that I realised the money was in my pocket.