Rebel Love

by Tess Oliver

"Don't ever take it off. I'll be checking your keys from time to time, and I'll be expecting to see it."

  I worked the hook around the key ring and held it up for her to see. "There it is and there it will stay. Even after I buy that black Ferrari with the money from my first concert tour."

  "I love your optimism, Joshua Hardy. And I'm counting on you making it to the big time because then I can tell everyone I know a rock and roll mega star."

  "So, two things. I have to keep this on my keys at all times, and I have to become a mega rock musician."

  "Right." She leaned back again. Her long legs kicked back and forth. "Why are you so much easier to talk to than other guys? Boys my age are like drooling idiots. Emily says it's because you are much more mature than other guys."

  "Is that what she says?"

  "Yep. And trust me, that's high praise from Em. Of course, you know her just about as well as I do. Even better, since you guys make out." Her cheeks blushed, but this time it wasn't from the sun. "Ooh gross, I can't believe I just said that." She waved her hands in front of her face. "I'm erasing those last disgusting words. Do you believe in the boogeyman?" she asked with an abrupt and welcome topic change.

  "You mean the guy who hides in your closet or under the bed when you're a kid? Do I believe in him? Can't say I ever found any monster in my closet." I leaned against the car and looked up at her green eyes that were surrounded by a curtain of black lashes. Suddenly, it occurred to me that she wasn't just going to be pretty, she was going to be stunning. But talking to Rebecca, she was still just an innocent kid, which was probably why it was so much fun to talk to her. She was always happy and funny and totally off the wall. And she was one of the few people who was always excited and enthusiastic about my music career. "I guess we all have our form of boogeyman, Rebel."

  She stopped swinging her legs, and some of the sparkle faded from her eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "Just that everybody has something they're afraid of. Your sister Emily freaks out about clowns, so I guess guys in white makeup wearing red noses are her boogeyman."

  She crossed her arms. "What are you afraid of?" Something had darkened her mood, but I couldn’t figure out what.

  "I guess I'm afraid of losing my dad. His liver isn't working on all cylinders anymore, but he hasn't cut down on the whiskey."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Josh."

  I nodded, no longer able to respond. That was another thing about Rebecca. She was always genuine.

  She took a deep breath. "Well, my boogeyman is different."

  The front door opened and shut, and Emily stepped out onto the porch. I looked back up at Rebecca. "Why is that? No clown makeup?"

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. Her bottom lip trembled so slightly, I was almost convinced I'd imagined it.

  I turned to face her. "Rebecca?"

  "He's just extra scary, that's all." She pushed her smile back up and spoke airily to Emily. "That red and white striped dress makes you look like a candy cane."

  Emily stopped and tilted her head to let her know she didn't appreciate the fashion critique. I took Emily's hand and pulled her closer. "She's right." I leaned my mouth close to her ear. "You look lickable."

  Emily pushed me back. "Jeesh, your mind always goes straight to dirty." She made a point of looking at my shirt. "Speaking of dirty. Why the heck are you wearing that crummy old t-shirt?"

  Rebecca's foot swung like a pendulum over the car door as she nudged me with her foot for a silent 'told you so'.

  "And I thought you were going to finally cut your hair," Emily continued. "It's getting longer than mine."

  "He can't cut it, Em. He's a musician. Long hair goes with the bass guitar. Besides, I think it's cool."

  I tilted a sideways wink up at her. "Yeah, Rebel thinks it's cool."

  Emily crossed her arms and worked hard to look angry, but she was just too darn cute to look mad. "This party is a big deal. And Mindy is already mad at me for beating her out as head cheerleader. She'll be extra mad if you show up in a faded t-shirt."

  I pointed over my shoulder. "I could go back home and finish my video game, and you could go to the party without me."

  "Oh sure, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

  "Uh, yeah, I think that's what he just said," Rebecca piped up.

  Emily's scorn shifted to her sister. "Don't you have some place to be, Becca?"

  "I guess I'll be on my way." Rebecca hopped off the car.

  A loud whistle shot up from the street. Two boys on skateboards stopped in front of the house. "Hey, Becca, want to come hang out at the park?"

  "I guess." Rebecca leaned toward me as she walked past. "Stay strong, buddy. Don't let your guard down around the cheerleader zombies. They will eat you up and spit you out like a cheer. Pom poms waving and all."

  "I'll stay alert." We bumped fists.

  I watched as Rebecca walked to the curb to meet her two friends. One looked like a decent guy, the kind of guy who would lend you a buck for lunch if you forgot your money. The other guy looked like the kind who spent third period out behind the gym smoking a joint or making out with a girl. The guys held their boards under their arms and the three of them headed down the sidewalk toward the park. Rebecca was a good two inches taller than both of them.

  "Do you know that guy with the chain on his pocket?" I asked Emily. "He looks kind of sketchy."

  "That's Zach. I think Becca likes him."

  We walked around to the passenger side, so I could open the door for her. "That guy? Shit."

  Emily laughed as she sat in the car. "She said she kind of likes Zach because he's a lot like you." She grinned up at me as I closed the passenger door.

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca

  In the solitude of my office cubicle, I swished around on Google to find anything of value on Vandermeer. The article that talked about his early release was written in yesterday's local paper, the free one that had been jammed into the mail slot on the office door. I had no idea why my first instinct was to call Joshua, but just hearing his voice seemed to calm me down some. I knew that if I heard him call me by the nickname he had created just for me, it would bring me back to earth and help me avoid a total meltdown. And while the deep, soothing sound of Joshua's voice had been just the elixir I needed, I hadn't stopped thinking about him all morning. Not that I'd ever really stopped thinking about him. Joshua Hardy was entwined around every important moment in my life, both the good and the horribly, terribly bad.

  I had plenty of work to do, and the boss was a Cruella Deville doppelganger without the cool two-toned hair. But I was determined to find something about Vandermeer that might come in handy. I didn't even know what handy meant in this situation, but I figured I'd know it when I saw it.

  I clicked through several other articles about someone else with the same last name, only to find they were talking about Trent senior. There was a senior. That meant there were two Trent Vandermeers in the world. Apparently Dad Vandermeer was a big shot in life insurance policies. How appropriate.

  A shadow dropped over my desk and keyboard. The strong scent of aftershave drifted over my monitor.

  I didn't look up from my task. "Dustin, you know I hate it when you stare at me over the cubicle partition."

  "All right, I won't stare long. I just thought maybe you'd want to go out and get a few drinks after work."

  I leaned back on my chair and looked up at him. Dustin had that kind of baby face that some women found attractive. He was a nice enough guy but just a little too needy for my taste. "When have I ever said yes to that?"

  "Never." He took off his glasses, something he usually did before he spoke to me. Although I found him much more attractive with them on. "But I think I deserve points for persistence."

  "You do." I leaned forward and rested my hands in front of my keyboard. "Look, Dustin, you're a great guy, but I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I just got out of a less than stellar relationship, and—"

  The fl
imsy cubicle walls shook when Dustin lifted his hand above it to point at me. "Jack was wrong for you in every way. And if I ever get my hands on him, I will give it to him good."

  I couldn't hold back a smile. Jack was a good five inches taller and twice the width of Dustin, but something told me he would make good on his word. "Thank you, Dustin. You're a good friend. But Jack won't be showing up any time soon. He moved to Michigan for a new job. Thank goodness." If there was one thing that was consistent in my otherwise helter-skelter life, it was my ability to pick the absolute worst men. And here I was again, warding off invitations from Dustin, a guy who would probably shower me with gifts, overwhelm me with flowers and always treat me like a princess. But in this case, I was absolutely wrong for him. He needed someone deserving of his faithful admiration and that sure as heck wasn't me.

  "Uh oh, here comes the She-dragon." Dustin sat back down in his chair. Again, the wall shook and the postcard my dad sent from Venice escaped its pushpin and floated down to my desk.

  I clicked out of the non-work related articles and clicked open the data files. Seconds later, the fire breather was standing over me, heating up the small space. "Rebecca, I need you to make some of those bar graphs and charts for this week's numbers." I turned and looked at the files clutched in her blood red fingernails. All she needed was the coat made out of Dalmatian fur. Dustin always warned me never to look Irene directly in the eye or risk death by turning to stone. His comment came back to me, and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. She really was a horrid boss to work for, but the job kept me from living in a cardboard box on the street. Not that my apartment was much better than a refrigerator carton, but at least it had running water.

  I took the files from her hand. "When do you need these by?"

  Her laugh even made the plant on my desk shiver with revulsion. "The meeting is in one hour, and make them look pretty. Oh, and I'll need twenty copies, collated and placed in some of those plastic sleeves we have in the supply closet. Don't mess up. I want to impress the board members."

  Her heels clacked over the tile. She glanced into Dustin's cubicle and then continued down the hallway to her office.

  "So she'll go in there with my charts and pretend she made them. She is such a creep."

  Dustin's chair squeaked as he rolled out of his cubicle and looked around the wall at me. "Did you avoid eye contact? Wait. I see you are not a pillar of stone, so you obeyed my warning."

  The rattling but welcome wheels of the muffin cart sounded behind me. I leaned my head out to make sure Kate was coming up our aisle first. Otherwise the banana nut muffins would be gone. They were by far her best.

  Kate's eyes shot toward us, or I should say shot toward Dustin. Kate had made no small attempt to let Dustin know she had a thing for him, but the poor guy was just completely clueless when it came to women. Kate had those kind of clear blue eyes that looked like the blue on a magnificent stained glass window. And they sparkled whenever she pushed her wobbly cart toward Dustin.

  "Morning," she said with a special smile for Dustin. He was too absorbed in his muffin decision to notice.

  I reached for a banana nut muffin and handed Kate my money.

  "Hmm." Dustin tapped his chin. "I love the bran raisin but then I have problems all afternoon. If you get catch my drift."

  Kate laughed politely. He didn't have to work too hard to get a positive reaction from her. I shook my head thinking the poor guy needed some kind of cool bro type mentor just to give him a little more edge in the world of flirtation.

  Kate took longer than needed to count back his change. In the meantime, we were garnering some pretty nasty glares from the cubicles across the way.

  Kate wrapped her hands around the cart handle. "Well, I guess I better head over to the other side before I start an office war."

  Dustin didn't have the courtesy to return a laugh, even though her comment was far funnier. He really was a dolt.

  Kate moved on with her baked goods. And just before Dustin slipped back into his cubicle, I landed a fist punch on his arm.

  "Ouch. What the heck was that for? You got your damn banana nut muffin."

  I used my feet to pull my chair closer to him. "Kate is crazy about you. Why don't you ask her out?"

  "Kate?" His nose moved side to side, shifting his glasses with it as he glanced over at her. "Nah, she's not my type."

  "You mean cute, productive, a good baker and charming? You're right. What was I thinking?"

  I slid back into my office space.

  Dustin hung his head around. "You really think she likes me?"

  "As someone experienced at having a long, unrequited crush on someone, yes, I'd say absolutely yes."

  I'd used the wrong analogy it seemed, and suddenly, his interest switched away from Kate and over to my crush. "You, Rebecca Novak had an unrequited crush on someone? Rebecca Novak, the woman who makes men from other offices run in their expensive loafers just to share an elevator ride. The woman who had to work in the cluttered copy room because the air conditioner service men couldn't concentrate on their job with her sitting at her desk. The woman who nearly caused a window washer to plunge to his death just by walking past the damn window."

  I pointed at him. "Total exaggeration. That did not happen. He merely slipped, and it just happened to coincide with me walking to the office supply closet."

  "Right. So spill. Who is it? Wait. Is it me?" He closed his eyes and lifted his face in a silent prayer.

  "It's not you and it doesn't matter. I was just using it as a way to prove to you that Kate likes you. Now don't be an idiot, and ask her out." I rolled back to my desk and tucked my muffin aside for break. I stared down at the manila folder with Irene's angry looking handwriting scratched across a sticky note.

  I pushed it aside and typed in a few more keywords with the name Trent Vandermeer. The top entry was about the opening of a new bar and grill. I clicked on it, and there staring back at me from a small, semi-blurry picture was the supreme asshole himself. He was smiling and pointing up to a sign above his head that read Vander's Place. Not only was he out of jail, he was having a good old successful time of it. There was nothing right about that. Nothing. I scrolled down farther. The grand opening was a week away, and they were still looking for servers. "Apply in person Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from three to six."

  I grabbed my notepad and wrote down the address and information. I had some experience waiting tables in a sports bar.

  Irene's nasal tone sounded down the hallway as she berated her assistant about some nonsense. I pulled the notepaper off and shoved it into my purse. Tomorrow was Thursday. I would go to the interview and try to get hired. I had no idea where I would go from there, but there was just no way a jerk like Trent Vandermeer got to trot around town looking happy and starting up damn businesses. First step was to land the job. The rest of the scheme to ruin the man would eventually fall into place . . . hopefully.

  Chapter 4

  Joshua

  I pushed the dolly filled with boxes of wine in through the back door. I had to stop half way to shake out the usual pain and stiffness in my right hand. I rubbed the knuckles, feeling the ridges of scars left behind by the pins doctors had used to put my fingers back into some form or order.

  Dylan was having a conversation with someone, working hard to be charming. The answer was a frilly giggle. We weren't open for hours, so he must have brought his latest fling to work. I had no idea who he was seeing at the moment because he moved on quickly from one girl to the next. Sometimes I never even got a chance to learn their names.

  Dylan was proof that some people managed to drag their high school glory days right on through life. Dylan was a senior the year I started high school. He was the proverbial big man on campus, both in size and popularity stature. He was the guy who could silence every female conversation just by walking past. And the guys' heads turned just as much. Everyone wanted to see what Dylan Parson was up to, what he was wearing, what lucky girl was
on his arm. And as much as I hated to admit it, back then I looked up to him too, as if he had glowing stars circling around his thick skull. He also did a pretty good job of being just a big enough asshole to solidify his top senior man status. Apparently, you had to be somewhat of a jackass to pull it off just right. The only reason he'd paid a freshman like me any attention at all was because I was dating his sister. Otherwise, I would have faded into non-existence just like all his other worshippers. Oddly enough, we grew into good friends.

  I rolled the dolly to the wine storage rack and started pushing the bottles into their slots.

  "Dylan wants the receipt for the wine."

  I spun around quickly. Penny, our newest server, was standing behind me wearing her teenage smile and a skimpy pair of jean cut-offs. I'd fought against hiring her because I thought she was just too young and inexperienced, but Dylan wouldn't let it go. For a second, the sweet innocence of Penny's wide eyes reminded me of a sixteen-year-old Rebecca. I still hadn't gotten her out of my mind since the phone call.

  "Right." I pulled the receipt from my pocket and handed it to her. "I didn't expect to see you in here so early."

  She tilted her head enough to swish her long blonde ponytail sideways. "Dylan said he needed the help with inventory, and I was glad to get a few extra hours. I'm saving for a car." She lifted the receipt. "Thanks. I'll walk this over to Dylan."

  Inventory, my ass. It was Wednesday, which meant only a light load of stock to put away. I turned back to my task. I dragged a razor blade across the tape on the next box and plucked out two bottles.

  "Hey, bro," Dylan said from behind. "Penny and I are hungry. We're going to pick up some sandwiches. What do you want?"

  I shoved the wine into its slot on the rack and turned around. "Why the hell did you need help with inventory?"

  Dylan's gaze shot across the room to make sure Penny wasn't around. "The kid needed the hours, so I told her she could come help me." Dylan's hair had been thinning some, and he'd taken to shaving it close to his head to camouflage the baldness. The close shaved dark blond hair paired with his deep set eyes made him look mean. But that didn't seem to stop the women from latching onto him.