Ash Davis is playing tonight, and all of our customers want to cheer on the hometown hero.
I’d love to tell people that I went to the same high school as he did. I want to tell people my best friend is his fiancée’s little sister, but I keep my mouth shut. Most likely no one would believe me, so what’s the point?
Instead, I bask in the glory that is Ash’s local fan club.
At the top of the fourth quarter, Hayden and Gracie walk in, ordering a late dinner. They beckon me over to their table when they see me, and I go to them, telling my manager as I walk by her that I’m taking a quick break.
“Go for it,” Donna says. “You’ve been on your feet all night.”
I gladly settle into the booth seat next to Gracie, smiling at Hayden who’s sitting in a chair across from us. “What are you guys doing here? It’s Thursday Night Football.”
“I knew the restaurant would be packed with guys, so here I am,” Gracie says with a dazzling smile, just before she scans the room.
Hayden laughs. “I’m her wing-woman. We tried to get Tony to come with us, but his eyes were glued to the television at his place. Said he couldn’t risk leaving. The score could change and he’d miss something.”
“They have a pretty solid lead,” I say, glancing at one of the TVs to check the score.
“He would’ve killed my vibe,” Gracie says. “I don’t need Tony here cockblocking me.”
I laugh. She’s probably right.
“Enough about cockblocking and football,” Hayden says, leaning across the table, her gaze never leaving me. “We haven’t talked. Like, really talked in days. We need to know—what’s up with you and Jackson?”
“We’re good,” I say, barely containing the smile that wants to stretch across my face.
That is the understatement of the year. We had the best weekend ever. This week has been amazing too. Unfortunately, he left early for the away game this weekend. Had some plans come up, he explained, being very mysterious.
I have no idea exactly what’s going on, but when I pressed him about it, he said he’d be able to explain everything to me when he gets back Sunday.
Eeep, I hate secrets, but this isn’t a bad one. He seemed a little excited. He couldn’t stop smiling.
And last night, when he stayed over with me, he kept me up for half the night, driving me out of my mind every time he touched me. It’s getting better and better between us. I miss him so much now that he’s gone. There’s a hole in my heart just knowing how far away he is from me right now.
I hate it.
But I love him. So much, it’s overwhelming.
Does he feel the same way? Probably not as intensely as I do…
“Good?” Hayden’s brows shoot up. “That’s it? That’s all we get?”
“We need more details,” Gracie adds.
I laugh and launch into a story about the weekend first, and everything we did—without sharing many details at all, much to their disappointment. I wrap up that particular story with Jackson asking me to be his girlfriend.
“Aw, so you two are official already?” Hayden clasps her hands together in front of her chest. “That’s so sweet.”
“And quick,” Gracie says. “I’m surprised he moved so fast. I guess you two wanted the label?”
“There’s nothing wrong with labels,” Hayden says in defense of me, before I can even speak.
“Says the woman who claims relationships are bogus and didn’t want to call Tony her boyfriend at first,” Gracie throws back at her. She glances my way. “I have zero issues with you two moving fast. I’m the queen of moving fast.”
“You’re also the queen of can’t commit,” Hayden points out.
“Stop it, both of you,” I tell them. They love nothing more but giving each other crap. “Let’s talk about me for a few more minutes.”
“Ah, I love this. Ellie standing up for herself, and getting demanding,” Hayden says, sitting up straighter. “Tell us—how is Jackson in bed?”
“I’m sure he’s perfection,” Gracie says, lifting a single brow. “I’m also positive he has a giant dick.”
“You guys.” My cheeks go hot. “He’s…good. With his hands. With all of his parts, really. But don’t forget, I have nothing else to compare him to.”
“I doubt he’s bad at sex, so we won’t focus on that.” Gracie laughs. “And how’s the equipment?”
“Sufficient,” is all I can manage before they both burst out laughing.
I laugh with them too. It feels good to talk to them about this. To laugh and joke with my friends and savor the fact that I actually have a boyfriend. One who seems really into me.
Finally.
We rehash everything that happened during the weekend, including Jackson’s concert. The song he wrote that everyone figured out was about me. It was fairly obvious from the way he sang it right to me.
“Oh my God, I never did hear what happened with the record company people,” Hayden says. “Did they make an offer or whatever?”
“Oh yeah.” I wince. This is a touchy subject, one that Jackson still doesn’t want to talk about. “They um…they seemed more interested in Cupid’s Bow, according to Jackson. They set up a meeting with them and everything.”
“Get the heck out,” Gracie breathes, her eyes wide. “No kidding? They were pretty awesome.”
“I think Jackson was disappointed they didn’t even want to sit down and talk to him,” I say.
“But why?” Hayden frowns. “He’s turned down every record deal that’s been made to him so far. I thought he wanted to keep his freedom—his musical integrity or some such bullshit like that.”
Gracie giggles, but I don’t. I’m hurting for him, just like he’s hurting over this.
Not that he likes to talk about it.
“I think he really liked Evergreen Records and assumed they’d offer him a contract. When they didn’t—when they showed interest in the group he asked to open for him instead of him—I think it crushed him. He doesn’t want to talk about it though. He’s pretending it never happened, but I think he’s down about it.”
“That sucks,” Gracie says, frowning. “I feel bad for him.”
“So do I,” Hayden adds. “But he’ll come around. At least he has you there supporting him.”
“True.” He’s always had me supporting him.
“Hey, whatever happened to Carson? Did you tell him you were with Jackson now? Of course you did. Did he take it well?” Gracie asks, her brows shooting up. “He’s such a sweetheart. Cute too.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Hayden warns her.
Gracie rolls her eyes in response.
“I talked to him Monday after class. I told him I thought we were better off as friends,” I explain, my heart momentarily heavy. I saw the disappointment flicker in Carson’s gaze when I talked to him, and I felt bad, but it was the right decision. I’m not interested in him like that, and it wasn’t fair of me to use him like I did, even though that’s not what I meant to do. He’s a good guy. He deserves someone who’s totally into him.
I’m not that person.
“Did he take it okay?” Gracie asks.
“I know he was disappointed, but he’ll get over it. There are so many girls on this campus for him to choose from,” I say.
“But you’re special, Ellie.” Hayden smiles at me. “You care so much. About everyone.”
“I care too much,” I stress, sighing as I lean back against the seat. “I should go back to work.”
The crowds coming in have slowly diminished, but the restaurant itself is pretty full, despite the late hour. Meaning I have lots of tables to clean still, and plenty of customers to help.
After I hug the girls and tell them to enjoy their dinner, I make the rounds before heading outside to the patio to clear off a few tables. It’s starting to cool down more in the evenings, and the breeze sweeping through the outside area is chilly. I shiver, dumping all the dirty dishes in a tub so I can take them back t
o the kitchen, not bothering to check on who’s sitting outside.
That’s my first mistake.
“Hey cutie.”
I ignore the slurring male voice, thinking he must be talking to someone else.
“Sweetheart. Come over here,” the same voice asks a minute later. There’s pounding on the table, making the glasses rattle. “I have a question for you.”
Okay. Pretty sure he’s talking to me.
I glance over my shoulder to see an older guy sitting alone, a few empty beer glasses sitting on the table in front of him. He tips to the side on his stool, almost falling off of it, and I’d make the assumption that he’s pretty drunk.
Ugh.
“Can I help you?” I ask, pasting a polite smile on my face.
“Damn, you’re pretty.” He blinks at me, as if he’s trying to bring me into focus. “Wanna come sit with me? Chat for a few?”
“I’m working,” I say, my voice flat. God, I really hate creepers.
“Yeah, whatever. Think you’re too good for me, don’t ya? Get me another one of these then.” He waves his index finger at the empty glasses. “And hurry. I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes for that asshole bartender of yours to bring me my order.”
“Give me a few minutes,” I tell him as I quickly wipe down the table I’m standing next to.
“I’ve already been waiting. Knowing that guy, he’s gonna come over here and kick me out. It’s happened before.” He barks out a laugh, then burps.
Ew.
With my smile frozen in place, I tell him, “I’ll be right back.”
I hurriedly leave the patio area, bursting through the double doors into the restaurant and stopping by the bar to let Chuck know the guy outside wants another beer.
“The dark-haired guy sitting alone? Yeah, he already tried ordering another beer, and I told him no.” Chuck shakes his head, his expression disgusted. “I refuse to serve him. He’s drunk as hell and belligerent. Had to kick him out of here myself last week. He was picking fights with other customers.”
“Oh.” My smile fades. “Well, maybe you could go tell him that you won’t serve him? I think he’s expecting you.”
“Ha, I bet he is. I’d be glad to.” Chuck wipes his hands on a clean, dry rag before tossing it down. “And if I have to kick him out again, so be it. We don’t get a lot of asshole drunks in this place, but he more than makes up for it.”
“Thank you, Chuck, for taking care of him,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
By the time I’m coming out of the kitchen, Chuck and another guy that works here are personally escorting the rowdy customer out of the restaurant, each of them holding one side of the guy, practically dragging him out. The customer is grumbling and carrying on, and when he spots me, he points a finger straight at me, his face bright red.
“It’s all your fault they’re kicking me out! You bitch!”
Everyone inside the building goes quiet, swiftly looking from him to me.
Oh God. This is so embarrassing.
“Come on, jackass,” Chuck mutters, jerking hard on the man’s arm. “You’re out of here.”
“I’m a paying customer! You can’t kick me out!” the man yells. “Don’t listen to that little bitch! I’m not drunk!”
I never said he was, though it’s fairly obvious. That was all Chuck.
Donna comes to stand beside me, slinging her arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go to the back.”
I follow behind her to her office, feeling numb. I can’t believe that guy made such a scene. Worse, I can’t believe he dragged me into it, when I had nothing to do with what was happening.
Such a jerk.
“Are you okay?” Donna asks once we’re tucked away in her tiny office. “Do we need to write up a report about this guy?”
“What? No, I don’t think so. He’s just really drunk,” I tell her.
“Yeah well, he’s caused trouble here before. Tried to grab one of the girls last week. Chuck tossed him out, but he wouldn’t leave, so I had to call the cops,” Donna explains.
“Oh no.” At least he didn’t try to grab me. “He only said some stuff to me. Nothing too crazy.”
“He did call you a bitch,” Donna reminds me with a sigh as she walks over to her filing cabinet and pulls open the top drawer. “I’m going to have you fill this form out, just to document what happened. That way we’re all covered.”
“Covered for what?” I ask as she hands me a form.
“In case he decides to come back again. He’s a frequent customer, but I’m banning him. We need documentation,” Donna explains.
I start to fill it out. Gladly.
I’m leaving the restaurant along with Donna and a couple of other coworkers. Chuck already took off after surveilling the parking lot, looking for our troublesome customer. Once he declared the coast was clear, Donna let him go.
My car starts up with ease—it’s always a little nerve-wracking since the alternator went out. I still don’t quite trust it. I wave at Donna, who zooms out of the parking lot as if her tail is on fire.
I’m sure she’s tired. We all are. It was an extra busy night.
I put the car into reverse and start to back out of the parking spot when the engine stalls. Sputters.
Dies.
My heart squeezes as I put the gear into park, the car lurching forward. I attempt to start the car, the engine trying, but it doesn’t quite make it. I sit there for a moment, thinking about what I should do. Who I can call.
God, this stupid car. I absolutely cannot afford for it to go out on me again. I’m already in debt to Jackson, and whatever else is wrong with it, it’s probably a really expensive fix. I wish I could get a new car, but that costs money.
Money I don’t have. I’m only eighteen. I’m sure I wouldn’t qualify for a loan, and it’s not like I can afford a monthly car payment. My budget is pretty tight already.
Telling myself I don’t need to send myself into a worse panic, I pull out my phone and bring up my messages, hating that Jackson isn’t here to come to my rescue. He’d drop whatever and come running. I know he would.
But he’s gone. I can’t rely on him all the time.
I’m just starting to type out a text to Hayden when there’s a rapid-fire knock on my window, startling me so badly, my phone slips from my fingers, falling onto the floorboard. I glance up to find the drunk customer standing there, an evil grin on his face.
“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Car trouble?” he yells, his voice muffled.
Shit, shit, shit! What is he doing here?
I reach down, scared to take my eyes off of him, my hand scrambling, in search of my phone, but I can’t find it. It must’ve slipped under the seat and out of my reach.
He bangs on the window again, harder this time. “You’re a bitch, you know that? Ruining my good time. Why are you all bitches, huh? What the fuck do you want from us?”
He’s angry at women in general, I guess. Lucky me.
And oh God, he looks furious. His face is red, his eyes wide and blazing. Has he been hanging around here all this time? Why didn’t Chuck spot him? Was he hiding behind a tree? There are no other cars in the lot. This is why we felt safe. Why Donna let Chuck and the other guys who work with us leave earlier.
Big mistake. Huge.
“Go away!” I scream at the guy, which only infuriates him. I take my gaze away from him long enough to try and grab my phone, my fingers curling around it. Finally.
I pull it out, finishing the sentence I started to Hayden.
Me: Hey! Can you come get me at the restaurant? My car broke down again and there’s a guy
The man reaches for the door handle, lifting up on it. My automatic locks don’t work all the time, and the door actually swings open, letting in a gust of cool air and an overwhelming scent of beer mixed with sweat.
And the man. The man barges into my car, lunging for me. I scream as loud as I can, the phone falling from my hand again. I hear it land with a cl
atter, and I have no idea if the text actually sent to Hayden or not. I try to fight him off, struggling beneath him, but he’s so heavy. And smelly.
He grabs hold of my shoulders, giving me a shake. “Shut up! Quit screaming!”
I scream even louder. I have no idea what he wants from me, but I’m terrified. He lets me go to smack me across the face with his fist, so hard my ears ring and the scream dies in my throat.
“That’s it. Be a good girl. Don’t yell,” he tells me, his voice calmer. Quieter. “Be nice, and I’ll be nice too.”
Anger and a massive dose of adrenaline floods me, drowning out the fear. Until all I can think about is hurting him. Destroying him. It’s the only way I’ll get out of this alive, I think.
I’m in pure fight or flight mode.
I’m ready to fight.
Ignoring the pain in my throbbing face, I concentrate on bending my knee beneath him, my foot falling to the floorboard, giving me good leverage. I aim straight at his crotch and with a grunt, I swing up my knee with all my might.
Nailing him right in the balls.
“Fuck! You bitch!” he groans, tipping over in agony with so much force his forehead smashes into my nose.
Plunging me into complete darkness.
Thirty-One
Jackson
I didn’t want to tell Ellie why I came to Los Angeles a day before I had to, and without the team. I had to get special permission from the school, and the coaches gave their approval after I explained what my plans were.
Rick at Evergreen left me a voicemail Wednesday morning, saying he felt like an ass that they never scheduled a meeting with me. They wanted to talk. They’re interested in me, he said. Could I come to Los Angeles in the next few days?
I played that message over and over, excitement rising within me. I didn’t want to jinx anything so I told no one about this meeting I was able to schedule. Not even Ellie.
I wanted to ensure I could make this happen first, before I told people. I didn’t want to let them down—didn’t want to let myself down either.
I’m going to his office first thing. I couldn’t sleep last night. I was too excited, too nervous, too agitated, all of it. So I gave up trying and stayed up till four in the morning writing a song.
The Sophomore Page 27