Unbelonging

by Sabrina Stark

  "Damn," Crew Cut Guy said. "Guess the show's over."

  I studied Lawton across the parking lot, relishing the chance to observe him, unencumbered by the bounds of decency or politeness. I took an obscene amount of comfort in the fact I was just one of many, a face in the crowd. I felt like a Peeping Tom, but couldn’t bring myself to care.

  Ignoring crowds of wannabe friends and well-wishers, Lawton turned and sauntered toward his car, the blondes close on his heels. Silently, he opened the passenger door and waited as they climbed inside.

  After their long legs disappeared into the vehicle, Lawton shut the car door and walked around to the driver's side door. He opened it, slid into the driver's seat, and shut the door behind him. A moment later, he roared out of the parking lot, leaving the crowd staring after him.

  From somewhere off to my right, I heard a male voice say, "Hey, Chloe!"

  Standing in the tall pickup bed, I looked down and saw Keith staring up at me, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

  Past Keith, in the crowd, I saw both busboys, half the cooks and at least two other waitresses. Why Keith chose to zero in on me, I had no idea. "Watching the fight," I said.

  Like he didn't know.

  "Yeah?" His scowl deepened. "Don’t you have work to do?"

  Obviously, I wasn't the only employee out here. So why was I the only one getting in trouble? Suddenly, I was so tired of Keith's crap. "Don't you?" I said.

  His jaw tightened. "I'm not a customer," he said. "So don't sass me and think you're cute."

  Next to me, Crew Cut Guy spoke up. "Hey, I think she's cute." He puffed out his chest. "And I'm a customer. So I'm always right." He turned to give me a wide grin. "Right?"

  "Awwww…thanks," I said, genuinely touched.

  But on the ground, Keith didn't look nearly as pleased. A spot of color had risen to his cheeks. "Yes, well." Keith cleared his throat and looked up at the guy. "Thank you for your patronage."

  "Actually," Crew Cut said, giving me a long look, "she's more than cute. She's smokin' hot. You oughta give this girl a raise." He turned to give me another grin. "What do you think of that?"

  I laughed, embarrassed but delighted, not so much with the compliment, but for the effect it had on Keith. He was looking more unhappy with every passing moment.

  "Yeah, well," Keith muttered, straightening his tie and turning his gaze on me. "Get back inside, and we'll talk about it."

  I gave Keith a sweet smile. "Thanks, boss. I'm looking forward to it."

  I never called him boss, and I knew there wasn't going to be a raise. But the look on his face was almost reward enough.

  I turned to Crew Cut Guy. "Thanks for letting me hang out in your truck." I winked at him. "And for getting me promoted."

  I hopped down and headed back inside. Just as well. I did still have customers after all. I wouldn't be earning any tips if I spent all night in the parking lot.

  Still, I wasn't above spending way too much time looking out the window to see what was going on. By the time the lone police car had rolled into the parking lot, there wasn't much to see.

  There were only a few stragglers and Keith, who stalked over to the police car and made his complaints known, using gigantic arm gestures to emphasize whatever he was telling them.

  Whatever it was, the police didn't look too impressed.

  From what I learned later, the police weren't a big help. There'd been no property damage, nothing stolen, and other than Keith, no one had complained.

  Keith tried to press the issue of disturbing-the-peace, and since at least one of the guys – Lawton Rastor – was easy to identify, the police promised to look into it. But Keith's sullen demeanor for the remainder of the night suggested he thought this unlikely.

  What I couldn’t figure out was what started the fight in the first place. One of my customers, a tall guy with a window seat, swore he saw the other two guys jump Lawton in the parking lot, but since I didn't see it for myself, I tried to withhold judgment and not think too much about it.

  But it wasn't easy. Lawton was proving easy to think about, but hard to forget.

  Chapter 11

  The soft trilling sound made me want to throw my cellphone across the Parkers' guest room. Somehow, I'd forgotten to turn off the ringer, and no matter how soothing the sound was supposed to be, it still grated on my foggy brain.

  I glanced at the digital clock on the night stand. It was just after nine in the morning. My waitressing shift had ended only four hours ago. After driving back, walking Chucky, and taking a shower, I hadn't been sleeping nearly long enough to function like a real human being.

  Groaning, I fumbled for the phone and looked at the display.

  Shit. It was Loretta.

  For the briefest instant, I debated letting the call go to voicemail, but that wouldn't solve anything. I'd have to call her back later, and the dread of it would make it that much harder to fall back asleep. Better to get it out of the way so I could slip back into oblivion.

  I took a deep breath and hit the button. "Hello."

  "Don't tell me you're still asleep?" she said. "God, it's practically noon."

  Obviously, noon was still a few hours off, but math had never been my stepmother's strong suit. "I worked late," I said.

  "I wish I could sleep all day," Loretta said. "Must be nice."

  "Nice?" I gritted my teeth. "Yeah? Well, while you were sleeping, I was working, so I guess it all evens out then, doesn't it?"

  "There's no need to get snippy," she said.

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Snippy? I could show her snippy. But telling her off wasn't an option. My short-term satisfaction would only lead to long-term misery for my younger brother, Josh, who still lived there. Sort of.

  "Hey!" Her shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. "You didn't fall back asleep, did you?"

  "No, I'm awake." I hated that I sounded defensive, like a teenager caught smoking in the bathroom.

  "Good," she said. "Because your Dad's gotten this idea that we should all celebrate Thanksgiving together. And I'm telling you now, so you don't screw up our schedule."

  "Thanksgiving?" I mumbled. "Really? Who does he mean by all?"

  "Don't be dense," she said. "Him, you, me, Josh. Who else?"

  I didn't bother asking about Grandma. Even if she were invited, she wouldn't go. But she wasn't the only person missing from Loretta's little list.

  "What about Lauren?" I asked. Lauren was Loretta's natural daughter. She was nearly my age, but rated a lot higher than me or Josh. No way she'd be left out.

  "She might come over later," Loretta said.

  The whole thing was odd. Loretta loved to cook, but never for us. Honestly, I was surprised my Dad would suggest such a thing. Even for him, this was incredibly stupid.

  I had a pretty good idea how the day would end, with Loretta hurling insults, and maybe a couple of dishes. Dad would pretend not to notice, I'd pretend not to care, and Josh would pretend Mom hadn't left us for some washed-up racecar driver.

  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

  Unfortunately, saying no wasn't an option. Josh wouldn't have a choice. And if Josh was going to be there, I was going to be there. If nothing else, Loretta's special brand of holiday cheer would fall on my shoulders instead of his. Still, the whole thing would be a total nightmare, unless –

  "Hey, can I bring someone?" I asked on impulse.

  "Like who?" she asked.

  "I dunno," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. "A friend, or maybe a date, I guess it depends." No way I'd be subjecting any date to my crappy excuse for a family, excluding Josh, of course. But I needed to be vague.

  My plan was to beg Erika to come, if only for part of it. My Dad liked Erika a lot more than he liked me. More importantly, Loretta was intimidated by Erika's last name, which graced a string of restaurants and shopping centers in the Rochester Hills area.

  But no matter who it was, it would be bette
r than nobody. My Dad and Loretta were always a lot nicer in front of an audience. I just needed to find an audience I could trust, someone who knew my family, loved me anyway, and wouldn't blab after the fact.

  This only left Erika. If I had to beg her, I would. It wasn't just for me. It was for Josh too. She liked Josh. She'd probably do it.

  "Fine," Loretta muttered. "I guess you can bring someone."

  She didn't sound very happy about it. The fact she agreed at all was a total surprise. Obviously, she was just as eager for this little get-together as I was, which is, not eager at all. It was almost funny to think we agreed on anything.

  I wasn't used to this.

  "If you want any food, be there at noon," she said. "I'm assuming you can crawl out of bed by then?"

  Before I could answer, she hung without saying goodbye.

  Now this, I was used to.

  I was just drifting back to sleep when the doorbell rang, causing Chucky start yapping his head off from somewhere downstairs.

  With a sigh of frustration, I threw aside the covers and stumbled out of bed, making my way toward the window that overlooked the driveway. When I got there, what I saw in the driveway made me groan out loud.

  There was no mistaking the vehicle. Last night, I couldn't tell the color, but in the morning light, it was beyond obvious – neon green with a black racing stripe. Lawton Rastor was here? But why?

  And then, it hit me. He'd mentioned stopping by this morning, something about steak and eggs? I'd been positive he was joking. Apparently, he wasn't.

  Was I supposed to be flattered? What the hell? So the guy has some threesome or whatever with those two other girls, and just a few hours after shoving them out the door, he's on my doorstep wanting breakfast?

  Cripes, I wasn't even dessert, I was an afterthought. I knew one thing for sure. A guy like Lawton Rastor didn't stop by just for steak and eggs.

  I could imagine how this scene was playing out in his head. I'd greet him at the door, in full makeup, with my hair done to perfection. I'd be wearing something totally inappropriate for lounging around the house, maybe some sheer nightie or a cocktail dress. Or, if I wanted to be really subtle, I'd throw on skimpy shorts and a tank top, one that showed way too much cleavage, and the barest hint of nipple if the morning were cool enough.

  And then, when I opened the door, I'd still pretend to be surprised. All the while, everything about me would be screaming, "Screw my brains out!"

  Fuck that.

  I'd had to take a lot of crap in my life, from my stepmother, and occasionally on the job. But I didn't need to take crap from random strangers, no matter how rich, famous, or gorgeous they happened to be.

  I snuck a glance in the mirror. When I'd crawled into bed after my shower, I hadn't bothered to dry my hair. And it showed. I had a wicked case of bed-head, and there were dark circles under my eyes. I was wearing an oversized gray T-shirt and pajama bottoms covered in ninja penguins.

  He deserved to see this.

  I felt myself smile. He deserved steak and eggs too, right? And I knew just the girl to serve it up to him.

  When I flung open the front door a couple minutes later, he was still there, wearing what I'd come to recognize as his usual outfit – faded jeans and a T-shirt. This shirt was black, accenting the tattoos that snaked up his forearms. His hair still had that semi-tousled look, and his face was heart-stopping gorgeous in spite of the expression of unease that quickly settled over his features.

  "Hi!" I said with an overly big smile. "I'm ever so glad you stopped by." I practically leaped out of the entryway and slammed the door behind me to keep Chucky from getting out. "Steak and eggs, right?"

  He took a half step backward. "Uh, did I wake you up?"

  "Of course not," I gushed, doing my best crazy stalker impression. "I've been waiting for hours and hours for you to show up. Look!" I said, thrusting the paper lunch bag in his direction. "I made you breakfast and everything, just like you wanted." I lowered my voice. "Baby."

  He eyed the bag, but made no move to take it.

  I shoved it closer. "Go on," I urged with another stalker smile, "Take it. I made it just for you."

  Reluctantly, he took the bag. Slowly, he opened it and peered inside. I watched, breathless, as he studied the contents. For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then, his mouth twitched. He looked up. "Really, you shouldn't have," he said.

  This wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting.

  The bag contained a couple of whole eggs, along with a handful of steak-flavored doggie treats.

  He was supposed to be offended, not amused. As I watched, he reached into the bag and pulled out a doggie treat. He held it up and gave it a quick sniff. "I think I'll save this for later," he said.

  Slowly, I felt something like sanity return. And once it did, I was suddenly way too conscious that I was standing on the Parkers' front steps, looking like a crazy person. I hadn't planned for this. He was supposed to have stormed off by now, which would've given me the chance to stalk back into the house and slam the door not exactly in his face, but definitely in his back.

  Now what?

  He gave my outfit a long, amused look. "Penguins," he said with a slow nod of his head. "Nice."

  I'm not a blushing person, but I swear, I could feel the color rise to my face. What the hell was I doing? Stupid question. I already knew the answer. I was making an ass of myself. The fight-or-flight mechanism was starting to kick in, big-time.

  "I've gotta go," I said, turning to head back inside.

  "Wait," he said.

  I turned to face him. He wasn't laughing anymore, but I could still see the amusement in his eyes, crinkling at the corners in a way that made me want to blush for an entirely different reason. I felt myself swallow.

  For a moment, he wasn't Lawton Rastor, the famous bad-ass womanizer, but merely the boy next door, which in a way he was.

  His eyes were deep and dark, and I felt myself get lost in them as he stood on the doorstep, holding that paper bag of utter crap.

  He reached into the front pocket of his jeans. "I found this in my car." He pulled out a small silver medallion that I recognized instantly. Chucky's ID tag. It must've fallen off his collar during the ride back last night.

  "Oh," I said. "So that's why you stopped by?"

  "It was one of the reasons." He held up the bag. "But hey, thanks for breakfast."

  I looked at the bag. "Uh, sorry about that." I cleared my throat and took Chucky's tag from his outstretched hand. "And thanks."

  "No problem."

  When he hopped in his car a minute later, I shuffled back into the house, wondering what was more stupid, my misguided anger that he might show up for a pre-nooner, or my odd disappointment that he didn't. Maybe he just didn't see me in that way.

  But as I caught my reflection in the hall mirror, it wasn't hard to see why. I decided that if I never saw the guy gain, it would be too soon. As bad as I looked, I should've worn that bag over my head.

  It wasn't until I was halfway up the stairs that something occurred to me. He never did give his other reason for stopping by. And I'd been so distracted, I never did ask him.

  Too late for that now. I stumbled back to the guest room and crawled under the covers, but no matter how hard I tried, I never could fall back asleep.

  Chapter 12

  I stared at my cell phone, unable to believe it. The call had come. Finally. My heart racing, I felt a wide smile spread across my face. Holy crap. I had a job.

  A real job.

  And I'd be starting in mid-November, just a little over five weeks away. Sure, it was a long lead-time, but there was a good reason, and I wasn't about to complain.

  It was the day after I'd given Lawton that stupid paper bag, and I'd been in the shower when they'd called. But the message hit all the highlights I needed – the pay, the start-date, the benefits.

  They weren't anything extravagant, but they were a lot more than I was used to. I was still dripping from
the shower when I returned the hiring manager's call.

  It was official. A few Mondays from now, I'd be signing the paperwork.

  It had been weeks since the interview, but the job was perfect. Not only would I actually be using my degree, I'd be working regular hours for the first time in my life. The company was small, and the pay wasn't spectacular, but it wasn't minimum wage either. And I'd finally get the job experience I desperately needed to move on to something bigger and better when the opportunity presented itself.

  Maybe I'd even double-up and keep the waitressing job another month or two, just on weekends. Sure, it would stink. But by Christmas, I'd be rich, at least by my standards.

  I'd finally have enough money to cover a security deposit and other expenses. When my stint at the Parkers' ended, I could get my own place.

  No more house-sitting, no more tip-toeing around in someone else's domain. No more sleeping on my Dad's god-awful couch. I'd have a place of my own, even if it was low-rent.

  It was just before noon, and I wasn't scheduled to waitress that night. It made for an almost perfect day, and when I left to walk Chucky, my steps were lighter than they had been in a long time.

  Sometime that night, a warm front had moved in, lending the hint of Indian summer to the fall air. Chucky and I were walking the usual route when I saw a familiar figure lounging outside the gate of Lawton's estate. The form was unmistakable: the long legs, the tousled hair, the chiseled features.

  It was Lawton. He wore jeans and yet another black T-shirt, this one with long sleeves. As Chucky and I walked closer, I almost forgot to breathe. He looked like a heavenly demon, fallen from some other world just to give girls like me something to fantasize about when their ordinary lives grew unsatisfying.

  Not that I was unhappy to see him, but what was he doing just standing there? Enjoying the weather? And if so, shouldn't he be lounging by a pool or something?

  The sky was clear, and the air felt almost balmy, at least compared to how it had been. I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I'd figured out too late it was too many clothes. At least I wasn't alone. As far as I could tell, Lawton had made the same mistake.