Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  Maybe I shouldn't have tugged so hard against them. It's not like it had done any good. If Lawton hadn't finally unlocked them after realizing his epic screw-up, I'd probably still be trapped in his basement, watching him watch me.

  In my mind's eye, I could still see him standing there, his eyes flat and his jaw set. The way he looked at me, I'd never forget. It was burned into my brain like the time my Mom called me a slut in fifth grade for holding hands with Shawn Proctor.

  Like she was in any position to judge.

  "We were taking bets," Josie was saying. "Odds of you getting fired were running five to one."

  I tried to smile. "Which way did you bet?"

  If I were Josie, I'd totally bet against me. I'd already been on probation. I'd been hours late for my shift. I wasn't exactly the manager's pet. No doubt, I was supposed to be fired.

  Saved by a backseat blowjob and an itchy camera finger. Well, that was one for the record books.

  But who was I kidding? Eventually, Keith would find some way to get rid of me. If he couldn’t do it directly, he'd have to get creative. It was only a matter of time.

  "It was because of the flu," Josie was saying.

  I squinted over at her. "Huh?"

  "The flu," she said. "It's still making the rounds, so I figured you'd be safe another week at least." She grinned. "I made fifty bucks. Sonya was so pissed."

  "Nice to know she's rooting for me," I said.

  "Eh, don't take it personal. She's having a rough day. She's only been here since lunch."

  "Twelve hours?" I said. In the world of waitressing, that was a lifetime. "Why so long?"

  "She's covering for some girl on the day shift. Even me, I should've been gone hours ago." She winced. "My feet are totally killing me."

  "Who are you covering for?" I asked.

  "Well, you, actually. When you didn't show up, Keith told me I had to stay. He didn't even ask. He just barked out an order, like a drill sergeant or something."

  "Oh. Sorry." I felt the color rise to my cheeks. "But I'm here now. Can't you go home?"

  She shook her head. "We're still short. Listen to this. Before you got here, Jasmine threw up in the parking lot."

  "Our parking lot?" I could totally sympathize. I felt like throwing up too. But in my case, it had nothing to do with the flu. Still, poor Jasmine.

  "Oh yeah," Josie said. "Right outside the front door. It was pretty disgusting, actually. So get this. Keith hears about it, and he totally flips out."

  I rolled my eyes. "Like that's a surprise."

  "No kidding," Josie said. "So he goes outside, and he practically drags her back to his office. And guess what he does next?"

  "What?"

  Josie was grinning. "The moron threatens to fire her."

  I stared at Josie. As someone who'd been on the firing line myself, I saw no reason to smile.

  "Oh, don't give me that look," she said. "You haven't heard the funny part. So Jasmine starts crying. And she gets so worked up, get this. She throws up again. But this time –" Josie's smile widened "– it's on Keith."

  I felt the first tug of a real smile. "Seriously?"

  "Seriously. He had to change his pants and everything. You should've seen him. He was madder than hell until –" Josie's smile faded "– some blonde in this super-tight dress shows up asking for him."

  My smile faded too. Brittney the Skank. It had to be. I was almost afraid to ask. "So what happened then?"

  "So Keith and Blondie, they're in his office maybe five, ten minutes. And when they come out, Keith's looking all happy. It was kind of creepy, actually."

  Creepy? She should've seen the squid. I stifled a shudder and nodded for Josie to continue.

  "So Keith walks her out, and he's gone forever." She snorted. "It's like they went to some cheap hotel or something."

  Yeah, I thought. A pine-scented hotel on wheels.

  Working on autopilot, I added the last cherry to the sundaes. I glanced down for a final check. "Oh crap," I said. "Look at these things." They were half melted already. I picked up the tray. "Save that thought. I'll be right back."

  Josie grabbed my arm. "Wait," she said. "There's a reason I'm telling you all this."

  Something in her voice sent alarm bells ringing. Slowly I returned the tray to the counter. I turned to face her. "What is it?"

  Josie glanced around. "The blonde? The way I hear it, she's gonna be your replacement."

  Chapter 4

  My mouth fell open. "Brittney's taking my job? Here?"

  "Yeah, sorry." Josie gave me a sympathetic look. "Freddie the cook heard them talking out back. Apparently, she starts next week. As soon as she's trained, you're outta here."

  "That jerk!" I glanced across the dining room. I spotted Keith lounging against the hostess stand. When he saw me looking, he gave me a slow, toothy smile.

  A sick feeling settled into my stomach.

  But this didn't make any sense. I had that photo of him, with Brittney too. He couldn’t fire me. Not anymore. Josie's information had to be outdated. Right?

  "So anyway," Josie said, "it's gonna take a lot more than the flu to save you this time."

  Shit. She was right. Even if by some miracle, I was able to keep my job, I'd be working alongside the bimbo from hell. And that bimbo happened to be sleeping – or whatever – with my boss.

  I felt like screaming. That was the best-case scenario. Worst case, I'd be gone. And she'd be taking my place. It wasn't like this was my dream job or anything, but until I found something better, this was the closest thing I had.

  I was having a hard time catching my breath. Would Brittney be taking my place elsewhere too? In Lawton's bed? They'd been intimate before. With me out of the picture, would Brittney slide back in? I made a sound of disgust. More accurately, he'd be sliding back into her.

  I squared my shoulders. Fine. Brittney could have him. In fact, they deserved each other. Totally.

  So why did I feel like throwing up? An ugly image slithered into my brain. Lawton and Brittney, naked, together. I choked back a wave of nausea.

  If I was lucky, it was just the volcanic flu.

  "I'm really sorry," Josie was saying.

  I gripped the counter. "Yeah, well, I'm not gone yet," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "And besides, if I had a dollar for every time I was supposed to be fired, I'd probably own this place."

  "Well, you have been on a roll lately," she said.

  I blinked hard as I stared down at the pathetic sundaes. Some might call it a roll. I'd call it a giant suck-fest of bad luck and worse choices. When I reached for the spoons, my hand was shaking. Was Keith going back on our deal? So soon?

  "That asshole," I muttered.

  "Yeah," Josie said, glancing toward Keith. "He really does hate you, doesn't he?"

  Well, if he didn't hate me before, he definitely did now.

  I'd learned a few things tonight. One, it's hard for a guy to chase you when he's not wearing pants. Two, it's not any easier for a groupie in stiletto shoes. And three, I wasn't above blackmail when push came to shove.

  In the end, Brittney broke a heel, Keith broke down and said I could keep my job, and as for me, I broke a nail hanging onto that cell phone like my life depended on it.

  In a way, it did. One lost paycheck, and I'd be back on my Dad's basement couch, sucking up the smell of sour milk while the rest of the household slept on therapeutic mattresses with Egyptian sheets.

  While dodging Brittney in the parking lot, I'd miraculously managed to text that picture to my best friend, Erika for safe-keeping. Two copies were better than one, right?

  I should be ashamed of myself.

  Except I wasn't.

  Still, something was definitely off. In the parking lot, Keith had been panicked, scared even. I snuck a quick glance across the dining room. Now, he looked ready to strike. Something was very wrong. I turned back to Josie.

  At the look on her face, I stopped short. She was studying my sun
daes with an odd, vacant expression. I followed her gaze, and stifled a gasp. One of my bracelets had shifted forward, exposing the raw, angry skin for the whole world to see.

  I looked up. Slowly, her eyes met mine.

  Her voice was quiet. "What's that?"

  I shoved the bracelet back in place. "Nothing." I felt my eyes water, just a little. Damn it. I gave a quick shake of my head. I wasn't going to do this. Not now.

  I summoned up what I hoped was a smile. "Weird cooking accident." I gave a quick wave of my hand. "Long story, you don't want to know."

  "Oh." She frowned. "Okay. Well, if you ever want to talk--"

  "I don't. But thanks."

  I picked up the tray too fast. The sundaes wobbled dangerously, clinking and slopping globs of fudge over the sides. This was just great. They now looked nothing like their menu picture. Talk about a mess. Me and the sundaes.

  Before Josie could say anything else, I turned and plunged into the dining area.

  On autopilot, I made my way through the maze of tables and booths. Cooking accident? Seriously? Was that really the best I could do? Maybe I was a ditz.

  Silently I delivered the sundaes. No sass. No attitude. Probably no tip either. Leaving the table, my breath was coming too short and too fast. I tossed the empty tray on a dirty table and ducked into the crowded ladies room.

  I dove for the farthest stall and locked the door behind me. I leaned against the cool tile wall and closed my eyes. I had three hours left. Damn it. I so needed the money. If I were smart, I'd make every hour count.

  I wouldn't think about Keith. And I definitely wouldn’t think about Lawton.

  It was Lawton's fault I'd been late for work. And it was his fault that Brittney was out to get me. Finally, it was his fault that I was having a hard time holding it together.

  He'd stolen my heart, and then smashed it to pieces.

  That fucker.

  I wrapped my arms tight around myself and made a solemn vow. For the rest of my shift, I wouldn't think about anything except my job, and making up for lost time.

  I could do this. I had to do this. I took several deep breaths and thought happy thoughts – the feel of sunshine on a warm, spring day, the smell of an open campfire, the sound of Lawton screaming as I whacked him with a baseball bat.

  In real life, I'm not prone to violence. And the odds of Lawton actually screaming were slim at best. But hey, they're called fantasies for a reason. When I ditched the bat for a tire iron, the screaming seemed a lot more genuine.

  Ten minutes later, I left the stall just as shaky, but a lot more determined. Miraculously, the restroom had emptied, giving me more privacy than I had any right to expect.

  I stood alone in front of the long mirror and made myself smile. It felt fake and foreign, and no matter how hard I tried, it never did quite reach my eyes.

  But a stranger wouldn't know the difference, right? Besides, I didn't have to be cheerful, not exactly. I only had to be entertaining.

  For once, I thanked Heaven and Earth that this wasn't your average waitressing job. If I had to be perky right about now, I'm pretty sure I'd end up killing someone.

  With that stiff smile plastered in place, I left the restroom, grabbed a fresh tray from the waitress stand, and hustled to my next table. With an overblown sigh, I plopped down into an empty chair.

  "So, how's the food here?" I asked. "Anyone got a menu?" I looked around. "I'm totally starving." I glanced at the woman's purse. "Hey, got anything to eat in there? Gum? Chocolate?" I leaned closer. "A pizza?"

  This time, my intro was technically true. I really was starving. How many hours had it been since I'd eaten, anyway?

  But the couple laughed, and eventually I took their order. Soon I was delivering their drinks. After that, it got a little easier. It got easier still when Keith disappeared into his office in the back. If I were lucky, I wouldn’t see that weasel – or his squid – for the rest of the night.

  An hour later, I was finally getting into a groove. The place was swamped with the after-bar crowd, which was probably all for the best. Running from table to table and juggling too many things to count, I could almost forget my life was a walking disaster zone.

  But then, Keith made his first move.

  Chapter 5

  I was at the waitress station, processing a credit card payment when Keith emerged from the back office. "Alright," he announced, "time to send one of you girls home."

  Next to me, Josie's jaw dropped. Mine too. Outside, the line was scary long. Inside, every table was taken, either with actual customers or stacks of dirty dishes as the lone busboy struggled to keep up.

  "What?" I stared at him. "Why?"

  "Because we're overstaffed, that's why."

  "You've got to be kidding," I said.

  His gaze narrowed. "You think I'm out here for the fun of it, is that it?"

  I snorted. "I'm surprised you're out here at all."

  "Hey!" he said. "You wanna compare jobs?" He looked down at my skimpy uniform. "Well mine's a little harder than dropping off food and shaking my ass."

  As someone who'd actually seen his ass, I sincerely hoped he wouldn't be shaking that thing at anyone.

  Next to me, Josie pointed toward the dining area. "But we're totally slammed," she said. "Look at this place."

  He gave the dining room a cursory glance. "Not according to sales figures," he said. "Do I need to remind you girls? It's calculated by receipts, not customers."

  I glared at him. "So?"

  "So," he said, "if you wanna justify the manpower –" he smirked "– or should I say girl power, then maybe you should work a little harder at suggestive selling, huh? "

  "Hey!" Josie said. "I suggest the shit out of stuff."

  His jaw clenched. "What'd you just say to me?"

  Josie rolled her eyes. "Fine. Crap. I suggest the crap out of stuff. It's not my fault if people don't go for it."

  "Yeah," I said. "And besides, we can barely keep up as it is."

  He turned to smile at me. "Then you'll be happy to know that you're the girl who's going home."

  My mouth fell open. "What? Me? But I just got here."

  Was this his way of firing me without firing me? I'd dealt with him before. Agreement or not, he always found a loophole.

  I felt my jaw clench. I still had that photo of him with Brittney. Maybe I needed to find a loophole, too, like a billboard off I-75.

  Next to me, Josie spoke up. "Alright. Fine. Whatever. But if someone needs to go home—"

  "It'll be Chloe," Keith snapped. "Not you."

  Josie was glaring at him now too. "I was going to say Sonya."

  "Oh, so you're making these decisions now?" Keith said. "Last time I checked, I was the manager, not you."

  "But have you seen Sonya?" Josie said. "She's not looking too good."

  "Nice try," Keith said, "but I think your little friend can speak for herself."

  "What little friend?" I asked. "Me? Or Sonya?"

  "Doesn't matter," he said. "You're the one leaving. First in, first out. Just like the manual says."

  "But I was here last," I said.

  "Only because you were late."

  "But Sonya's been here since noon."

  "That's the day shift," he said. "Not my problem."

  "But—"

  "No buts. You," he said, pointing at me. "I'm clocking you out as of now." He pointed at Josie. "You. Cover her tables."

  Josie gave him a desperate look. "But I can't even cover my own."

  "Again, not my problem," he said.

  "Hey," I said, "You can clock me out all you want, but I'm staying 'til my tables are finished."

  "Why? So you can turn around and sue the restaurant later?" he said. "Tell them how I forced you to work for free?" He puffed out his chest. "Not gonna happen. Not on my watch."

  And with that, he turned and stalked back toward his office.

  I stared after him. "So he's gonna clock me out?" I said. "Is that even legal?"
/>   Josie rolled her eyes. "I dunno. Check the fucking employee manual. God, what a turd." She picked up her tray and turned toward the dining area. I watched her go. And that's when I saw them.

  The flashing red and blue of police lights.

  Chapter 6

  I looked over the crowd, wondering how I hadn't noticed all the commotion before.

  Against the long bank of front windows, customers were pressing their faces to the glass, cupping their hands around their eyes to shut out the glare. Behind them, others stood to peer over their shoulders, or craned their necks to see around them.

  Whatever was going on, it was happening in the front parking lot. And apparently it wasn't your average traffic stop.

  Suddenly, a stocky guy with shaggy hair stood and bolted. He strode toward the front exit, leaving his dinner partner, a petite redhead, scowling after him. Fork in hand, she glared daggers at his back as he pushed through the people waiting to be seated and disappeared out the front door.

  Sitting by herself, the redhead looked madder than hell, and I couldn't say I blamed her. I'd just delivered their food a few minutes earlier. Now she'd be eating it alone.

  And she wasn't the only one.

  As if Shaggy's departure had somehow granted everyone else permission, a slew of other diners followed after the guy – a couple near the far wall, a trio of college guys near the waitress station, a lone older man who'd been standing at the bar. Within a few minutes, at least thirty people, maybe more, had wandered outside.

  I made my way to the front windows and peered out. Across the parking lot, the lights were still flashing, reflecting red and blue off of two large, silver tour buses that I'd noticed on my way in.

  Josie dashed over breathlessly, tray in hand. "Hey, you wanna do me a favor?" she said. "Find out what's going on, will ya? The customers are asking."

  She glanced around, taking in the empty seats. "Well, the ones who are still inside anyway." Then she was gone, heading toward one of the many tables that I'd been forced to abandon, thanks to Keith and his employee manual.

  If I couldn't help her with those tables, at least I tell her what was going on. I owed her that much. I dashed to the back room and grabbed my coat off the rack.