Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  He strode to the passenger's side. He raised the iron again. "Compared to you, it means less than nothing."

  I watched helplessly, frozen by disbelief, as he bashed off the other mirror, and then destroyed both headlights, leaving scattered bits of glass on the dark pavement.

  "Stop it!" I yelled.

  He gave a sad shake of his head and raised the iron high above his head. He slammed it down on the hood, leaving an ugly dent in the beautiful finish. He raised the iron and struck again. And again. Soon, the hood was mangled almost beyond recognition.

  I was having a hard time catching my breath. He loved that car. He'd spent countless hours restoring it with his own hands. Now he was destroying it right before my eyes.

  I couldn't act. I couldn't think. I staggered backward and hit something unexpected.

  And then, I heard that dreaded voice. "Sweeeeet."

  I whirled around, and there he was. Shaggy. With that damn cell phone.

  Chapter 13

  Shaggy was holding the phone out in front of him, directly toward Lawton and his mangled car.

  I glared at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Taking video," Shaggy said. "What else?"

  Helplessly, I looked toward Lawton. He stood near the passenger's side door, watching us with a blank expression. The iron dangled loosely in his right hand. And then, it clattered to the pavement. An instant later, he was at my side.

  "You." He glared at Shaggy. "Get away from her. Now."

  With a shrug, Shaggy took a couple steps away from me. He turned back toward the mangled car. "Oh man," he said. "That is so messed up." He held out his cell phone. "Total viral." He stepped closer, zooming in on the hood.

  "Stop that!" I said.

  He shook his head. "No way."

  I gave Lawton a pleading look. "Are you just gonna stand there and let him take video of – " I waved my hands on a useless gesture "—this?"

  Shaggy chuckled. "It's called freedom of the press, baby." He turned to call over his shoulder. "Am I right, or what?"

  "Got that right," said a distant, unfamiliar voice.

  Wildly, I glanced around and came to a horrible realization. Shaggy wasn't the only one invading our privacy. Around us, maybe a dozen people stood clustered within spitting distance.

  I saw wide eyes, eager expressions, and more than a couple of cell phones, held out camera-style, just like Shaggy's.

  "Oh my God," I groaned. I leaned my head down and covered my face with both hands. "This isn't happening."

  I felt a hand on my elbow. "Chloe," Lawton said. "You okay?"

  I heard myself laugh. A foreign sound with jagged edges, like it came from someone else. I heard it grow louder, drowning out everything – the murmur of voices, Shaggy's stupid commentary, and the beating of my own heart.

  Too soon, laughter turned to sobs, quieter than the laugher, but infinitely more unsettling. Lawton's arms closed around me. He gathered me to his chest, shielding me from everything – the crowd, the sight of his car, and Shaggy with his stupid phone.

  "God, this is all my fault," he murmured into my hair. "I'm so, so sorry. Baby, c'mon, don't cry."

  Suddenly, his body tensed. When he spoke, his voice was hard, with an undertone of menace so sharp that I fought the urge to step away.

  "You take one more shot of her," he said, "and you're gonna be out more than just another phone."

  Another phone?

  Oh God, was Lawton the psycho who smashed Shaggy's last one? He had to be. Shit. How well did I know this guy, anyway?

  I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. This was a living nightmare. Except I couldn’t wake up.

  Lawton's arms tightened. He shifted his position as if hiding me from someone's view. "Get the fuck away from her!" he yelled.

  And then I heard a new voice, ferocious and female.

  Chapter 14

  "Chester!" she yelled. "You son of a bitch!"

  Startled, I pulled my head away from Lawton and looked toward the sound of the voice. And there she was, the petite red-head. She stood on the opposite side of Lawton's car, near the passenger's side door.

  Her face was flushed, and her hair was wild. She was glaring at Shaggy. "I knew it!" she yelled.

  I glanced toward Shaggy. His eyes were huge, and his mouth was half open. He glanced frantically around as if seeking the fastest avenue of escape.

  "You bolt now," the redhead warned, "and you're walking home." Her voice rose. "And when you get there, guess what? You're gonna find the locks changed, because I've just about had it with this crap!"

  Shaggy offered up a shaky smile. "Heeeey Jen. So what are you doing out here?"

  "Me?" she shrieked. "What am I doing out here? You're kidding, right?"

  "Yeah. I mean no," he stammered. "I thought you were gonna wait for me."

  She glared across the car at him. "You mean in the fucking restaurant? Where do you think I've been the last hour?"

  "An hour?" Shaggy glanced toward the restaurant. "Oh c'mon, it hasn't been that long."

  She reached into her big red purse and pulled out a foil-wrapped container. "Still want that romantic dinner?"

  Shaggy took a step backward. "No, I'm good, but uh, thanks."

  Jen laughed. "Oh, you haven't been good for a long time. And you wanna know why? Because of you and your stupid Web site!"

  She dug through the foil container. "You know how many times you've left me sitting alone while you chased some stupid story?" Her hand emerged from the container with – was that a shrimp?

  Shaggy took another step backward.

  "And you know how many places?" She raised her arm. A jumbo shrimp went flying toward Shaggy's head.

  He ducked to the side. "Aw c'mon Jen! Not again!"

  She reached into the container again. "At my sister's wedding!" She hurled another shrimp. This one hit Shaggy's chest and bounced onto the pavement.

  From about a car-length away, something flashed. A camera? Shaggy's head whipped toward the flash. "Hey!" he yelled. "No pictures! C'mon, dude!"

  "At my class reunion!" Jen yelled. "At my uncle's funeral!" She reached into the shrimp container and pulled out a whole fistful. She flung the whole mess in Shaggy's direction. It scattered across the pavement near his feet.

  She stalked around Lawton's car. Her fists were clenched as she headed straight for Shaggy. He looked wildly around, like escape still might be possible. But in the end, whether frozen by terror or her threat of changing the locks, he held his ground.

  Before I could blink, she was on him. She ripped the phone from his hand and hurled it to the pavement. It crashed down, shattering into broken bits.

  Shaggy looked down, his eyes half-crazed. "My phone!"

  Jen gave a bark of laughter. "Your phone? Your phone?"

  "Hey, you gave it to me," he said.

  "No. I let you use it," she said, "It's my phone! And what did you promise?"

  "Uh—"

  "You promised to leave it home tonight. But did you?" She turned toward the crowd. "Did he?"

  Around us, gawkers nervously shook their heads. Someone near the back was still taking pictures, illuminating the area with random flashes that made the whole sordid scene that much more unsettling.

  Shaggy turned toward the source of the flashing. "Dude, c'mon!" he yelled. "Cut that out! Give us some privacy, will ya?"

  Suddenly, I heard a burst of laughter. It sounded half-crazed.

  Oh my God. It was coming from me. Through this entire spectacle, I'd been too transfixed to move. But now, I couldn't help it. I pushed away from Lawton and stumbled toward the shattered phone. I looked down.

  "It doesn't look okay anymore," I said, with another snort of laughter.

  "What's so damn funny?" Shaggy said.

  "Do you really have to ask?" I turned to the redhead. "Sorry, I know it's not funny. I just –" I looked to the phone. "Oh my God. I so wanted to do that."

  Her eyebrows furrowed. "Weren't you our waitre
ss?"

  "She's not gonna be anyone's waitress," said a male voice somewhere behind me, "if she doesn't get her butt back to work pronto."

  Chapter 15

  I stifled a groan. I knew that voice. I turned around, and sure enough, there he was, the worst boss ever.

  Keith elbowed his way to the front of the small crowd. He stopped and put both hands on his hips. "Break time's over," he said.

  "What break?" I said. "You sent me home. Remember?"

  "No," he said in a tone of forced patience. "I sent you on break."

  "Get real," I said. "You did not."

  "Oh yeah? Check the schedule," he said. "You've got three hours left. Or did you forget that too?"

  "I didn't forget anything," I said. "You were the one who clocked me out."

  Shaking his head, Keith took a long, lingering look at the scene surrounding us, taking in the battered muscle car, the destroyed cell phone, the crowd of gawkers. And then his gaze stopped. His eyes widened. I turned to see what he was staring at.

  It was Lawton, standing directly to my right. He was studying Keith with flat, hooded eyes. Lawton's hands, loose at his sides, twitched like he wanted to throttle someone. Who that someone was, I had no idea, given the wide range of possibilities. Shaggy? Keith? I swallowed. Me?

  "Hey," Keith said to Lawton, "aren't you –"

  "Yeah," Lawton said, flicking his head in my direction. "Chloe's boyfriend."

  I whirled to face him. "You are not."

  Lawton stared down at me, his eyes pleading. He reached for my hand. Our fingers brushed, and I fought the urge to fall into his arms, safe from everything.

  There was only one problem. I wouldn’t be safe from the most dangerous person of all. Him.

  Blinking hard, I pulled my hand away.

  Somewhere near Lawton's car, I heard Shaggy's voice, low and earnest. "Hey Dude, can I borrow your phone?"

  "Screw you," a male voice said.

  "Aw c'mon," Shaggy said. "Be a sport, will ya?"

  "You touch that phone," a female voice said, "and you're a dead man."

  Shaggy groaned theatrically. "Aw c'mon, Jen!"

  Nearby, Keith cleared his throat, far too noisily for it to be genuine. I glanced in his direction.

  "Chloe," he said through clenched teeth. "Might I speak with you a moment?" He gave the crowd a calculating look. "In private."

  I returned my gaze to Lawton. "You should go," I told him.

  He shook his head. "Not before we talk."

  What the hell? Was he trying to get me fired? "I can't," I said. "I've gotta go."

  "Then come by later," he said. "Promise me."

  Slowly, I shook my head.

  "Alright," he said, flicking his gaze to his car. "I'll wait here."

  For all I knew, he'd be waiting three hours. Maybe more. "You can't wait here," I said. "It might be all night."

  He looked unimpressed. "I don't care."

  Shit. I should make him wait. It would serve him right. But damn it, I'd never be able to focus on my job, knowing that Lawton was out here in the parking lot. I was barely holding it together as it was.

  "Alright, fine," I said. "I'll stop by. But it might be morning before I get off work."

  Something in his shoulders eased. He gave a slow nod. "I'll be waiting."

  Nearby, Keith cleared his throat again. "Yeah," he muttered. "Waiting. I know how that feels."

  "Alright, I'm coming!" I turned back to Lawton. "Go, alright? Please?"

  When he gave a small nod, I turned toward Keith, who motioned me to follow him. With a sigh, I kept pace with him as he strode several car lengths away. When we were out of earshot, he said, "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but we simply can't have this."

  I studied him with raised eyebrows. "This? Which 'this' are you referring to?"

  He crossed his arms. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

  I crossed my arms too. "Apparently."

  He glanced at my arms. "Are you mocking me?"

  "Look," I said, "whatever you've got to say, just say it, alright?"

  "Oh, I'll say it, alright," he said. "And you'd better listen good, because this is a professional establishment. We can't have —" he gave a little wave of his hands as if searching for the words "—domestic disturbances here on the premises."

  "Domestic disturbances?" I said. "Seriously?"

  His expression hardened. "In case you forgot, this is your place of employment, not a pickup joint."

  I couldn't help it. I laughed in his face. "Says the guy who screws customers in the parking lot."

  Keith looked around and lowered his voice. "She's not a customer." He lifted his chin. "She's my girlfriend."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah? Since when?"

  "That's none of your concern."

  "I heard she's gonna be working here," I said. "Is it true?"

  "So what if she is?" he said. "She applied, and we're short-staffed. She's not getting any preferential treatment, if that's what you're implying."

  I squinted at him. "Doesn't the employee manual expressly forbid dating between managers and their employees?"

  He gave me a nasty smile. "Not when no one knows about it."

  I gave him a nasty smile right back. "Well, that's the thing, Keith. I do know about it. And I can prove it too."

  His smile widened. "Really? How?"

  I felt my own smile falter. He knew exactly how. Unless – did he know something I didn't?

  My phone was still inside the restaurant. But it wasn't like I should need to worry about it. It was locked in one of the back lockers, along with my purse and a few other personal items.

  "I'm glad we had this little chat," Keith continued. "Now get back to work before I have to write you up."

  "For the last time," I said, "you sent me home."

  "And for the last time," he said in a mocking tone, "I sent you on break."

  "Oh c'mon, you clocked me out yourself. Remember?"

  "What I remember," he said, "is that according to the manual, no one except the employee can clock his or herself in or out. So, to answer your question, no, I don't remember because that would be a clear violation of company policy."

  I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

  "I'll ignore your attitude, and tell you what I do know," he said. "Your break ended thirty minutes ago, and rather than return to your station, you're out here, living it up with your boyfriend."

  My jaw dropped. Living it up?

  "If you still want a job," he said, "I suggest you get back to work." He gave me a thin smile. "Before I send you home, permanently."

  I stared at him, thinking of all the times he'd threatened my job within the last few weeks. The first time, it had rubbed me raw. Now, I felt like one giant callous. Or maybe that was only the fatigue talking.

  But all that aside, if I had the chance to work a few more hours, I'd be stupid to not take it. It was nearly three in the morning, prime time for the after-bar rush. The tips alone would go a long way toward Grandma's rent money.

  I turned toward the restaurant and started walking.

  "About time you listened," Keith said, falling in beside me.

  As I made the long trek across the parking lot, I took one final look over my shoulder. Lawton stood, leaning against the hood of his car, his arms crossed and his gaze on me. Nearby, Shaggy was scooping up remnants of his – correction, his girlfriend's – cell phone. Other than Shaggy's girlfriend, most of the gawkers were gone.

  "When you get back," Keith said, "the next table's yours. Got it?"

  "Oh, I've got it alright," I said. "But first, I'm checking my timecard."

  "Why would you wanna do that?"

  "Because," I said," "if I'm clocked out, you'd better believe I'm clocking back in."

  He cleared his throat. "Well, if you are clocked out, just remember, it wasn't me who did it."

  I gave him a sideways glance. "Uh-huh."

  Besides, there was something else I
needed to check.

  My phone. Because I had a bad feeling it wasn't exactly the way I'd left it.

  Chapter 16

  I stood in the back room, staring down at my phone. For the third time, I frantically scrolled through its photos.

  It was stupid, really. The phone was relatively new. I'd taken only a handful of shots, including several by accident.

  The worst, or the best, depending on how you looked at it, had been an image of Lawton stark naked. That picture I'd finally deleted, but not before it caused me all kinds of grief by giving Lawton the worst impression of me and my intentions.

  But right now, there was only one photo I was looking for – the one of Keith and Brittney in all their backseat glory. It was the very last photo I'd taken. It should've shown up first. Instead, it wasn't showing up at all.

  I glanced again at my locker. I'd locked it myself, using my own combination lock. The lock was intact when I'd returned. Had I deleted the photo myself? Maybe by accident? It seemed unlikely.

  Thank God I'd texted a copy to Erika. I scrolled through my outgoing texts, and there it was, along with her response, a simple "LOL."

  Laugh out loud. Yeah, it was pretty funny. But right now, I wasn't laughing. Someone had tampered with my phone. I just knew it. And if the missing photo wasn't confirmation enough, Keith's attitude told me all I needed to know.

  He wasn't scared. He was an obnoxious asshat. Like he always was.

  "Hey Chloe!" he called from somewhere out front. "You coming out here, or what?"

  Speaking of asshats.

  I tucked my phone back into my purse just in time to see Keith round the corner, carrying a yellow timecard. I slammed the locker shut and gave the lock a few spins – not that it would do any good, assuming my suspicions were correct.

  Still, I felt myself smile as I considered the thing Keith didn't know, that I had another copy.

  "What are you so happy about?" he said.

  "Nothing." I looked to his hand. "Is that my timecard?"

  "Yeah," he said, thrusting the thing in my face. "Initial here. It does seem that someone clocked you out." He puffed out his chest. "But you'll be happy to know I did the adjustment personally."