Reviving Kendall (White Trash Trilogy Book 1)

by Brandy Slaven

  His eyes crinkle around the edges when he laughs, and I admire the shaggy dark brown hair that frames his face. As I take in the other two, I notice that they are all similarly built in variations of tallness. The only one that is smaller in muscle mass is the one with glasses. He’s just as hot as the others though with a strong angled face, dark blue eyes and black hair laid back against his head. Last but not least, is his buddy sitting next to him. With long blonde hair hanging past his shoulders, a smallish nose, and chocolate colored eyes, he looks like he just stepped out of a surfing magazine.

  I crack a genuine smile, “I’d say you guys do enough of that already.”

  Their expressions are a mixture of shock and amusement. Leaving them like that, I walk back to get their drinks. My smile quickly reverts back to a frown as guilt begins to eat at me. I flirt quite often for good tips, but it’s never real. I’m truly attracted to these guys and it’s the first time since the accident that it’s happened. Tears are fighting a battle behind my eyes as I try not to think of what my boys would say. They would tell me to be happy and get the fuck over it. I just don’t know how.

  Rearranging my face into something presentable, I make my way back over to give them their waters, “You guys know what you want, or do you need a few minutes?”

  I catch the one with glasses glaring at me as if he sees straight through my façade. Shit. There goes that good tip.

  The brown haired one answers for all of them again, “Yeah, we’re just going to have the all you can eat tacos.”

  A smile threatens to break out after his comment earlier, “Ok, anything else?”

  Surfer boy grins at me, “Your phone number.”

  I plaster another fake smile on my face again, “Don’t have one.”

  This makes him smile even wider, “Are you really trying to blow me off?” This guy is apparently used to getting his way, especially with the ladies.

  “No, actually,” I shrug, “I just really don’t have a number, because I don’t have a phone.”

  He tries to hide his shock with a smug smile, “Well, how about a name? I know you’ve got one of those.”

  I hesitate. Everything seems more personable that way, but I don’t want them complaining to Charles, “It’s Kendall. I’ll go get this in for you guys. Let me know if there’s anything else that you need.”

  Glasses watches the entire exchange without taking his eyes off me. It’s unnerving. Putting it all to the back of my mind, I spend the next hour running out taco refills to them.

  In between, I sweep up the floors and do all of my closing duties for the night. Once it’s time to close up shop, they finally ask for the check.

  “Sorry we stayed so long,” the blue-eyed blonde tells me as glasses signs the check. Surfer boy steals the pen as the rest of them slide out of the booth. Glasses looks down at me like he’s looking for something. Then without saying a word, he turns and walks away as the other two follow him out. Weirdo. I reach out to take the pen when surfer boy hands it to me. He shoots me a shit eating grin before he heads to the door. They’re all weirdos and that’s the official ruling.

  Shaking my head, I move to clear off the table. As I go to lift their check ticket, two bills fall out onto the table. My hands close around the two one-hundred dollars bills as my jaw hits my chest. They can’t be serious. Glancing down at the scrawl across the tiny white paper, I see why surfer boy stole the pen. Use this to go buy a phone and then call me. Followed by his phone number. Accidentally balling the paper up into my fist, I rush to the door in hopes that I can catch them.

  “Where’s the fire?” Theresa laughs.

  The door pops open just in time for me to see their headlights pull out of the parking lot, “Shit!”

  “What are you cussing for?” Theresa asks coming up behind me.

  I jerk my face around to her, “Those fucking weirdos that you gave me, dropped two hundred bucks as a tip!”

  “That’s not surprising,” she says even though her face says otherwise. “They used to be regulars in here before you started. That’s how I knew they’d tip you good. Maybe they thought you were pretty.”

  Rolling my eyes, I walk around her, “Yeah, I’m sure they did. I’ll just do them the favor next time and tell them where I live.”

  “There’s no shame in where you live, girl,” she says shaking her head. “It’s all about how you present yourself.”

  I turn her words over in my head as I find a non-existent speck to stare at on her back when she walks away.

  Stuffing the cash in my pocket, I take the receipt up to the counter. When I go to put the amount in from it, I realize that glasses put an extra fifty bucks on as a tip. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with them? Must be nice handing out daddy’s money like that. Either way, I won’t spend a dime of it. I’m not a goddamn charity case. I earn my way thank you very much. I’m going to give them a week to come back in. If they don’t then I’ll use surfer boy’s number to get it back to them somehow. Surprisingly, I don’t even need the week.

  Surburbiaville

  Charles doesn’t schedule me for Saturday and I’m ok with that. Says it was to hire a new server or something, but it gives me a chance to go get new work clothes. Plus, drop the rest of my money in the bank where it will go straight to paying the electricity bill. That’s one thing that I never want to live without in the winter again. I can sleep in ninety-degree weather with no AC, but I must have heat, even if it is what little bit we are able to contain in the trailer. The only thing that sucks is the smell. Those fucking cigarettes.

  I try to tell Gramps all the time that it’s going to kill him. It’s just hard for a man who lost the love of his life to cancer, and is now suffering the same fate to actually give a shit. Gramps isn’t a bad man. He never has been. He and Nana took me in when I was only six and my parents got busted for meth. They wouldn’t have to still be serving time if it wasn’t for some murder they were charged with on top of the drugs. Yeah, my parents are the epitome of white trash. Dear old mom and pop got prison and I got Gramps and Nana. Things were the best they’ve ever been for me for a full year. Then Nana got sick. We had to move out of their house they’ve owned for forty years, just to pay the bills. I was used to the trailer park life. There’s nothing degrading about it, because it’s the people inside that matter. Not the house. Nana took it hard though. She left us within the same year. I guess it was just too much for her. Then Gramps started smoking again and got sick himself. Life is a bitch and we drew the short end of the stick.

  Maybe that’s why Derrik’s words hurt so much. I know where I come from and god forbid when something happens to Gramps. I’ll have nowhere else to go but that trailer. At least it’s paid for and luckily, I’m of age, so I don’t have to worry about the state stepping in again.

  Now that it’s Sunday. I’m in the shower starting my quick getting ready ritual. It seriously consists of nothing but a shower, brushing my teeth, and a little make up. I don’t give a shit about my hair. I just always throw it up in a bun anyways. Stepping out of the tub, I wrap a thin towel around my body and shiver. Damn, I really need to splurge a little and get some new towels. These are so worn that they barely do their jobs anymore. It’s just not worth the money at the moment.

  Sighing, I wipe my hands across the fog on the mirror. A stranger’s face stares back at me. Long, wet, dark brown hair, greenish mostly brown eyes hiding under bushy eyebrows with a small nose and lips a little too big for my face is what I see. The dark circles under my eyes do nothing for the image either. Maybe on a healthy person who isn’t so stressed all the time, my looks would be considered classic beauty. Teresa was so wrong. There’s no way in hell those guys found me attractive the other night. I’m nowhere even close to their type anyways.

  Angrily tossing my eyeliner back into my bag, I wonder why the fuck I’m even thinking about them in the first place. They’ve been on my mind since Friday night and I can’t seem to get them out. Which of course leaves me an a
ngry guilty mess. It’s probably a good idea to schedule an appointment with my therapist soon, but I have neither the time nor money right now. I’ll just double my meds today and hope that it helps.

  I get dressed and walk into the living room. Gramps is passed out in his chair with a cigarette burnt to ash between his fingers. Snatching it from him, I smash it down inside an old Coke can before tossing it in the trash.

  “I wasn’t finished with that,” he says hoarsely between coughs.

  With my back to him I roll my eyes, “You were out, and it was burned to ash anyways.”

  He coughs again, “I wasn’t asleep, I just closed my eyes for a second.”

  Right. “Well I’ve got to work today. I won’t be home till later. Is there anything you need?” I ask with my hand on the doorknob

  “I need another carton,” he says seriously.

  My eyebrows shoot up on my forehead, “That’s not happening. Anything else?”

  “You’re as stubborn and bullheaded as your Nana...was,” he says.

  I smile, “And that’s something she was always proud of, especially when it came to you.” Turning back around, I walk over to him. A smile crosses his face as I lean down and press my lips against the top of his bald head.

  “I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late.” I tell him.

  His voice reaches me about the time the door swings open, “You can always take the car you know.”

  My steps falter and I find myself staring at the old blue Chevrolet Malibu sitting in the driveway. His voice turns softer, “It’s been two years, Kendall. You already have your license. Keys are hanging in the same place they always are. I can’t stand the thought of you walking home at night alone.”

  “Thanks, Gramps,” I say trying not to get choked up. Then I shut the door on his sigh.

  I get lost in my head thinking on his words. It really has been that long and if Will were here, he would laugh at me while he says that my fear is ridiculous. Ever since the accident, I’ve been terrified to be in a car. Buses don’t freak me out as bad and I think it’s because they are bigger. Who knows. Maybe I’m just a white trash freak. Or maybe Gramps is right. Maybe it’s time to get back on the horse.

  I stay on autopilot the entire forty-five-minute walk to work and all the way through dinner.

  About thirty minutes before we close, Theresa shines a light through the fog in my head and pulls me out, “You’ve got table twelve.”

  I shake my head, “No, that’s Becca’s section.”

  Her left eyebrow quirks up and a smile crosses her face, “They asked for you specifically.”

  There’s only two “they” that I can think of that would ask for me, Derrik’s dick squad and the strangers from the other night. With the way that she’s acting I’m guessing it’s the latter. My head truly hopes that it is. My heart isn’t so sure.

  Straightening my shirt, I walk around the corner. Said heart does a funny skipping beat thing and feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.

  “Well, well, well. We were hoping that you were here tonight,” blonde surfer boy says as I make it to the table. Before I can say anything, he continues, “You know, I waited all weekend for a phone call, but never got one.”

  His dark-haired friend says, “It’s true. He hasn’t shut up about it since Friday night.”

  This reminds me of the money burning a hole in my back pocket. I take out the two hundred-dollar bills plus the fifty from the ticket and drop them on the table, “That’s because I don’t have a phone. Like I told you before.”

  “Damn, Teagan. Guess you heard that,” the other blonde across the table says.

  Teagan growls, “Shut the fuck up, Goose. We’re not finished here. Are we Kendall?”

  Damn myself for giving him my name the other night and damn Teagan for making it sound so fucking sexy rolling off his tongue.

  Guilty anger spikes through my chest, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just charity case someone two hundred bucks to get into their pants. I’m not a fucking hooker!”

  I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips, especially since there’s a couple sitting close enough to overhear and are now staring. Teagan sits open mouthed staring at me as Goose and the other blonde look anywhere but at us. It’s the other set of eyes that throw me off. Dark blue ones framed by a pair of glasses. His look says he’s halfway impressed with the bug under the microscope.

  It’s awkward for about thirty seconds before keeping my voice down, I say, “I’m sorry. But I’m not taking your money and you’re not sitting in my section tonight. Becca will be with you shortly.” At that I walk away leaving Teagan’s jaw still on the floor.

  I find my way outside to the smoker’s spot behind the restaurant. The cold helps clear my head. It’s at least ten minutes before Charles finds me, “You ok, Kendall?”

  I broke about every serving rule in less than five minutes. There’s no way he’s not out here to fire me. Fuck, I really need this job. Best to start groveling now, “I’m really sorry, Charles. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  He holds his hand up to stop me, “I asked if you were ok.”

  I nod, and he says, “Good. Now listen, I’ve known you for a very long time and I know you’ve been through some real shit in your life. There’s no way in hell you would react like that if it wasn’t warranted.”

  I go to say something, and he holds up his hand again, “I don’t even want to know. No matter how regular the customer, I trust you.”

  Tears threaten to spill over, but I yank them back in, “So, you’re not going to fire me?”

  He laughs, “Not tonight, but I do want you to head on home. Theresa and Becca can finish up closing.”

  I nod and follow him back inside. When I pass Theresa, she pulls me into a sympathetic hug. Returning it, I then pull on my coat. Now I just have to make it through the dining room. If I’m lucky, they’ll already be gone.

  They aren’t, per my luck and I feel their stares burning holes into me. Once I’m outside, I take a deep breath of cold air. For once, I’m thankful for the long walk home, even as I have to avoid the Dicks pumping gas at the Shell. Not the smartest plan, but I stick to the shadows a little more just in case they drive by.

  Headlights flash and a car slows down next to me. Just fucking lovely. I don’t want Derrik at my back, so I turn to face the almost stopped car. Low and behold, it’s not the dick squad.

  “Kendall?” Teagan says from an open window. “Look, I’m really sorry about the way things happened. I was a jerk and I get that.”

  His apology is sincere, but I’m still frustrated and I’m getting cold from standing still, “What do you want?”

  “Well,” he says hesitating like he is weighing his words before saying them, “Do you want a ride home?”

  Biting back my automatic sarcastic retort, I say, “No thanks.”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy, “Are you sure? It’s pretty fucking cold out here.” The nice brown haired one punches him in the arm. “Sorry, I mean, it’s cold out.”

  Shaking my head, I open my mouth and a horn blares as a car zooms by. I have about half a second to realize that someone chucked something out the window. I can’t help the yelp that comes out as the cup makes contact with my chest and explodes all over me.

  Teagan and Goose, who was riding shotgun, are out of the car and over to me before the cup even hits the ground. I fight tears as I try to wipe the sticky mess off.

  “Are you ok?” Teagan asks as Goose at the same time says, “Hell.”

  “What the actual fuck was that?” a deep voice asks. I glance up to see the other two from the car standing close. The voice belongs to glasses.

  “You’re still here?” Goose asks him.

  His eyes move toward the disappearing taillights and then back to me, “I thought about going after them, but I’m not leaving you here.”

  I know that he’s talking to them, but it almost feels like he’s talking to
me. Possibly wishful thinking on my part. Either way, my insides do a flip, “I’ll be fine really. It was just the Derrik Dicks.”

  “You know those assholes?” the nice one asks.

  Before I can answer glasses says, “Get in the car. We’re taking you home.”

  “I’m fi-“

  “I swear to god, if you say that you’re fine, I will pick you up and throw you in the car myself,” he says pushing through the other two and coming face to face with me.

  My nerves have had all that they can take tonight, “I don’t even fucking know you! Haven’t you ever heard of stranger danger?”

  He points to himself, “Maverick, Teagan, Goose, and Lucas.” Then facing me he points to my chest, “Kendall. There. Happy? Now get in the car.” Turning to walk back towards the car, he gets in and slams the door.

  “Fine!” I yell. “You want to take me home? Let’s do this.” At least this will kill any notions any of them had of being even friends with me. Once they see where I live that is.

  It only takes us ten minutes, but it’s pure fucking torture on my anxiety. So much so that I’m borderline panic attack by the time that I say, “Right here.”

  I hop out of the passenger seat and shut the door of their brand-new Range Rover. The window rolls down and I spread my arms wide, “There it is boys. Home sweet home. And this is where you run back to Surburbiaville and forget about the poor girl from the trailer park. Thanks for the ride.”

  I put one foot in front of the other and make it all the way inside before I break down.

  Want to Make a Deal?

  After crying myself to sleep last night, I wake up with darker than normal circles under my eyes. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling and try to figure out why it matters so much. It really shouldn’t. Pity parties have no room in my life. Don’t have the time and in the end will get me nowhere, yet here I lay wallowing.

  I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes before throwing back the covers and getting up. Tossing my hair up in its usual bun, I dress in a black tank and button up red flannel shirt. The jeans I pull on just so happen to be my favorite. They come from a yard sale about a year ago and are faded with holes in the knees, but I love them. Safe and comfortable is just what I need today.