Get You Some_To format

by Lani Lynn Vale

  That was the biggest bunch of bullshit I’d ever heard in my life, and just as I opened my mouth to retort, June came back down the hallway heading directly past the girl’s chair.

  “Hello, Francesca. How is your science project coming along?”

  I frowned.

  “It’s good. Thank you for offering to help me with the political science aspect of it. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be really far behind.” Francesca’s face lit up as she replied to June.

  My belly clenched for an altogether different reason. Happiness that the girl wasn’t a robot like her mother and grandmother.

  Often times a child was an exact replica of their parent, and whether good or bad, those things rubbed off.

  Like me and my father.

  We were alike in so many ways it was eerie sometimes.

  “Francesca,” the older woman snapped.

  June winked at Francesca and kept walking. “Hello, Beatrice. Amadea.”

  What the fuck kind of names did this woman dream up?

  The moment June was back at her table, both women turned to the young girl, identical pairs of expressions on their face. Disapproval.

  Extreme disapproval.

  I frowned right along with them, but for a completely different reason than disapproval.

  I didn’t like how they were treating June. Not one goddamn bit.

  I didn’t care if she was ‘bad’ like everyone said that she was. I cared that they treated her with respect.

  It didn’t matter what a person had done, they deserved the same amount of respect as anyone else.

  I didn’t know June’s story. I knew that she lied. I knew that she broke the law—at least when it came to speeding. I knew that this whole freakin’ town seemed to have a problem with her. But, that didn’t mean that she didn’t act like any other person in this world.

  You did what you had to do sometimes, and asked forgiveness later.

  At least that was how it worked in my world.

  “What project was she talking about?” the younger of the two women asked.

  “Beatrice,” Francesca said, addressing her mother informally. “You don’t know me. You also don’t get to ask questions like this. Not and continue being your indifferent self when it comes to parenting.”

  Beatrice stiffened. “Don’t speak to me like that, little girl.”

  “I just did,” Francesca countered.

  Amadea gasped. “Francesca Leandra Solomon. I do not think that is how a lady should be acting.”

  Francesca turned her haunted eyes to her grandmother. “I also don’t think you should talk badly about someone you don’t know, but that’s just me.”

  My mouth quirked, and a noise from my table had me turning my head to see the rest of our table staring at the festivities just like I had been.

  Reagan was the most enraptured, almost leaning out of her chair to get closer to the spectacle the group was making of themselves.

  “I think that it’s time for us to go,” Beatrice suggested, finally catching on that they were making spectacles of themselves.

  She stood up, but Francesca refused to follow suit. “No. I’m going to finish my dinner. I ordered a steak.”

  “You don’t get the choice here,” Beatrice all but snarled. “Get up and walk outside.”

  “Make me.”

  I bit my lip, wondering what would happen next.

  That was when Beatrice pulled out her phone like it was a sword.

  “Fine. I didn’t want to have to do this…”

  Francesca reached forward and snatched out a roll, a smile on her face a mile wide.

  “Coke? This is Beatrice. We’re at…”

  She rattled off the address and then informed her ex-husband that he needed to get down there immediately.

  Immediately was two and a half minutes later.

  Coke Solomon was dressed much the same as he was the first time I’d seen him. Dirty jeans, black t-shirt that was likely just as dirty, work boots that had grime and grease on them, and a dirty red baseball cap pulled down low over his head.

  He scanned the area once, pinpointed his daughter who was waving at him with enthusiasm and headed her way.

  He passed Tennessee and June, offered them a small smile, but continued our way.

  He walked right up to Francesca and said, “What’s wrong?”

  He looked quite concerned, which made June get up and make her way over, worry clearly evident on her face.

  June stopped just shy of actually being in the circle, which made it possible for her to hide behind a support pillar, out of view of everybody to the left of my table—the group that was about to explode as they talked about her.

  “What’s wrong is you’re allowing trashy whores around my daughter.” Beatrice shot right into the ‘problem at hand.’

  I stiffened and rose, making my way around the table and depositing myself in front of June.

  June huffed out an annoyed breath that stalled in her lungs the moment she heard what was said next.

  “I can’t believe you’d allow our Francesca to be around the town whore’s daughter. You know that June is not worthy of being anywhere near her. And frankly, I don’t see how or why you would think that this was acceptable,” Amadea announced.

  June made a sound in her throat that sounded like a wounded animal taking their deathblow.

  I reached backward and found her hand that was resting on the pillar now offering her support to stand.

  She flinched when our hands made contact, then ripped herself away.

  I frowned as I turned around to look at her, but all I got was a view of the back of her head as she hurried back toward her table.

  As she said a few things to the old man there, she patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the restaurant, leaving her clearly confused grandfather, and her half-eaten steak behind.

  I turned back around, torn between following after her and staying.

  Then a group full of men came in laughing, pointing at something over their shoulders, and I chose to go.

  Hearing this wouldn’t help.

  All it did was make me want to kick ass, not save it.

  But when I got out to the parking lot thirty seconds later, it was to see her old truck speed out of the parking lot and burning rubber as she did so.

  I watched her taillights disappear around the curve in the road that led around the building before I went back inside, but before I could even walk part way in, the door was pushed back out.

  Then I was met with Coke and Francesca hurrying out.

  “I fucking hate that bitch,” Coke muttered to himself, then stopped when he saw me.

  “You go after her?”

  I nodded. “She was gone by the time I got out here.”

  “Oh, no,” Francesca said. “That just sucks.”

  It did.

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Coke grumbled to himself. “God, I can’t believe I was ever married to that woman. What a fucking day.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I agreed. I don’t know how anybody could willingly marry someone that vile.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re thinking that I had to have known how she was before I married her, but I swear to you. I had no clue. All I had was stars in my eyes, and a deep-seated love for the woman that she used to be.”

  I smiled sadly and introduced myself. “Johnny Mackenzie.”

  “Johnny not John.” Coke offered me his hand.

  I grunted. “That’s me.”

  “Nice to meet you again,” he said as he let my hand go. “I didn’t realize that you were into hoity-toity places like this. There’s a Whataburger right down the road.”

  I grunted. “Honestly? I would’ve rather had that after the day I had. But I was roped into it by a high school friend.”

  Coke grunted, then shifted his weight. “Baby, go get in the truck whil
e I wait for your order.”

  Francesca smiled at me, then hurried to do what her father ordered.

  “You got a smart girl on your hands. I was impressed with her attitude,” I told him honestly.

  Coke’s lips twitched. “She’s a good girl. Her mother’s not. Nor is her grandmother. But she’s got enough of me in her to balance out the crazy.”

  I chuckled. “I can tell. Well, I’m sorry to have to see you under these circumstances, but I’m being rude to my friends.”

  Coke offered his hand one more time. “Have a good one.”

  Then he walked back inside with me. He went to the hostess stand while I continued on to our table, laughing when I saw the sour expressions on both women’s faces at the table over from ours.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Janie said as I arrived back at my seat. “I didn’t realize this much went on in Jefferson. I should visit more often.”

  “You visit it a lot,” Rafe pointed out. “The dividing city limit line between Hostel and Jefferson is wonky. You probably visit Jefferson a lot more than you think. This place is just a hotbed of activity. It’s one of the only nice restaurants in the area, and where everyone seems to visit when they’re doing something that requires dressing up.”

  The dinner continued like that, but all I could think about was June and the way she looked as she hurried out of the restaurant.

  Even worse, I had to watch her grandfather finish his dinner by himself, while he cast worried glances toward the door, unaware that his granddaughter’s heart had been broken in half by two snotty women.

  And, all that kept going through my brain was that I had my own problems to fix. I couldn’t fix somebody else’s…could I?

  Chapter 6

  Those little blinking lights at the beginning of school zones are to help grab your attention. They are not there to shoot because they interrupted your sleep.

  -Hostel PD FB page

  June

  Everything inside of me screamed not to go.

  After last night? I didn’t think anyone, not even Coke, would blame me.

  But I kept moving.

  I thought about the depleted state of my bank account, and I kept my foot on the accelerator.

  And each time I felt like turning around, I’d remind myself that I had shit to pay for, and twelve dollars and ninety-two cents wasn’t gonna cut it.

  Like my car insurance. Or gas for my vehicle.

  Or hell, an oil change.

  Then there were those stupid tickets I’d gotten in the truck.

  Maybe I should just get rid of the vehicle and walk? That would save me at least three hundred dollars a month. Technically the trip from the apartment I shared with Amanda to the salvage yard was only a mile and a half at most. That would be three miles a day total.

  If it rained, I could call Amanda.

  The idea kept my brain occupied as I drove the rest of the way to Coke’s place and pulled into the driveway.

  My eyes scanned the parking lot automatically, and I was happy to see only Coke’s truck in the parking lot.

  I got out and spread my fingers as I smoothed my hands down my jeans.

  At my interview and subsequent hiring, Coke had explained that I could wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. What was not negotiable, however, was footwear. I had to wear boots because there would be times that I’d be going out to the impound lot or the salvage yard, and there were hazards everywhere out there.

  I looked down at my boots.

  I loved my boots.

  They weren’t steel-toed, though.

  They’d do until I could find some, however.

  At least, that was what Coke said.

  He said after my first six weeks, I’d be given a stipend to buy boots—since it was his only requirement at the job. I couldn’t thank him enough. I couldn’t even afford groceries. Boots would be almost impossible to cough the money up for right now.

  I licked my lips and groaned.

  I wanted to go to work the next morning like I wanted to stub my toe on the coffee table for the eighteen millionth time.

  Yet, I pulled my big girl panties up and stepped into the front office of Coke Salvage with a grim determination stiffening my spine.

  The moment I stepped inside, I felt a shiver of fear trickle down my spine, and it wasn’t because it was cold as fuck in the office.

  Coke Solomon was an intimidating man, and looking at him sitting behind his desk, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a scowl on his face as he held up papers and scanning them. Yeah, I wanted to turn around and leave just as quickly as I’d come.

  “H-hello,” I said softly. Meekly.

  Coke’s eyes lifted, unsurprised at my arrival.

  “Glad you came,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up for your first day or not.”

  I bit my lip.

  I hadn’t been either, to be honest. The entire drive there I’d had one hand on my turn signal to pull a U-turn and go back the way I came.

  Now, looking at Coke, I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision.

  But then his face softened.

  “I don’t know if you know about my ex-wife and I or not…”

  I shook my head. Then winced.

  “I know a little bit,” I admitted.

  He grunted. “If it’s only a little bit, you’ve only heard the lies that Beatrice spread to make it sound like I was the one in the wrong when we divorced.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up his hand.

  “Normally, I don’t like airing my dirty laundry,” he admitted. “But, after what happened last night, I feel like it’s owed to you.”

  I stayed silent, clutched my jacket tighter around my chest, and stared at him while waiting to hear what he thought I needed to hear.

  He didn’t hesitate, just broke right into his explanation.

  “Beatrice and I met when we were in our senior year of high school. I was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and she was the good girl who wanted to defy her daddy.”

  I winced.

  “We met, and she convinced herself that dating me, the poorest boy in six counties, was the perfect way to piss off her strict father. She even went so far as to convince me that she loved me. Me, not realizing that she was just a bitch who was playing me, thought I had hit the jackpot. Beatrice was beautiful, wealthy and loved me. What more could a boy like me ask for?”

  Since I knew this story didn’t have a happy ending, I looked down at the floor instead of at the emotion now boiling deep in Coke’s eyes.

  “The one and only time we slept together in high school, I fucked up and got her pregnant. Though, I didn’t learn until much later that she intended for that to happen. She thought that if she was pregnant, her father wouldn’t make her go to school. She wanted to be the trophy wife—but she also wanted a hot boy toy on the side. That boy toy was me. Unfortunately for her, and for me, her father forced us to marry.”

  I bit my lip and looked back up at him with pity.

  Beatrice, from what little I knew of her, was a bitch. There was no sugar coating it—she literally was the worst person on Earth.

  When you passed her, she treated you as though you were the lint at the bottom of a dryer vent.

  “Anyway, long story short, I was forced to live with her for years trying to make shit work. Shit that she didn’t want to work, and she sabotaged by being her shitty self. Trash talk her daughter? She didn’t care. Treat her kid and her husband like shit? As long as it didn’t hurt her, no problem. She fucked everyone under the sun, then blamed me because I cheated.”

  I sighed. “Did you cheat?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Can you blame me?”

  No. After what he’d explained? Hell no. I sure the hell couldn’t. But, two wrongs didn’t make a right.

  “I didn’t actually cheat on her, though,” he admitted. “I got cl
ose to someone, and Beatrice took offense to that because she was a student at a college and was ‘too young to be discreet’ according to Beatrice. She threw a walleyed fit, and I decided that I’d rather face her father’s wrath, and the possibility of him taking away my business, rather than be with her any longer.”

  “Did he take your business?” I inquired.

  Coke shook his head. “No. Her father really hates his wife, Amadea, and Beatrice. He thinks they’re both stuck-up shits, and he doesn’t really want anything to do with them. But since his millions were made when he and Amadea were together, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from the marriage unscathed. And, since he doesn’t want to give her half of everything he owns, he stays with her. But, he makes it more than clear that he wants nothing to do with either one of them. Apparently, I was what made it tolerable to be around his daughter.”

  My brows rose. “You have a bromance with your ex-father-in-law?”

  Coke grunted and stood up. “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, after the divorce, anything that has to do with me—including people that work for me—are fair game to Beatrice. I’m sorry. I probably should’ve warned you of that.”

  I walked farther into the room.

  “She’s not the first one, and she won’t be the last,” I admitted. “My parents are trash. I’m not…but for a few years there, I had a chip on my shoulder, and I hated everyone and everything. I also did some things that were not so good because I wanted my parents’ attention. Needless to say, I never got their attention, but what I did get was a juvenile record.”

  He grunted. “I think everyone has a juvenile record,” he admitted. “Or would have one if they had been caught.”

  That, I agreed with.

  “So where do you want me to start?” I questioned.

  He pointed to his desk. “I have a shit ton of files there that need to go away, so for now, start with that. Once you’re done, come find me in the salvage yard. I have to go get a motor out of a truck for a pick-up. Do you know anything about tools?”