by KB Winters
“Thanks, Tank.” I ran my fingers along the cuts in the leather, the rough edges that spelled out the despicable word.
“It’s not true, you know.”
I nodded, gulping back the lump in my throat. “I know,” I replied, my voice barely over a whisper.
He came and set his huge arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go check with Dean and I’ll get you a drink.”
I let him take me inside the bar and he led me into the back office. He introduced me to Dean, the security officer that was on hand in case things got out of control. I had seen him breaking up fights before, but we had never officially been introduced. I sat next to him at his desk while he scanned through the footage from the camera that Tank had pointed out in the alleyway. It played out on one of the split screens on the monitor on rapid speed. I tried to keep up, but it was just making my head hurt even worse than before. As I sat and watched, it was all I could do to keep a fresh batch of tears at bay. I hadn’t been embarrassed to break down in front of Tank. He’d known me long enough to know that’s not how I normally am—but I didn’t want everyone else that wandered by to see me have a meltdown.
I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but for some reason it did, so I took deep breaths and held my shit together.
“There!” I jumped up and pointed wildly at the screen. Dean froze the video and I could clearly see Marx walking away from the building, in the direction of the alley. Unfortunately, the angle wasn’t the best and I couldn’t really see his face, but I knew the walk, the hair, what he had been wearing that night. It was definitely him.
“Let’s go forward and see if we can catch a better shot,” Dean said, starting to move the video forward in half speed.
I sat on the edge of my seat, fingers tapping the plastic chair at a rapid pace until Dean cast me a sidelong glance and I stopped, curling my nails into my palms to control the nervous habit.
The camera showed Marx entering the alley, but that was it. The bike was in somewhat of a blind spot and Marx had kept his face down the whole time, as if aware he was being watched, so there was never a clear shot.
I groaned and flopped back in the chair. “Fuck.”
“Tough break,” was all Dean said.
What.
A.
Teddy.
Bear.
I shot him an irritated look. “Tough break? Do you know how much it’s going to cost to replace that seat? It’s your whole job to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen!” I could hear my voice getting pitchy and hysterical, but I couldn’t reel it in. All the stress of the last two days compounded and it was going to get unleashed on someone.
Dean’s face remained stone cold but he crossed his arms. “My job is to protect this bar and the people inside it and I do a damn good job dealing with you and your kind, who wanna come in here and tear the place up every weekend.”
“Me and my kind?” I repeated, unsure I had heard him right. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I jumped up out of my seat, my fists tightening.
Dean stood up. His six foot plus build hulking over me, forcing me to take a step backwards. “Tank! Come get your girl,” he shouted.
Within seconds, Tank stepped into the room, took one look at Dean’s face and grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me out of the room. It felt a little like the shepherd’s hook dragging a bad performer off the stage right before the rotten tomatoes start to fly.
“What the hell, Allie?” Tank asked once we were back in the main bar area and out of Dean’s earshot. “What did you do? He usually saves that face for the nightmare customers.”
“Oh, you mean me and my kind?”
He looked confused.
I shrugged it off. “Whatever. I just need to get Cherry Bomb home. At least she’s still rideable.”
“Yeah. Let me know when you’re ready to get a new seat. One of the guys here does custom stuff. He’s really good and he would probably give you a good deal.”
I laughed. “Well, unless it costs five dollars and seventy-two cents, it’s going to be out of my price range for awhile.” I had checked my bank account balance that morning and the number was still haunting me.
How had I ended up here?
“I could loan you the money, since it was my fault in the first place. I thought it would be safer in the alley.”
“No, no. Tank, this is one hundred percent not your fault. Thank you, though,” I smiled up at him, doing my best to offer some reassurance. “It’s all good. I’ll figure it out and when I’m ready, I’ll give you a holler.”
“All right. You gonna stick around tonight? We have some band coming in a little later. Should be pretty good.”
I shook my head. “No, I need to get home and sleep off this headache. Tank, seriously, never let me drink as much as I did last night, ever again. I don’t care how much I beg.”
“Deal.” He laughed. “See ya around, then.”
“See ya.” I turned away from the bar and strode out the front doors. Once outside, I took a deep breath and then rounded the corner to get back to Cherry Bomb. I grabbed my helmet and placed it over my head, fixed the straps, and climbed onto the bike, ignoring the way the rough edges where it was cut dug into my ass through my jeans as I rode away.
I rode around town for a while, ignoring the fact that I couldn’t afford to fill up the gas tank, so what was left was all I had for the foreseeable future. But it felt good to be free and the rushing of the wind and the noises of the bike was enough to—mostly— drown out the panic bubbling up inside my mind. I knew it was only prolonging the inevitable. As soon as things got quiet again, I’d likely get buried in an avalanche, but for now, it was good to unplug.
I went downtown and rode along the waterfront for a while and then crossed over and weaved around the one way streets to get me back to the freeway. At one point, I had to turn left, and as I turned the corner and looked ahead, I saw the Brighton Enterprises building up ahead of me.
“Ugh!” I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going. The absolute last thing I needed was for Cooper to find me lurking around his office. But then I remembered that Cooper wouldn’t recognize me even if I was parked next to his fancy ass car at a stoplight. With my leather jacket, riding boots, and helmet on, it was just as good as being invisible to him. I could pull up next to him, rev my engine, and make a complete scene and he would never know. I laughed at the thought before peeling out onto the next street and blazing down the road.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. I pulled Cherry Bomb into the same spot as my car and nestled the bike against the front bumper so it was covered by the carport. The complex charges an extra fee to have a separate spot, and it was out of my budget to have two spaces. Of the two vehicles, I would rather ride my bike everywhere, but the weather doesn’t allow for that and then certain outfits would also be tricky. The idea of trying to get on my bike in one of my pencil skits was slightly comical. So for now, I needed the junky used car I bought back in high school. Although now that I was unemployed, it might come down to having to sell Cherry Bomb to get by. I glanced over and knew that there was no way I could ever go through with it, and now with the giant carving in the seat, it would be virtually impossible to find a buyer.
I finished locking the bike to the carport post and then headed back to my apartment, gingerly jogging up the stairs. When I reached the front door I was panting for breath and mentally reminded myself that I now had all the time in the world to hit the gym.
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. I had grabbed the mail before heading upstairs, and started to sift through it as I stepped into the kitchen. One of them didn’t have a stamp and just had my name and address printed on the front. I dumped the other letters on the counter and opened that one first.
Allison Rand,
This letter is to inform you that if all back months of rent are not paid in full by April 24th, we will be forced to start the eviction process
.
Sincerely,
Riverside Apartment and Condo Management Division
“Shit, shit, shit!” I threw the letter down on the counter on top of the stack of mostly unopened mail that was piling up. I knew I was a month behind, and that it wasn’t the first time I’d gotten behind, but I’d always come through at the last minute. This time, though…I had no idea how to make that happen. I felt like crying, but no tears would come.
I turned around and saw the glass from Cooper’s so-called miracle hangover cure and the whole scene replayed in my head. I picked up the glass and dumped all the congealed-looking liquid down the sink and slammed the cup on the counter, fighting hard to resist the urge to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces.
Chapter Four
The next week passed by in the blink of an eye, even though it seemed that the days themselves moved slowly. In the end, I had managed to duct tape the seat on Cherry Bomb so that I could at least go out riding. It was a good stress reliever if nothing else. In the past week, I had gone on two job interviews, but was still waiting to hear anything back on Friday afternoon.
I was pacing around my dining room table, thinking, when the phone rang. I rushed across the kitchen to answer but stalled out when I saw my mom’s name and picture pop up on the screen. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to her, but then again, maybe she would have some motherly words of advice that could help calm my nerves.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered, sinking down onto one of the dining table chairs.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she chirped back and I could picture her face. “How’s life in the big city?”
It had been a little over a year since I had moved to “the big city” from the small town in Kansas that I grew up in. It was only a few hours by plane and I knew Mom and Dad would pay for the ticket, but I hadn’t managed to make it home in quite some time. I kept meaning to, but when I worked at the coffee shop, I picked up as many shifts as I could—which meant working most every weekend and sometimes really odd hours. But listening to the smile in my mom’s voice was making me feel a little guilty about not making the time. I knew she and my dad missed me and wished that I would settle down and come home again.
“It’s good,” I lied, fighting the urge to unpack all my current problems and cry to her. “How are you and Daddy?””
“Oh, we’re just fine, darling. Your dad is out playing golf with some friends from church. So I’m catching up on some things here around the house and figured I would give you a call and see if I could chat with you, now that you’re not working all the time on the weekends.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to tell her about losing the job. It would open up a whole box of questions that I didn’t have answers to, but I hated lying to my parents. It always felt like living a double life or something. Growing up, it had been hard enough. They never approved of the way I dressed, the people I associated with, or the hours I would keep. When I was younger, they had kept a tight leash on me to keep me from going off the deep end—or at least their version of the deep end. I can still remember telling my parents when I got my first tattoo. I had never seen them look more devastated before and it was a memory that would haunt me forever. I had never set out to hurt them. I was only trying to express myself and be free.
As their only girl, it should have been up to me to live up to all their dreams and expectations for me. I always felt like I had fallen short. My two brothers were a lot older than I was and had made it in this world—by my parent’s standards, anyway. ‘Drew was a firefighter and Jake was a high paid sports attorney working for the Royals or the Chiefs, I could never remember which one. It was part of the reason I’d left home in the first place. The weight of their disappointment had been too much to take on a daily basis. I wanted to be free to live on my own terms, and I knew that would never happen with them constantly looking over my shoulder.
I always figured that eventually, I would get my shit together and make them proud of me.
“So much for that plan,” I whispered.
“What was that honey?”
“Oh nothing, nothing. Listen, Mom, I have to tell you something. The job at the ad agency didn’t work out as well as I had thought. I actually was let go, last Friday.” There, I had said it, I pinched my eyes closed and waited.
“Well, that’s a shame. What happened?”
“I wasn’t the right fit,” I answered, hoping that would be vague enough that she would sense I didn’t want to talk about it further.
“Hmmm. So what’s next?”
“I had a couple interviews earlier this week, so I’m waiting for a call back. Something will work out,” I assured her, infusing a confidence to my tone that I wasn’t sure came out as genuine.
My mother didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Well, you know, honey, you always have a home here. I could talk to Greg, down at the grocery store. I just saw a hiring sign up in his window last week.”
I shuddered at the suggestion. There was no doubt Greg would give me a job if I asked, He was a full-fledged creeper. I had never personally had an issue with him, but several of my high school girlfriends had told me plenty about his habit of inappropriate touching of both them, and himself, when they worked at the store after school or in the summertime. I was surprised my mom hadn’t heard the rumors firsthand. Then again, she tended to live in her own little world, blocking out most of the world around her, especially the darker sides.
A shiver crept up my spine, the edge of a memory of my own encounters in the small town.
“Thanks, Mom, but I’m okay. I think one of these jobs will work out. Don’t worry about me,” I said, forcing the memories from my mind.
I could tell she wanted to push me harder, to plead her case further, but thankfully, she dropped it and changed the subject to a safer topic and we chatted away for about half an hour before saying our goodbyes.
Once we hung up, I sat down on my couch and flicked on the TV, desperately needing the noise to drown out my brewing anxiety attack. It was Friday night but nothing worth watching was on. I realized that I probably needed to call the cable company and have them shut it off anyways. One less bill to worry about. I looked at the clock and debated going down to Steelrods. At least I knew I could drink for free, since Tank was always working the bar on Friday nights. But after last Friday’s fiasco I was a little hesitant to go out and do that whole thing again. I wondered if Hannah and Jett were going to be there, if that still even a thing. Judging by how quickly he had moved on from dry humping my ass to making out with Hannah in a bathroom, it didn’t exactly scream long term commitment.
Personally, I had never been a fan of the one-night deal. Sure, there were boys in high school that I messed around with, but Marx had actually been my first real boyfriend and first a lot of other things.
I closed my eyes, doing my best to keep those thoughts far, far in the back of my mind where they belonged.
My current policy was that if a guy wasn’t willing to woo me in some way, I wasn’t going to get it on with him, no matter how hard up I might be feeling. So far, I had been doing just fine. Granted, I hadn’t really even given anyone the time of day since the whole Marx implosion.
Well, except for Cooper.
“Ugh!” I flopped over, face down into the plushy couch cushions.
I lay there for a few minutes, slowly suffocating in cat fur, before I decided that I was truly in danger of becoming Mrs. Havisham if I didn’t get up and out of this apartment immediately.
I called Hannah, and sure enough, she was out with Jett. I listened to her gush about him for a few minutes before wrapping up the call, mentally swishing around some brain bleach to rid myself of her play-by-play report of how good he was in bed.
“Sam, just be glad you’re a cat and you don’t have friends who don’t know the meaning of TMI. Ugh,” I said to Sam. He meowed in agreement and I refilled his food dish. “What do you think? Should we go back to Kansas? My mom would p
robably try to fatten you up with chicken scraps. You’d like it.”
He meowed again and rubbed against my leg before digging into his dish and munching the kibble.
I thought about Kansas for a few minutes longer, wondering what had changed in the last few years. Wondering if certain people still lived there. Lord knew there were people in that town I never wanted to see again. One in particular. I shuddered at the thought.
“No, Sam, we are never going back to Kansas.”
I patted his head and then started to dial the next person on my mental list. Now that the Pandora’s Box of bad memories had been opened, it became even more essential for me to get out.
“Hello?” Bryce answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Bryce!”
“Who is this?”
“Uh—it’s Allie,” I answered, my brow wrinkled. I was confused by his confusion.
“Oh! Hey! Sorry about that, I had to get a new phone and for whatever reason, all my contacts were lost.”
“Oh, what happened?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, but I got demoted at Spotlight and Rita now owns my ass. As you can imagine, my life has been a waking nightmare, and a couple days ago I threw my phone out the window…of my car…when I was on the freeway.”
I winced. “Yikes. I’m so sorry, Bryce!”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll figure something out. So what about you? Any leads?”
“Not yet. I had a couple interviews this week, but still waiting for a call back. It’s all beginning to feel a little hopeless.”
“Now, don’t be like that. Something will work out.”
“Thanks,” I replied, remaining unconvinced.
“Allie, listen to me. Do you know why I hired you?”
It wasn’t something we had formally discussed, but I had always figured it was because he knew I was looking for a new job, someplace I could make more money, and he had an opening.