I sit down and look at my computer screen. I used to love getting emails. It would mean I’m either going to connect with someone I know or getting hired to do a job. Now that I decided to leave my past behind, the ping of an email sends my blood pressure skyward. I really should change my email address. I suppose on some level I’m not ready to say goodbye forever.
My inbox contains six messages; one is from my sister Ava. She says she misses me and wants me to call her when I get settled. One is from my mother, who only says to call her. One is from my dad. I delete it before I read a single word. One is junk; it’s an advertisement for that little blue pill that seems so popular these days. I would need an emergency room if my man had an erection for four hours. The commercial says if you experience that; seek medical advice. No shit. The fifth message is from him. I know I shouldn’t open it, but I can’t help it. I click open and see vile words spew across the page. My heart skips a beat, then races to catch up.
Dear,
That’s a funny greeting…dear. It reminds me of you that morning when I took everything away—a deer in the headlights. You thought we had it made. I was running your daddy’s company, and you were dabbling in your cute little computer craft. In the end, I got rid of you, got away with murder, and got half of your family assets.
Cheers,
Tyler
I’m gutted by this email. I tried so hard to bring charges against him. I was battling him and my father at the same time. He was threatening me, and my dad was more concerned with losing his business than losing me. In the end, he lost both. Tyler ended up the victor because, in our legal system, you can’t be tried twice. It just goes to prove justice isn’t always served.
By the time it was said and done, I had walked away with nothing but myself. What he took from me can never be replaced, but in the end I still have me. My only hope is to move forward. Physically, I have healed, but mentally, I don’t know if I will ever be okay.
I scroll through the last message and see Lone Star Development has hired me to do some independent contracting for them. I put in a bid before I left L.A. They need some code written for a project, and I’m the girl to do it. I shoot off an email and tell them I will begin the work on Monday. The money is good, and the flexibility is important at this point in my life. I can work from anywhere. I figure if I get three or four jobs a year, I can live a good life.
I type a quick message to my sister, telling her I’m fine. I have no idea what my long-term plans are, but I finally feel I can breathe. I struggle with the message to my mom; she wasn’t the most supportive person when I was going through my crisis. She was more worried about whether she and my dad would land on their feet. I write that I’m doing well and will contact her in the future.
I take my beer and walk into the bathroom. This body isn’t used to manual labor, and being on my feet for over eight hours a day is killing me. I turn the hot water on high in the tub and pour the tiny bottle of shampoo under the stream; it’s the only thing I have on hand to create bubbles. The heat from the water rises and fogs the mirror. I turn on the cold tap and blend it in with the hot before I strip off my clothes and slip one leg at a time into the bathtub.
The heated water soothes my tired feet and legs. My manicure is a mess, and my hands are beginning to crack from two days of washing them all the time. I have never been so tired, but I have also never felt so content. I have loved every minute of getting to know the townspeople. In a big city like Los Angeles, you don’t get the opportunity to get to know people well. Everyone is so busy trying to make a living; they never actually live their life.
I’ve watched the desire for money destroy people. It was all Tyler wanted. He had a goal, and he went after it. In the process, he destroyed many lives; he nearly destroyed mine, too.
I sip my beer and think about Zane. The man is an enigma. He is generous with his money, but he seems short on time. He obviously has little respect for women, because he pays for their services, and yet I think maybe it’s better that way for him. He is a surly, bossy man. What kind of mate could he be? He’s got to be swamped running his business. I believe it would be tough to have a relationship when you have such a crazy job.
His clientele seems rough at first glance, but after two days of working, I see they are just normal people trying to live authentic lives. I like my hair long, and so do many of the men who frequent Last Resort. I wear jeans, and so do they, although many accessorize with leather chaps. I pierce my ears, and so do many of the people I serve. I bet they pierce many things. They have body art, and I—well, I am thinking about it. I’ve noticed a few tattoos on the women I’ve met that are really pretty. Some were willing to share the stories of their art with me. One woman nearly lost her life from a ruptured gallbladder; the emergency surgery left a massive scar. She pulled up her shirt to show me a beautiful tattoo of a phoenix rising from the ashes. The wings hide her scar; her tattoo has meaning. She relates to the bird.
I toss back the remainder of my beer and climb out of the lukewarm water. I dry my body, apply lotion, don my pajamas and climb into bed. Just before I fall asleep, I remember I need to plug in the phone Zane gave me. I need to let him know I’m not destitute. I make good money, and I can buy a phone.
I must come across as down on my luck in my second-hand jeans and old used car. I just want to step out of my comfort zone, and living thriftily is part of my plan.
I climb out of bed and open the box. Inside are the phone, the charging cable, and a note.
Alexa,
To keep you safe.
Zane
How sweet is that? He intrigues me and unsettles me at the same time. My experience with men is limited to my ex-husband, my father, and the few dates I had before college. High school boys were harmless. My father is a huge disappointment of a man, and Tyler…well, he…he’s the devil. So, I don’t know what to make of Zane. He’s generous but callous. So confusing.
Chapter Three
I wake to a soft rapping against my door. My achy feet take a minute to adjust as I shift my weight and stand. I sleepily walk to the door. Trudy stands outside next to her stocked housekeeping cart.
“Mornin’, Alexa. Do you want your room cleaned today?”
I look back into my room, as if it’s going to answer for me. The king-sized bed sits with only half of it mussed up. If I want clean sheets, I can sleep on the other half.
“No, all I need are some fresh towels. If I can get those, then I think I’m good.”
“All right, then,” she says as she reaches into her cart and pulls out two bath towels, a hand towel, and a washcloth. “Do you need shampoo?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a bottle. It makes a good bubble bath. How are you, Trudy?” I ask as she reaches into her plastic bucket to retrieve the shampoo I requested.
“I’m good, sweets. I wake up every mornin’, and that’s a good start to the day. I hear you’re working over at the Resort. How is Zane treatin’ you?”
“He’s been good to me. I’m just helping out until Todd finishes repairing my car, and then I’m out of here.”
“Well, it’s been nice having you here. It’s not such a bad place to be. You should think about stayin’ on for a bit. I hear that you’re a mighty fine waitress. That’s gotta be a bonus for Zane after what he put up with from the last girl. That man’s just too nice. Most people would fire a person if they showed up late repeatedly, but not him. He’s just too nice.”
“Well, Zane is an interesting man. I can’t say that we’ve had much time to talk. He always seems to be running around like his hair is on fire. He pays me a fair wage, and he feeds me, so I would say he has been good to me.” I wouldn’t call him particularly nice, but I have no reason to believe differently.
“He’s one of the finest men I know, and I know a lot of men. Most aren’t worth rubbing two nickels together for, but Zane…he’s a good one.”
“I should go shower and eat my bagel. I have to be at the bar at noon. Don’t
work too hard, Trudy. Have a nice day.”
“Same to you, darlin’.”
I close the door but hear the creak of the housekeeping cart’s wheels as she makes her way down the walkway.
I ponder her comments about Zane being a good man for a minute. I obviously use a different scale to measure upstanding behavior. In a small town, maybe pouring drinks down people’s throats and banging their daughters in exchange for a few twenties is acceptable. Hell, when I think about it, my dad wasn’t much different. He pretty much sold me to the highest bidder, who happened to be Tyler.
Tyler did his homework. I have to give him credit for that. He knew what company he wanted to work for. Why wouldn’t he want to work for my dad’s company, Alliance Space Technologies? It traded publicly, was worth millions, and my dad had no sons.
I remember our first date. He was the grader for my Calc II class. He handed me back my paper one day, and next to my “A” was a note that said, “Meet me for dinner.” At the bottom of my paper were his number and the word, “please.”
How can you turn that down? He was cute and charming, and we seemed to hit it off right away. He insisted on meeting my parents by our third date. From that point on, he became a permanent part of our family. My mom planned the wedding before he even proposed. I got sucked in. I didn’t notice the signs; in fact, there weren’t many. He was really good at manipulation, an incredibly smart sociopath. Over a period of four years, he wheedled his way into my heart and family. He got my dad to make him a stock holding partner, and then everything changed. He treated me differently. I was no longer treasured or made to feel as if I had value. I didn’t feel like the intelligent, self-assured woman I’d grown up to feel. In fact, I felt as if my own value had decreased as time went on and my self-worth depended solely on him.
Looking at the clock, I realize I have spent way too much time dwelling on the past. It’s eleven-fifteen, and I still need a shower.
I slink into the front door with only five minutes to go until my shift starts. Zane is behind the bar, loading a fresh cash drawer into the register.
“Good morning, Alexa. How did you sleep?” He smiles broadly at me. I don’t think I have ever seen him smile. He has perfectly straight, sparkling white teeth.
“I slept well, thanks. What about you?”
He laughs a bit and shakes his head, as if he’s entertaining some private joke. “I haven’t slept through the night in months.” He picks up his coffee and takes a sip. That’s all I’ve ever seen him drink. He pounds back cup after cup every day.
“Maybe you should cut back on the caffeine. You would be able to sleep better if you didn’t consume gallons of the stuff.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. I see the corner of his mouth twitch, and I think maybe he’s going to grace me with another smile, but instead he just shakes his head and says, “If only it were that easy.”
“It is easy, just switch to caffeine free or drink something else. Hell, you own a bar; have a glass of wine to relax. I find one drink before I go to bed helps me sleep like a baby.”
“Have you seen many babies sleep lately?”
He smiles at me. I frown at him. The subject of babies is a sore one for me.
At twelve o’clock, our first customer walks in. He pulls off his leather vest and slaps it on the table. I walk over and get his order.
“What can I get you?” I ask.
“I’ll have a Bud, and the old lady will have a whiskey and soda. Is Bud in the back cookin’?”
“Yep, I believe he is. Did you want something to eat?” I inquire. I stand there, holding my pad of paper, waiting on him to decide. He’s an older man with two earrings in one ear and a big American flag tattooed on his bicep. I tap my toe with impatience before he finally tells me, “Tell Bud Hank wants his regular, chili cheese fries, with extra onion.”
“I’ll let him know.” I turn to the bar and call out my drink order to Zane. I walk through to the kitchen and slap my order on the counter for Bud.
“Tell Hank hello, would ya’, Lexi?” He smiles at me. It’s as if he likes getting under my skin.
“It’s Alexa, and I’d be happy to pass along your greeting.” I leave the kitchen to pick up my drink order. “Thanks,” I tell Zane as I pick up the drinks and walk them to the table.
Hank’s wife has arrived. She’s an average looking, normal person. She isn’t wearing leather, has no tats, and has a single piercing in each ear. She reminds of my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Klause.
“Here you go,” I say as I place the drinks in front of my first two customers of the day. “Bud says hello.”
I turn around and head back to the bar. Zane is staring at me.
“What? You’re always staring at me. What’s wrong now? Did I age fifteen years since yesterday because of my sunburn? I couldn’t help getting burned. I was stranded in hell for nearly three hours. When you get that hot, you’re going to get burned.”
“Are you always this grumpy, or just with me? Watch the counter,” he demands as he walks up the stairs two at a time. I wonder what’s up there, an office, storeroom, maybe a love shack?
My thoughts are deferred by the arrival of a large group. They file through the door and take seats around three of the pub tables. Perfect, he leaves and I get swamped.
I plaster a fake smile on my face and trot on over to take their order.
“Hi, what can I get you today?”
I look around the group and play the name game to take my mind off Zane’s last comment. Was I grumpy? He’s the grumpy one, always barking out orders. I don’t need this shit. I thought working here would occupy my time and mind until I get to where I’m going.
“Did you get all that?” the grizzled old man standing in front of me asks. He reminds me of Grizzly Adams, so I mentally call him Adam.
“Uh, no, I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
I smile at the bearded man and give him my full attention. How embarrassing, my mind was so preoccupied, I didn’t hear anything he said.
“I think it came out to two Buds, three Bud lights, two shots of Jack and three wheat beers with lemon slices. We would also like fifty hot wings and an order of fries and rings.”
“All right, I got it. By the way, what’s your name?” I wait to hear his answer.
“It’s Abrahm. What’s yours?”
“I’m Alexa, and it’s my pleasure to meet you. I’ll have your order up in a few minutes.”
As I walk away, I give myself a mental high-five. At least I got the first letter to his name right. I had a one in twenty-six chance. The odds were not in my favor.
Just as I’m pouring the last beer, I see Zane appear from the mysterious room upstairs.
“What else do you need?”
He places his hands on my hips as he passes behind me. His large hands almost circle my waist as he moves me aside. I kind of like the feel of his hands on me. Maybe those girls are getting the better end of the deal. They get paid and get his hands on them.
“Alexa, where are you?”
“You don’t want to know.”
I gather my drinks on one tray and heft it up to my shoulder. I maneuver through the bar and sit the heavy tray successfully on the table in front of my customers.
“Your food should be out in a few minutes. Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope, we are all set. Bring us another round in fifteen minutes.”
“Will do.” I pick up my tray and head back to the bar.
“It shouldn’t be as busy today. Sunday is all about the little rushes. We have a lot of biker groups stopping by, so they come in clusters, but intermittently.”
“All right.”
I reach around him to pick up a wet soapy rag out of the bucket. I want to wipe down the tables. I inhale the scent of him as my face passes his shirt. He always smells like he’s just showered. It’s soap, leather and something almost sweet. I’ve smelled it before, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Do you alwa
ys smell this good?”
“I don’t know if I smell good, but I showered a little while ago. I’m glad I don’t stink,” he replies, with a chuckle buried in his response
Blushing at my lack of tact, I work around him. He takes the cloth from my hand and tells me to relax.
“You’re a hard worker. Are you sure you haven’t waited tables before? You act like you have done it all your life.” In the background, the Juke Box plays AC/DC “Back in Black”.
“Nope, this is a first for me. I’ve entertained at my house, so I know how to make people relax and feel comfy, but I’ve never been a waitress.”
I look at him and can almost see the wheels turn in his head. His expression is thoughtful and questioning. His right eye is twitching a bit.
“What’s your story?” He walks around the bar and sits at one of the empty stools. Just as I begin to answer him, the cowbell rings.
“That bell is for me,” I say. “Can you pour me another round?”
I walk toward the kitchen, and he heads for the taps. By the time I come out with the wings, onion rings, fries and condiments, he has already delivered the drinks.
“I’m not sharing my tip with you,” I tease.
“That’s all right, I make a decent living on my own. So tell me, what’s your story?”
He is persistent if nothing else. Each time I can’t or don’t answer the question, he just asks again.
“I don’t have a story. What do you mean? I’m just a girl who is figuring some things out.”
“I get that, but who is this girl with the fifty-dollar manicure, wearing Walmart jeans? I’ve been trying to figure you out for a few days.” He leans on the bar with his chin on his steepled fingers.
“Well, contrary to your initial perception, I’m not down on my luck. I have a job. I’m a computer programmer. I do contract work. I also owe you for a phone.” I cock my head and smile.
“Why did you say yes to working here, then?”
“Like I had a choice. You told me I owed you. You tossed an apron at me and disappeared.” I raise my eyes and scrunch my mouth.
True North Page 3