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“Yes.” I nodded. A bobblehead doll on a dashboard had more freedom of movement than I felt like I did.
“Good. I value Miranda’s judgment. She likes you.”
“And I like her.”
“I like you, my dear.” The way he said that while trailing his gaze over me made my flesh crawl. His eyes narrowed. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“I get it.” I lifted my chin. “But I have a boyfriend.”
His eyes flashed. “Collin is just a boy.”
“Still—”
“Would you like it if I moved ABCR to Saturday night?” he asked abruptly.
“Yes, of course I would.”
“Then you will indulge me your time.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” He cut me off with a sharp gesture. “While you’re here inside my club, you will defer to me. If ABCR continues to bring in the numbers that they did tonight, you and I will renegotiate terms. You will want me in an agreeable frame of mind should it come to that point, understand?”
“All right.” What else could I say?
I stood and went to the door. My footsteps were steady, but inside I was shaken.
“One more thing, Addy,” he said just as my fingers closed around the doorknob.
“Yes.” I glanced at him over my shoulder, and his gaze rose slowly. He’d been checking out my ass.
“Don’t displease me,” he said, his expression hard. “People who displease me suffer unpleasant consequences. I’m a man, not a boy you can easily manipulate. I don’t play childish games. I mean what I say.”
Five months later
Work sucked. Arriving late for my shift at Dick’s Drive-In, I was irritable and distracted.
Before I’d left the apartment that day, my mother and I had a screaming match about her creepy friends and her drug use. Things had gotten so bad, she was on probation at her job, reducing her income. Even with the household bills on automatic payment, all were overdue with not enough money coming in to cover them.
I’d started taking every available extra shift I could, but I couldn’t make up the shortfall. I feared what would happen if we were evicted from our apartment. In other words, nothing was new, just worse.
Over the past several months, ABCR had risen in popularity like a shooting star, but my situation at home had plummeted like a meteoroid barreling toward Earth.
“Miss.” The guy in the driver’s seat of an old Cadillac parked in a drive-in space made eye contact with me, crooking his fingers though his rolled-down window.
“Yes.” I pasted on a smile. Stopping beside his vehicle, I tried not to think about my aching feet. “How can I help you?”
“You got my order wrong. I ordered a vanilla shake.” He tilted his red-and-white cup at me so I could see inside. “This is chocolate.”
“I’m so sorry.” I’d put vanilla on the order, but the kitchen had gotten it wrong. Not that this guy would care who made the mistake, only that it was rectified. I’d been doing this job long enough to know not to argue with customers. “I’ll get your vanilla. You can keep the chocolate.”
“I don’t want chocolate,” he said with a scowl, then tossed it out the window.
The waxed paper cup hit the pavement and burst open, splashing chocolate milkshake all over me. My favorite Madden boots and my jeans were doused in chocolate liquid. Collective gasps came from my coworkers and other customers.
It was a busy Friday afternoon at Dick’s. Fridays were always busy and difficult to handle with school, my job here, and then my band manager duties after. ABCR headlined at Winston’s on Fridays and Saturdays now that football season was over.
But I needed this job as much as I needed the other. With my mom spiraling and me trying desperately to pick up the financial slack, I still hadn’t managed to save enough for Rachel and me to get an apartment outside of Southside. I might have to compromise on location, but I didn’t want to. I felt like I’d compromised enough.
