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Grabbing a stack of napkins from the outside workstation, I swiped at the mess on my legs, trying not to burst into tears. I wadded up the sticky napkins, tossed them in a trash receptacle, and marched inside. Coworkers patted me on the back, murmuring sympathetic comments, but I couldn’t acknowledge them. If I did, I would cry. My ears were ringing like they did when I stood next to the amp for one of Collin’s guitar solos.
Collin.
Seeing his handsome face flash in my mind, I sighed. I imagined him wearing his snug jeans with his guitar in his hands, and my heart managed a few easier beats. He was wonderful and kind, everything I could want in a boyfriend, but I wasn’t as certain of him as I was about his music.
Yes, he’d said those three little words, and I returned them now. But what did I really know about love? What did he? And what good was love, anyway, when it couldn’t pay the bills and keep you off the streets?
At the drink counter, I wrote up a ticket for another vanilla shake, underliningvanillathree times. I frowned, knowing the cost of it would come out of my paycheck. As would the cost of a new pair of boots. My Maddens were probably ruined.
“Addy Footit!” my boss shouted, stomping over to me. “In my office.”
He gestured to the broom closet he called an office and stalked toward it without waiting to see if I would follow. Shoulders drooping, I trudged after him. His office branched off from the even smaller space where we stored our belongings and clocked in. He liked to keep a close eye on his employees.
“Yes, sir.” I stepped inside, and my eyes widened at the sight of Miranda sitting in the guest chair in front of his desk.
Mr. Minelli scooted around her and sank into his chair on the opposite side. “Miss Skellin has placed a large catering order.”
As he glanced down at a long receipt on his desk, I could practically see dollar signs shining in his gaze. Focusing on the paper, he missed the Cheshire-cat grin Miranda cast my way.
“She’s requested help with delivery and asked for you specifically. Can you help her?”
“Yes.” I tried not to smile huge. “No problem.”
“Great.” Miranda stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her body-clinging jacket and pants ensemble. “Come along.” Throwing her long dark hair over her shoulder, she breezed past me on her way out of Mr. Minelli’s office.
“Be on your best behavior,” Mr. Minelli hissed at me under his breath. “Lakeside types tip well.”
Nodding, I followed Miranda. Her high-heeled Mary Janes that were surely designer like her Calvin Klein suit clacked on the floor. The worn and sticky soles of my ice-cream-spattered Maddens squelched.
“The order is already loaded up.” She pointed to a Volvo wagon.
I hurried to keep up with her, dodging my scurrying coworkers and ignoring their speculative stares.
Miranda stood out in Southside. Above and beyond that she was beautiful, she had that Lakeside entitlement vibe in full force. Her slender shoulders were back, and her nose was high in the air. Approaching the vehicle, she gestured to the passenger side. I opened the door and gingerly sat in the passenger seat while she climbed in on her side.
Inside the cabin, she put the keys in the ignition and waggled her perfect brows at me. “We’ve gotta find someone to eat all this shit.”
“Why did you order it?” I asked.
“You’re running ragged lately,” she said, frowning at me with concern. “You need a break, and I need quality time with my bestie. We can swing by the baseball field at Lakeside High. I’m sure the guys would love some Dick’s Drive-In burgers and fries.”
“You shouldn’t have done this.” I’d glanced in the back, noting all the red-and-white bags of food before fastening my seat belt. “That’s a huge order. It must have cost a lot.”
She shrugged. “I’m not paying. My parents pay my credit card bill.”
“They’re not going to like it. Did you ask permission? For the food purchase or the use of your mom’s car?”
“No.” Miranda’s smile faltered.
She had issues with her parents, nearly as big as mine with my mom. They just weren’t the same issues. But I worried if she kept acting out and pushing it with them, she would end up kicked out of the house without a place to stay, just like what might happen to me.
• • •
“So ...”
After dropping off the fast food, Miranda grabbed my hand and led me back to the SUV. She’d parked on the side of the road, right by the baseball team’s practice field. She didn’t even seem to register the guys in tight baseball pants ogling her.
“I heard reps from RDA are coming to see ABCR tonight,” she said.
