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"I've made up my mind," I told her stubbornly. "It's not a big deal. Just a few hours on school nights, a few more on weekends. Now that I've quit drama, I have plenty of free time."
She tried a different tactic. I knew she would. "I wouldn't get your hopes up. It's the wrong season for part-time jobs. I guarantee no one is hiring."
I swallowed hard. "I already have one. The manager of the 5 and Diner hired me on the spot. I start on Monday."
Her eyes narrowed on me. "It's quite unnecessary. Why on earth would you need a job? Any need you have, I'm happy to provide for. Just tell me what it is you're earning money for. I'll buy it for you, darling!"
I gave her brutal honesty. Not because I wanted to and not because I wasn't grateful. It was a matter of self-worth. If I was ever going to get some, I knew I had to earn it. "I can't be a Durant charity case, not more than I can help. At least if I get a job I'm trying to take care of myself."
She gave me the coldest look I'd ever seen her aim my way. It made me shiver and instantly want to take back whatever I'd said that put that look on her face.
She was a force of nature like that. What she felt, you felt. If she was happy, the world knew joy. When she was angry . . . yeah, you felt that too.
And when she was disappointed in you, you felt like absolute shit.
"I'm sorry that you thought this was charity," she said with haughty chill. "You thought I felt some sense of duty toward you? And here I thought I was doing it out of love. Silly me." Her tone was scathing. A vacuum of disdain, it sucked all warmth from the room. Took my stubborn pride and left me feeling ashamed and alone.
I was out of my league. A trashcan girl could not hope to go head to head against a queen.
I shook it off, shed the feeling. I would not back down on this, not even against Gram. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry it c-c-c-came out that that way. I'm not u-u-u-ungrateful. B-b-b-but I'm k-k-k-keeping the j-job."
The stutter did her in. Her hard expression went soft, and she let out a soft, "Oh, my darling girl. Oh, I'm sorry. I lost my temper. You see now where Dante gets it. I won't stop you from having this job, if you really think it will make you happier. I just worry about you."
I wasn't sure if I was relieved or completely humiliated that I'd won because of pity.
But I took it all the same.
Gram was one obstacle, Dante another.
Over the years, we'd learned to pick our battles with each other. What that meant was basically whoever cared more won, whoever cared less compromised.
I just assumed I'd be winning this one. I didn't count on him freaking out, his hellish temper coming out to play.
"No," he said to me first thing as he came back from his run. He was sweaty and agitated. He looked good enough to eat.
But it was the wrong approach.
"I already have the job. I was hired to wait tables. You're just going to have to get used the idea."
"No. I'm putting my foot down about this one."
A fight it was. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Hello, temper. It's me, Scarlett. What are we going to do about this bossy son of a bitch?
Likely nothing productive. Still, we'd try.
"What the hell is your problem? And when did you get the idea you could tell me what to do?"
"Why the hell do you want a job? If you need something, just tell Gram."
I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw it. "Spoken like a true trust fund baby. I need to start making my own money."
"Why?"
"Why do you care?"
