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I didn’t realize how long I’d leaned against a building down the block, just watching the club, until employees started to exit. Finally, it occurred to me what a stalker I was being. Shit. Had I really been lurking here for hours, just waiting to see her?
When she exited, escorted by Mason, I tugged the hood of my sweater up and backed into a shadow. My greedy gaze gobbled her up as the two of them crossed the street. Mason politely remained by her car until she’d unlocked her door and waved him good-bye.
The beat-up junker she climbed into coughed to life, its one headlight spilling across the parking lot, and then it chugged clunkily onto the street.
I shook my head. What the hell was she driving? I wouldn’t even classify that piece of shit as a car.
Watching it disappear down the block and listening to it backfire after she turned a corner stirred a helpless frustration in me, that uncontrollable need to destroy I felt every time I thought of how the one summer I’d spent with her had ruined her entire life.
If only she hadn’t left her family, she’d probably be driving something luxurious and expensive right now, something safe that had no chance of ever breaking down on her or leaving her stranded.
That had been the plan. I’d done what her father had said so she would be okay and taken care of, so she could be safe and never have to drive a piece of shit car to a waitressing job, so she could follow her dream and go to college. But she’d ruined everything when she’d left them.
I looked up at the stars as my inner Hulk yearned to smash. It kept stirring inside me, so I hiked back to the gym and was pleasantly surprised to find it open all night. Took me a couple hours of working out to calm down.
Dawn rose above the city as I returned to the apartment.
Eva was already awake, and she sent me straight to bed as soon as she opened the door for me. I crashed on Julian’s Spiderman sheets and slept hard, without a single nightmare, until it was time to get up for my shift at the club.
Sporting a shirt that actually fit and jeans that were long enough to cover my ankles tonight, I approached the bar, feeling halfway human.
I’d checked the schedule, just to make sure she wouldn’t be working and in the process, I discovered I’d be paired with Asher and Ten. All the signs outside claimed it was karaoke night, and the first thing I noticed when I entered was Asher on the stage, playing with wires and dials to test the sound system.
“Yo, Parker,” Ten called from the bar. “Get your ass over here so I can show you how to switch out these kegs.”
He was rolling a tank out from under the counter as I joined him. As he grabbed its replacement, he explained the process, demanding I hand him shit, sticking up his palm and spitting out things like, “Tube... Clamp... Shank.”
I glowered at him for that last one, and after a second, he glanced up because I hadn’t set anything in his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
I narrowed my eyes, and he finally seemed to catch on. “Not that kind of shank, inmate.” Reaching past me to the counter, he picked up a round chunk of metal. “This...is a beer shank. It attaches to the beer faucet up here, like so.”
As he screwed everything into place, I watched and learned. Afterward, he glanced at me, eyebrows lifted.
I shrugged. “So I have more experience with the other kind of shank.”
“And I just shit myself,” he uttered, gaping at me. “You’re not fucking kidding me right now, are you?”
I only wished I were. “Best defense on the inside that you’ll ever have.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the equipment he was showing me how to put together. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
There were only a few more steps he had to teach me, so he turned all business as he did so. I nodded, paying close attention as I soaked everything in.
Afterward, Ten blew out a breath and straightened. When he turned to me and opened his mouth, I knew he was going to say something totally un-work related, and I had a feeling it wasn’t something to put me in a good mood.
“So...yeah. My twin sister died...almost five years ago.”
I blinked, not sure where that had come from. “Excuse me?”
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a nervous manner, he scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It really sucked.”
When he said nothing else, I squinted at him, so he narrowed his eyes right back. “I’m just saying...I get it, okay. All that losing your family bullshit...” He twirled a finger at me. “I understand.”
Oh, hell, no. Was this guy honestly trying to comfort me through my grief? No. Just...no. But the sympathy in his gaze made something in my guts give a hard, vicious twist, and I knew. He really did understand.
Shit, I didn’t want to like this punk. But he was offering me compassion, in a very strange, exasperating way. I actually felt my coldness toward him begin to thaw.
