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I ignore him, focused on my laptop, hoping he’ll realize I’m not in the mood for a fucking chat.
“Why’d you leave so early?” he asks.
“Figured you’d sleep in, given the hour you arrived home.” I’m delighted by how emotionless I sound despite the rage spinning in my chest. “I decided it was time to get real about looking for a job so you won’t have to employ and house me forever.”
He scratches his neck. “You act like I’m doing you a favor by giving you a job.”
I note that he didn’t reference his feelings about me as a roommate in any way, and that was the part that actually mattered. The moments I’ve spent with Beck, until recently, have been the bright spots of my day and my year, but I can’t be his charity case for the rest of my life. “Either way, I’ve gotten two paychecks. I can probably be out of your hair pretty soon. I’m sure you want your place back to yourself.”
His shoulders sag. There are circles under his eyes that weren’t there a week ago. “Whatever you want to do is fine,” he mutters, a non-answer that makes me crazy.
Would it kill him to say, ‘Kate, I like having you around?’ And why do I want him to say it anyway? This is why I need to get out. We’re blurring too many lines.
“I’m sure it would smooth things over with Caleb if I weren’t there,” I reply.
His nostrils flare. “Smooth things over foryouor for me?”
I sigh.For us both, clearly. I know better than to say it aloud. “For you, obviously.”
He turns to walk out. “I don’t give a fuck what Caleb thinks about you staying with me. But go if you want to go.”
“Okay, I will,” I tell the closed door. It’s pretty clear it’s not just in my best interest to leave but his too. It’s also clear our friendship, or whatever it was, is probably over.
The bar is unusually busy when I come out of the office that afternoon, and Beck’s alone. “Where’s Mueller?”
“Stomach trouble,” he says, without looking up.
“I’m going to look at an apartment, unless you need help?”
He sneers. “Fromyou?”
I flip him off, but he’s already turned his back to me.
The apartment in question is in the shittiest section of a rundown town that isn’t near anything. It has a leaking sink and a stain on the carpet that looks suspiciously like blood, and a bunch of guys are lounging on the outside steps in broad daylight. The smell of weed as I walk out is so strong I’m probably getting a contact high.
It’s as if, no matter how hard I try, I’m destined to wind up in the same gutter I started in. I’m destined to wind up alone, surrounded by addicts, and left for dead.
The happy hour crowd has already arrived when I get to the bar and Beck’s still the only one back there. I’m tempted to keep walking since he was such an asshole before, but I stop.Kate, you are so fucking weak.“Why are you still alone?”
“Lawrence called in sick too.” He glances at me from the tap, something at war in his eyes. He needs help, but he refuses to receive it fromme, the addict. “It’ll be fine. There’s enough kitchen staff to cover food service and clean-up, and Melissa comes in at six.”
They normally have three bartenders on a Friday, so they’ll still be short. And Beck looks wiped—I guess he hasn’t had a break all day, and God knows he didn’t get much sleep last night, the bastard. But if he can’t be bothered to ask for my help, I’m sure as hell not offering again.
In the office, I wrap things up for the week and have just ended my final call when Melissa walks into the office and drops her purse on Beck’s desk. She looks like death warmed over.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I don’t think so,” she whispers, and then she grabs her purse, and vomits inside it.
“Go home and get in bed,” I demand and she’s so sick she can barely nod in agreement as she walks back out. I follow her out to discover people are now three deep at the bar, waving credit cards in the air, and Beck’s still back there alone.
He watches in dismay as Melissa walks out and I give up. He’s not going to ask for help and...whatever. He’s being an idiot.
I slide behind the bar and turn to the woman closest to me. “What can I get you?”
Her mouth falls open. She glances toward Beck.
“Yeah, I know, you’d rather he waited on you,” I tell her. “I wish he was waiting on you too, believe me.” When she sees I’m about to move on to the next person, she orders a dumb girl drink and I groan audibly.
