“I get hit on at least once every shift. I’ve seen men purposely spill their drinks on other servers to try to see through their shirts. Last shift, someone grabbed my friend’s ass.” I shake my head. It makes me sick to think about going back there. “But the money’s good.”
Chapter 13
Ford
Bree and Arlo are working on a jigsaw puzzle at the kitchen table when I get home.
“Oh, hey, Principal Hawthorne.” Bree lights. “Found this in one of your closets. Hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” It’s a thousand-piece puzzle of a lighthouse, a white elephant gift from many Christmas parties ago. Forgot I even had it.
“Arlo was an angel today,” she says, rising and slipping her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, pressing her chest forward. I keep my eyes on hers. “I was going to tell you, I was junior class president last year, and I know all the ins and outs at Rosefield. I know pretty much everyone too. If you ever need anyone on the inside, I’m your girl.”
“Thank you, Bree.”
“I do cheerleading in the fall,” she continues. “For football. And also in the winter. For basketball. I’m in madrigal choir and art club, too. Dad says it’s good to stay busy. Looks good on college applications.”
“It’s true.”
“Dad wants me to go to Northwestern next year,” she says. “His alma mater.”
“Good school.”
“Where’d you go?” she asks, lashes batting.
“Rutgers,” I say, swallowing the hard ball in my throat.
“Never heard of it.” She shrugs. “I’m sure it was a good school though. Oh, hey. I was going to tell you, I think I want to go into higher education administration, like you and my dad. Would it be okay if you mentored me for a bit? I’d stay out of the way. I just want to maybe shadow you for a while? See if it’s really the job for me?”
“Of course.” Like I can say ‘no’ to my boss’ daughter.
Her mouth pulls wide at the corners. “Really? Thank you so much!”
Retrieving some cash from my wallet, I pay her for her time and walk her to the door before she squeezes any more favors out of me.
Chapter 14
Halston
“About damn time. Guys, Halston is here!” Courtney loops her arm around my shoulders and pulls me into her apartment in downtown Rosefield Friday night. Vic and Tab think I’m sleeping over at Emily’s tonight, and she’s covering for me. I should be in the clear. “Look at you!”
She points at my outfit, a skimpy tank top and short shorts I wore underneath my other outfit, changing in the bathroom of a nearby gas station on my way over. I shoved my other clothes in my bag, touched up my makeup, changed into some heels, and trekked over to the Mayflower Apartments on Hillside Drive.
Courtney’s place is nice—which I guess she can afford since she “makes the big bucks” at Big Boulders. It’s a two-bedroom on the ground level overlooking the complex’s sparkling pool, and everything is new. The carpet. The cabinets. The building itself.
“Guys, this is Halston.” Courtney leans on me, her words slurring. “She works with me.”
About twenty unfamiliar faces fill the place, but I don’t let it rattle me.
When Court gets distracted by the newest guest, I head to the kitchen, rummaging through the bottles on the counter.
“I can make you a drink.” I glance up. A tall drink of water with sandy brown hair and pale brown eyes stands on the other side of the granite island.
“I’m good.” I force a smile. He looks at me the way the customers at Big Boulders do, like I’m on display for their personal enjoyment.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asks.
I study his face. “Should I?”
“I work at Big Boulders. I’m the weekend bartender.” He starts clearing out the empty bottles and cans, tossing them in Courtney’s trash. “I’m always coming when you’re going. You’ve probably never noticed me before.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
We both reach for a bottle at the same time, an open bottle of whiskey.
“You can have it,” he says, turning to grab me a red plastic cup. “Would probably taste better with Coke. That’s the cheap stuff. It’s going to burn going down. And you want ice. This has been sitting out for hours.”
“You’re the expert.”
“Just let me.” Within thirty seconds, the tall drink of water mixes my drink and hands it over. I take a small sip, a trick I learned years ago. If you drink too much at one time, it could make you sick or send you into a coughing fit. “You like it?”
I nod. “Not bad … what’s your name? I’m sorry.”
“Gage,” he says. “And you’re Halston. Is it weird that I know that?”
“Yeah.” I take another sip, fighting my smile. He’s cute. But I’m not in the market for trouble. “Kind of.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I just heard them talking about you, that’s all. You don’t forget a name like that. Or those green eyes.”
“Talking about me?” I ignore his flattery. “Hope it was juicy, whatever they were saying.”
Gage laughs. “It was nothing bad. They were just saying that you could be very good for business and they hope you didn’t quit.”
“Good for business …”
“Look, sometimes we scrape the bottom of the barrel when it comes to servers,” he says. “Not a lot of, uh, beautiful women, aspire to work at Big Boulders. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but, like, you’re one of the prettiest ones we’ve had in a long time.”
I take a bigger drink this time, willing myself not to cough. “Can you please stop saying I’m pretty?”
His expression falls. “I’m sorry. I thought girls liked to hear that kind of thing.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, all right? You want to fuck me tonight,” I say. “And it’s not going to happen.”
Gage freezes, saying nothing for a second. I’ve sucked the words right out of his mouth, but that’s the only thing I’ll be sucking tonight.
“Look, you’re cute. And you’re nice. But you’re still not getting laid,” I say. “What kind of girl would I be if I gave it up to the first guy who approached me?”
He’s still silent, but at least he’s blinking.
“I’m on the money, aren’t I?” I laugh, eyes scanning the room, and I find myself wondering what Kerouac’s up to tonight.
The alcohol turns warm in my veins and suddenly my cares drift away on a cloud of nothingness.
Gage mutters something under his breath before shaking his head and walking away. I don’t ‘do’ the nice ones anyway. I have standards, damn it.
Standing alone in the kitchen, I watch people come and go, grabbing drinks and making messes. Checking my phone a few minutes later, I press the Karma app.
Congratulations! You’ve reached thirty Karma points! You may now communicate with Kerouac using our Karma-issued phone numbers! Press here to make your first call!
My heart pounds in my ears, whooshing and rushing the way it does when I’m about to do something I know I shouldn’t be doing. With heated skin and wicked intentions, I push my way through the partygoers and end up on the patio outside. The air is chilly for an evening in July, but I’m too distracted by what I’m about to do to care.
Pressing the flashing green button, I take a seat when the line begins to ring.
I cross my legs, ankle bouncing as I bite my thumbnail.
“Hello?”
Holy shit he sounds hot.
“Kerouac,” I say, my voice low and breathy.
He’s quiet.
“Absinthe.”
“Hi.” I chuckle. This is weird.
“Hey. What are you doing?”
I check the time. It’s almost ten o’clock. “Hope it’s okay I’m calling so late.”
“It’s fine. I’m in bed.”