Until My Last Breath

by Tiffany Patterson

  Soon enough the door opened and a group of about ten guys pushed through, moving past the bouncers. Inhaling deeply, I braced myself before heading over, but I stopped short when I recognized the leader of the group.

  “Shit!” I cursed, wishing at that moment, I wasn’t the only cocktail waitress on shift tonight. But unfortunately, MaryAnne, the other waitress, had called out sick.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, I took a deep breath and made my way over to the four tables the guys had chosen, right in the center of the club. The stage was front and center from their view, but my back was to the woman on stage as I greeted the men, many of whom I recognized.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. What can I get started for you?” I questioned, pulling my notepad and pencil from my hip where I’d tucked them earlier.

  “Deborah?”

  My heart sank a little, at the almost gleeful tone I heard in Jack Lassiter’s voice.

  I turned. “Jack. How nice to see you here. What can I get for you?”

  “I decided to treat the guys to a night out to celebrate my twenty-first birthday. Fucking California and its legal drinking age bullshit.”

  I had to fight hard not to roll my eyes. I didn’t care why Jack or his friends were out that night. But, of course, he continued.

  “Damn liberals are destroying the country with their nonsense. Look at all of the protests and upheaval they’ve caused—”

  “It sucks, but I assume you’re all here to have a good time tonight, right? So what can I get started for you all?” For some reason my gaze shifted from Jack to the guys he’d come in with. I relaxed slightly when I didn’t see one in particular. Although, truth be told, I would’ve known immediately if Robert Townsend was with them. He didn’t blend in like the rest of these guys. And even if he wasn’t making a loud showing of himself, like Jack obviously needed to, his presence was still felt.

  Why the hell I was thinking about Robert, or why I was grateful he wasn’t with them that night, I didn’t know.

  “I’ll have the best beer you have on tap,” Jack finally answered. “And get these guys whatever they want.” He pulled out a wad of money.

  Again, I had to force myself not to show what I was thinking. Instead, I scribbled down in my notepad the orders from the guys who’d come in with Jack before departing as quickly as possible.

  First, I brought the food orders to the back, giving them to the head chef so he could get started, then I took the drink orders behind the bar. I worked alongside Pia to prepare the drinks. Technically, I wasn’t a bartender, but after a few years in that place, I could make drinks almost as well as Pia or any of the other bartenders. And since we were short staffed that night, she was thankful for the help.

  “I can’t stand that guy,” I finally said out loud.

  “Who?”

  I gestured with my chin toward Jack. “He goes to Stanford. They all do. I’ve seen them on campus. Anyway, he’s a real ass.”

  “Yeah, but he’s a paying ass tonight. Just keep ’em liquored up. Drunk customers give the best tips.” Pia winked at me as she added the final drink onto my drink.

  I laughed. She was right. I didn’t take this job to make friends. I took it for the money.

  “Whoa!” one of the men shouted as he backed up, nearly knocking me over in his excitement. A new dancer had come to the stage and she was entertaining the hell out of the crowd.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I began placing the drinks in front of the different men who’d ordered them, thankful for my sharp memory. “Your food will be out shortly, guys,” I stated, ready to depart, but my wrist was caught in someone’s grip, causing me to turn back to the group.

  I came chest to chest with Jack Lassiter.

  Without thought, I yanked my wrist free and was ready to tell him to keep his damn hands to himself. But then I remembered I was at work. He wasn’t the first customer to get a little too touchy feely.

  “When is it your turn to get on stage?” he questioned, inching closer.

  I glanced at the woman on stage who had just removed the tiny top she wore, displaying the flashy, neon pink pasties she wore.

  “Never,” I responded, returning my attention to Jack. “I’m not a dancer.”

  He moved closer. “What a waste of a body,” he stated, eyeing me up and down.

  In that moment, I loathed the skimpy outfit I wore, but didn’t react.

  “Your food will be out shortly. Enjoy the show.” I turned and started to walk away when a smack to my ass caused me to jump, startled.

  Furious, I turned back to face a smirking Jack.

  “An ass like that definitely belongs on stage.” A few of the dumbasses with him laughed as if he’d told the funniest joke in the world.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?”

  I relaxed slightly when I heard Pia’s voice behind me.

  “We were just talking with one of our classmates,” a guy from the back replied.

  I didn’t know his name but I recognized him. We’d shared a class freshman or sophomore year.

  “Yeah, well, classmate or not, we’re only here for looking, not touching. Hands to yourselves,” Pia added, before taking me by the arm to pull me away from the group.

  “That’s a shame,” another douchebag added.

  “How much to touch?” Jack questioned, waving his cash in the air.

  I made a disgusted face. “You couldn’t afford it!” I seethed while being pulled away by Pia.

  “Hey, calm down,” she encouraged, as I continued to stare at the men whose eyes were now trained on the dance on stage.

  “What’s got you so upset? You never let customers get to you like that,” Pia noted.

  Sighing, I slumped my shoulders. “I know. It’s that I took a job forty minutes away from campus to avoid this type of thing. I can’t stand guys like them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Them.” I gestured with my hand to the group of guys. “Stuck up, snooty—”

  “Rich?”

  “Yes!” I answered, adamantly.

  I loved Stanford. Greatly appreciated the opportunity I had to not only attend the prestigious university but to do so on a scholarship, which was amazing for a woman who grew up like I did. Stanford was dubbed the Ivy League of the West Coast, and the professors worked diligently to live up to the hype. However, with the big name came big money. Most of the students on campus came from wealth I never even realized existed. While I’d made some great relationships on campus, not everyone was particularly welcoming of those who didn’t come from their social circles or class levels. For the most part, I’d gotten used to it, and tried my utmost not to let it bother me, sometimes it did.

  “Well, you’ve only got a few more months and then you’re off to Williamsport to start that big fancy job,” Pia stated, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

  Looking over at her, I saw the shimmer of sadness in her hazel eyes.

  “You’re going to miss me?” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “Hell yeah.”

  I giggled, my mood lightening. The idea of leaving Pia did make me sad. However, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit giddy at the thought of starting my new job after graduation. The previous summer, I’d gotten an opportunity to intern in the finance department of a fashion company. And while I hadn’t landed a position at that company, it had led to my interviewing with a few others, including one of the largest cosmetic companies in the world. I had interviewed over winter break, and just heard back a few weeks ago. I’d gotten the job as a financial analyst. I would be moving to Williamsport two weeks after graduation to start my new career.

  “You’re gonna be great!” Pia exclaimed.

  “You’ll come visit me, right?” I asked. Pia and I had grown close over the past three years of working together. She often covered for me when I took an extra long break to study, and I returned the favor, covering for her at the bar when one of her boyfriends came in and she needed to
step away to argue with him. On the outside, it may not have seemed like Pia and I had anything in common aside from the place we worked at, but I often felt like I could relate to her more than most of the girls I shared classes and dorm rooms with.

  “Of course. Anyway, we need to get back to work. There’re tips to be made.”

  Groaning, I glanced over at the group of guys from Stanford. Their attention was on the new dances who’d come out to give them lap dances.

  “At least now their hands are occupied and they won’t be trying to grope you,” Pia stated.

  “Let’s hope. For their sakes,” I responded, and then headed back to the kitchen to retrieve the food they’d ordered.

  ****

  Then

  Robert

  “Princess!” I called for the third time to no avail. My voice was deep and loud. I knew she’d heard me, which only meant one thing—Deborah Tate was intentionally ignoring me.

  I narrowed my gaze on her retreating back. There was no way in hell that would fly.

  I jogged a little to catch up to her just as she exited the building we’d just had our World Mythologies course in. It was a sunny day in Palo Alto, but when Deborah spun around, glaring at me, snatching her arm away from my hold, it felt like the entire sky had darkened.

  She was pissed.

  Swallowing, I shifted, lowering the books I held in my hand in front of my crotch because I’d be damned if her attitude didn’t turn me the hell own. It felt like all of the blood rushed from my brain to my groin. She had no fucking clue what she was doing, either.

  “What?” she nearly shrieked.

  In my peripheral, I noted a few heads turn our way, but I ignored them. They didn’t matter.

  “You’re pissed,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “You think?”

  I angled my head. She really had no idea what she was doing with those laser sharp, cerulean-blue eyes of hers. Her cheeks were tinted red, evidence of her anger, and her brunette brows were turned downward.

  I decided to prod. “What for?”

  Her eyes widened. “What for? It’s been two weeks since you’ve been to class.”

  A smile touched my lips. “I didn’t know you cared so much, princess.”

  A scowl this time around. “I don’t. Trust me, I don’t. But as I told you the first week of this class, I am not going to allow you to mess up my GPA. We have a major assignment at the end of the semester due, and smaller assignments along the way. You haven’t even been around for us to decide a topic!” she seethed.

  Not one to let anyone speak to me like this, I was almost stunned into silence. But not quite.

  I knew she’d be angered at us not having picked our topic yet. Our first assignment for the semester was due the following week. And while I wouldn’t explain what had kept me from class the past two weeks, I would let her know that I wasn’t the rich slacker she assumed I was.

  “I realize this, princess. Which is why I’ve been doing some research.” Shifting to remove the backpack hanging on my shoulder, I placed the notebooks I’d been holding inside, then removed two books on Middle Eastern and North African mythologies before handing them to her.

  Her angry gaze shifted from me to the books I held. Her face registered surprise when she noted the titles of the books.

  I smirked, cockily.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I may have peeked over your shoulder the first day of class.” She had jotted down some notes as to what mythologies she’d wanted to research for our project. “I looked through both of them. I think studying the Berber mythologies of Northern Africa seems pretty interesting, but I’ll let you decide since I’ve been MIA the past few weeks. It won’t happen again,” I stated firmly.

  Her head popped up, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she scowled. “It better not.”

  Again, I was used to very few people speaking to me like that, and by very few, I meant only one. And that fucker was responsible for giving me life, among other things.

  “Skim thru the books and then meet me in the library at five today. We can go over the topic you chose.”

  She remained silent.

  “I’ll see you at five, princess.” I turned to head to my next class.

  To my back, I heard her say, “Don’t call me princess!”

  I glanced over my shoulder and simply grinned. I wasn’t giving up the nickname. She might as well get the hell used to it.

  Chapter Three

  Then

  Robert

  I sighed as I inserted the key into the doorknob, not knowing what to expect on the other side once I entered. It’d been a long two weeks, and because of it, I was behind on my classes. Thankfully, it was still early enough in the semester that I hadn’t missed too much between family bullshit and business bullshit.

  Stepping over the threshold of my apartment that was just off campus, I glanced around. The brown leather couch to the left, in the living room, remained undisturbed. It’s dark, I noted as I flicked on the lights. And it’s quiet. Too quiet.

  I shook my head and grunted, placing my books and school supplies on the floor next to the wooden coatrack, and moved down the long hallway. Entering the guest bedroom, I found my brother, Jason, a lump in the middle of the waterbed.

  Angrily, I turned on the lights in the room and charged over to the bed, shaking it. The mattress rippled and waved due to the pressure. Jason grunted and attempted to turn over on his side.

  “Wake up!” I growled.

  “Wh-what?” he questioned, groggily, his eyes opening to slits. “Why’s it so fucking bright in here?”

  “Maybe because it’s one o’clock in the fucking afternoon.” And just to drive my point home, I pulled open the long, dark curtains my mother had begged me to don the windows with so Jason could sleep more comfortably. I snorted at the way she coddled her youngest son.

  “Wake up!” I demanded.

  “Ah, come on, Rob. Can’t I get a little sleep?”

  “Sleep is all you’ve been doing since we arrived in California last night. I only brought you back with me to keep you out of trouble. I missed two weeks worth of classes for you—”

  “No, that wasn’t for me,” Jason retorted, finally sitting up. “You did it for Father.”

  “I did it for both of you.” Two weeks ago I’d gotten a call from Jason, who had been taken to the police station after his ex-girlfriend called them, fearing for her safety. They were out at a nightclub, Jason had been drinking, per usual, and he wasn’t a nice drunk. Add to that, Townsend Industries was going through some difficult times due to the ongoing energy crisis, and I was needed back home. Being the oldest, I was used to cleaning up Jason’s messes. I was also expected to take the reins at Townsend Industries at some point, which meant that my father expected me to be heavily involved in the business, no matter what was going on in my life.

  “You need to head down and register for classes.”

  “No fucking way I’m going to Stanford,” Jason insisted, pointing a shaky finger at me.

  I frowned as he tossed his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, but plopped back down onto the bed. He was either still drunk from the night before or severely hungover. Which one, I couldn’t tell.

  “You need to get your shit together. We discussed this three days ago in Father’s office. There’s no way Stanford would take you right now. There’s a local community college we’ve registered you at. Even though their semester started, Father bought your way in. You take a few classes, get high enough grades, and maybe another school will accept you as a transfer.” That was the plan, though it was likely a long shot.

  “I ain’t going to school,” Jason defiantly protested, finally rising to his feet on his third try. He was younger than me by two years and only an inch shorter than my six-foot-three frame, but his descent into excessive drinking was already taking its toll. His normally lean frame was growing a potbelly while his limbs were wiry.

&nbs
p; “That’s the fucking deal. There is no way you’re going to be living with me and sleeping all day and drinking all night. Get your fucking clothes on, drink a cup of coffee to sober up, and then go down to the admissions office to the community college to register for classes, or so help me—”

  “So help you what? You gonna kick my ass, Rob?”

  “Don’t fucking tempt me,” I growled.

  “What if I don’t want to take classes?”

  “No one gives a shit what you want to do. You haven’t made good choices up until this point. Getting yourself arrested over a woman.”

  “She was disrespecting me!” Jason yelled.

  “How? By moving on with her fucking life? You two broke up months ago, didn’t you? And you throw a temper tantrum in a nightclub over your ex going on a date. Grow the hell up.”

  “I’m not like you. I don’t hop from woman to woman in a matter of weeks. I actually have feelings.”

  I grunted, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, the type of feelings that led you to trying to beat a woman up. Jesus Christ, Jason. Our father may be a piece of shit to our mother but he never hit her.”

  “Yeah, he just beat the crap out of us instead.”

  Frowning, I looked way, mostly because Jason was right, though I was loathe to admit it. “Well, he doesn’t anymore, right? Just get your shit together,” I grunted.

  And because I really didn’t want to knock my brother out, in spite of my temper, I took a step backward, gave him one last glare, and stormed out the door. I headed up the hall to grab my own books and book bag. Like I said, I didn’t have time to bullshit around with my brother. I had shit in my own life I needed to take care of.

  ****

  Deborah

  “He better not stand me up,” I mumbled, peering down at the watch on my wrist. I ran my hand along the beat-up leather band. It was only a minute after five, but I hated tardiness. If he insisted I meet him at the library the least he could do—