CONVICT: An Unfit Hero Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  I don’t respond to her statement as I take the two plates from the counter. Carrying them out, I walk slowly to the table. Inhaling a deep breath, I hope and pray that I can get in and run far away without any issues.

  “You think he’s finally ditched that little whore he’d been seeing on the side?” Jennifer’s friend asks, taking a sip of tea.

  I drop one of the plates with a thud. Both women’s eyes turn to me, and I know I’m white as a sheet. I know, without a doubt that I look as sick as I feel. “Sorry,” I mumble. Scooting the plates in front of the women I ask if they need anything else.

  “Nope,” Jennifer says, her P popping.

  Looking down to her, I frown slightly. Her hand quickly wraps around mine and she squeezes. I freeze, unable to move as her hand grips my own. “Stay away. I know it was you, you little homewrecking whore,” she hisses.

  I hear her friend giggle as I yank my wrist out of her grasp. I take a couple steps back, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. Without saying anything, I turn and hurry toward the back of the restaurant, to the bathroom.

  Locking myself in one of the two stalls, I bury my face in my hands and I cry. She’s not wrong. She’s not right either. I didn’t wreck her home. I didn’t pursue James. He came onto me. Then, he abandoned me when I needed him most.

  She has him. She has his love, his support, all of him. I have nothing. Nothing except this baby he put inside of me. He left my heart shredded into a million pieces. He used me for his own pleasure, knowing he would never leave her for me. Knowing he could manipulate me.

  He’s doing it with someone else, now, I guarantee. A man like that, he will never quit. Why is it that I still love him? Still want him, and think that I need him? Why does it hurt so damn bad?

  “Hun?” Lulamae calls out.

  “Almost done,” I say, attempting to have a strong voice. Knowing no doubt that it trembles and wavers.

  “Went again and checked on all your tables. You just take a minute. Heard what the bitch said to you. Take your time,” she whispers.

  Me and Lulamae aren’t close, but I respect her, like her too. Today I love her. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply then let out an exhale. Standing, I open the stall door and walk over to the mirror. Splashing some water on my face, I use a paper towel to dry myself off.

  My blue eyes meet my reflection and they look so damn sad, but beyond that, they look scared and heartbroken. I need to let go of James. I need to focus on this life growing inside of me. That is what’s important. That is all that matters. This baby. Nothing else.

  Giving myself a shake, I turn toward the door and with my head held high I walk back into work. I’m thankful that when I return the two bitches are gone. I walk over to their table and roll my eyes when I see that they haven’t even left me so much as a penny for a tip.

  Figures.

  There’s a slip of paper folded in the middle of the table. Picking it up, I chance unfolding it. I shouldn’t. I should just throw it in the trash, but I’m too curious.

  Do yourself a favor.

  Leave town.

  -J

  Crumpling the paper in my fist, I toss it back onto the table. The busboy appears behind me and I smile. “Thanks, Braydon.” Walking away from him, I put Jennifer and James behind me. I need to focus on my job, then tonight I’ll drown myself in a pint of cheap ice cream and cry.

  I cannot let her affect me. I cannot let him affect me. I’m done. I’m twenty years old and about to become a mother. He no longer factors into my life. My life is all about me and this baby, nobody else.

  Chapter Three

  RYLAN

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  Hand digging holes. Who thought this job would be hand digging fucking holes? I grunt, pushing the shovel down and taking out another load of dirt. I’m not complaining though, not really. I’d rather be doing this than anything in prison.

  Wyatt is a journeyman power lineman. He climbs power poles and works on electricity. My official title is ground hand, but in laymen’s terms, I’m a goddamn grunt. A thirty-year-old grunt, and honest to fuck, I don’t mind it one bit. Maybe one day I’ll get to be on a pole like Wyatt. It’s fucking fascinating watching him work.

  Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the sheet of sweat that’s gathered on my forehead. “You almost done with that, fucker?” Wyatt asks, walking up to me.

  I’m surprised to see him on the ground. Last time I looked up from my hole, he was forty-five feet in the air, in his bucket truck. “Fixin’ to be,” I grin.

  He shakes his head, lifting his hand and slapping me on the shoulder. “Finish that one and we’ll go to lunch,” he states.

  “Lunch?”

  This entire week we’ve eaten whatever we’ve brought with us in lunch bags. I don’t mind. Saves me from having to borrow even more money from Wyatt. Although today is Friday, I’ll get my first paycheck.

  Wyatt already told me I could use half to pay him back, and the other half to get me by until the next week. Not that the check will be much. Granted I’ll be paid for ten hours of overtime, but at twelve bucks an hour, it doesn’t really add up to much.

  Even twelve dollars an hour of hard labor is better than using and dealing. They’re giving me a chance, Wyatt is giving me a chance, and I’m not going to fucking waste even a second of it.

  “On Fridays we go to the diner, or somewhere nearby. Today the diner is close,” he shrugs. “Finish that up and come to the truck, foreman’s drivin’.”

  Lifting my chin, I turn back to my hole. Working a little harder, and faster, knowing that three other guys are waiting on me, I try to finish up quickly. Once the hole is the right depth, I carry my tools over to Wyatt’s truck and lock them away. Then, I head over to the waiting and running, foreman’s truck.

  “Maybe that pretty blonde waitress, Channing will be there today,” one of the linemen says.

  “Channing?” I ask as I buckle my seatbelt.

  Wyatt and the foreman sit up front since they have the most seniority, me and the apprentice lineman sit in the backseat. The foreman grunts, turning the truck toward town. Wyatt turns back to look at me, rolling his eyes.

  “Channing Shephard. Cute girl, but young.”

  The truck pulls up to the little diner and I look at the name. “Crazy Lucy’s?” I ask.

  “Yeah, used to be Gallup Diner, remember?”

  Shifting my gaze back over to the diner, I nod. Fuck, yeah I remember. My mom worked here one summer. She fucked one of the cooks who got her a job. That was until they caught her shooting up on her break in the bathroom.

  “I remember,” I mutter.

  We all climb out of the truck, walking in a line toward the entrance of the diner. We’re all dirty, sweaty and I’m sure stink to high heaven. “Anywhere you like, boys,” an older woman shouts from behind the cash register.

  “Over here,” the apprentice lineman says, waggling his eyebrows.

  I roll my eyes at Wyatt who returns the look back to me. We walk toward a table in the middle and all take a seat. Grabbing a plastic menu from the center of the table I start to read it, trying to figure out what I’m going to order.

  “What can I get y’all to drink?” a sweet voice asks.

  Looking up, I’m frozen, stunned into silence at the sight in front of me. She’s absolutely goddamn gorgeous. She ain’t just some pretty young girl. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. She shouldn’t be in this shithole, she should be modeling or some shit.

  Glancing to her nametag, I see her name clearly, Channing. She doesn’t belong here, her long blonde hair is braided down her shoulder, her eyes have some dark circles beneath them, but they’re the color of the Texas sky. I can’t even drag my gaze down to the rest of her, I’m so mesmerized by her pretty face.

  I hear everyone’s order and almost groan when those blue eyes meet mine. “Sweet tea, darlin’.” I grin.

  Her cheeks tint pink and she dips her head before turning and hurrying away. I watch h
er ass as she goes. It’s encased in tight as fuck blue jeans, and those are tucked into a pair of worn brown boots. Goddamn. Fuck. Perfect.

  “Don’t even go there,” Wyatt warns.

  Turning my gaze from Channing’s ass, I look over at him, lifting a brow in question. “She ain’t even twenty-one,” he points out. “She’s also got a bit of a reputation. Better to just stay away,” he mutters.

  I snort. “Got my own rep, cousin,” I point out.

  Wyatt shakes his head. “Trust me, that’s a whole fucking mess of drama in a five-foot-five hot body that you don’t want any part of,” he mutters.

  I don’t respond, instead I stay quiet the rest of the lunch. The other men chat, the apprentice watches Channing work, waiting tables. I glance at her when I can, wondering just how bad this hometown gossip is about her? What would make my cousin warn me like that?

  Shaking my head, I wonder why the fuck I care? Maybe it’s only because I come with my own pile of drama? Maybe it’s because when you look past those gorgeous blue Texas sky eyes, there is clear sadness lurking.

  CHANNING

  It takes everything I have not to physically swoon. I’m used to the three men who frequent the diner on Fridays. They’re always in their work clothes, dirty, sweaty and all very cute. However, this new one? He’s beyond that. He’s like no man I’ve ever seen before.

  “That boy is trouble with a capital T,” Lulamae announces.

  Pausing, I turn to face her. “He is?” I ask.

  I don’t know why I even ask her. I can tell that he’s trouble. He’s wearing long sleeves, but his entire neck and hands are tattooed. I imagine that there are more beneath his clothes. My mouth waters thinking about the ink that litters his body.

  James didn’t have any marks at all, and I’ve never been attracted to men who have tattoos. However, this man? They suit him well, really really well. His longish blond hair hangs down over his forehead. He needed a haircut a few weeks ago, but if he touched it, I would probably cry. It looks amazing on him. I bite the corner of my lip as he brushes his hair off his forehead before taking a bite of his burger.

  “His daddy looked like him back in the day. Now?” she shakes her head. “Drugs, drinkin’, and womanizing takes a toll on a man. He don’t look that good anymore. I can understand the appeal.”

  “You hook up with his daddy?” I chance asking with a smirk.

  Lulamae frowns. “Don’t be smart,” she snaps. I giggle as she turns and marches off, walking toward her side of the diner.

  I tally up the individual tickets for the four power company workers and then walk back over to them. I set them face down, “Y’all can take care of it whenever you like,” I smile.

  They don’t say anything, but when I take a step back, my eyes catch the new man’s gaze. He’s watching me, no that isn’t right, he’s devouring me. I should run far away. I’m pregnant with another man’s baby. I need to focus on this child. I do not need to even be looking at this man, let alone wondering what his hair feels like, or where the tattoos on his body end.

  “Thanks,” one of the men says.

  I lift my eyes to him, just in time for him to wink at me. Smiling, I turn and leave the men again. I need to get my shit together. There is no dating, fun, or attraction to other men for me, not anymore. That part of my life is over for good. Why doesn’t my body understand that?

  Watching the four men leave a few minutes later, I sigh. It’s a lie, I don’t watch them. I watch him. I don’t know his name. I’ve never seen him before, Lulamae knows him, but something tells me that he’s lived a life, a hard one. Why do I feel like I want to hold him?

  “Stay away, girl. I’m warning you,” Lulamae announces once I’ve picked up the tickets from their table.

  I shake my head. “Not looking for another man, I have enough issues,” I snort.

  She hums, acting as if she doesn’t believe me. I don’t care. She can not believe me all day long. I am not looking for a man. Not now, not ever again. Maybe one day, in eighteen years, I can get on with my life, but obviously I don’t make the best choices, so maybe I’ll just forever be alone.

  Leaving the diner, I wave toward Lulamae who is outside smoking with the cook. Sliding into the driver’s seat of my 2000 Oldsmobile, it starts with a groan. I bite the corner of my bottom lip, hoping that it will last another eighteen years. I highly doubt that I will ever be able to afford a new car, now.

  Turning down the street that takes me home, I grip my steering wheel tightly when I see the car parked in front of my shitty little duplex. Pulling into my parking spot, I shift my car into park and grab my purse from the passenger side.

  Lifting my chin, I hold my head up as high as I can, trying not to show James just how badly he’s beaten my spirit. He’s sitting on the top step of my porch and I watch as he stands the closer I approach. “Channing,” he murmurs.

  I would like to say that the sound of his voice after a week doesn’t make me feel anything. It does. It makes me feel a mixture of lust, disgust, and longing. I hate them all. Every emotion he elicits, I hate. He doesn’t deserve even my disgust.

  “James, may I help you?” I ask.

  He takes a step toward me and I stop in my tracks. Tilting my head back, I look up into his eyes and I try to hide my flinch, but I fail. His eyes search mine and I hold my breath until he decides to speak.

  “You haven’t done it, have you?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I sigh. “I’m not going to, James. Your wife came into the diner today, can you please have her refrain from coming into my place of work?” I ask.

  He reaches for me, wrapping his hands around my bicep and shakes me slightly. “You can’t keep this baby. I refuse to let you. Don’t make me take you to court,” he growls.

  I try not to laugh in his face, but I fail. “We live in Texas. No way a judge is going to demand I terminate a child I want. You can sign your rights away if you want, I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you,” I whisper.

  Tears fill my eyes as he looks down at me. He looks angry, so pissed off that his face turns red. He shakes me two more times, then leans forward. “You will not ruin my reputation here, Channing. You will not fuck me over,” he growls.

  “If you don’t let go of me, it won’t be me who ruins anything,” I say through trembling lips.

  He releases me, and I lift my hand, rubbing my arm. “Fuck you. Nobody will believe a little whore. That’s exactly what you are, too. A little whore who wanted to tempt me, to get better grades in school. It’s all on you. It was legal what I did. You were eighteen, so don’t try to come after me there,” he growls.

  I don’t bother responding to his ridiculousness. I brush past him, sticking my key into my lock and twisting the knob. Only when my door is unlocked and opened, do I turn around.

  “I wouldn’t try to ruin your life, James. I loved you, I thought we were going to be together, forever,” I rasp. He snorts, his eyes cold as he watches me. “I’m fine on my own, this baby is fine without you. Just leave us alone.”

  James throws his hands in the air. “Fine,” he grinds out. “You won’t do the right thing? Fine, fuck it. Better pack your shit, because nobody and I mean nobody will even look at you, or smile at you again when me and Jennifer are through with you.”

  He walks away. I watch him climb into his car, start the engine, then speed off. Closing my duplex door, I lock it behind me and sink down to my ass. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I bury my face and I cry.

  Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

  James never loved me, not even a little bit. I’m not even sure if he liked me. He’ll smear my name all over town, and it should bother me. I should be upset about that but honestly? I’m not. This is such a Payton Place as it is. You can’t fart without someone judging the smell of it. I’m just pissed off that I allowed myself to be used like that, for years.

  I was raised by a single mother. I know the stigma that goes along with that, the thing is
? I don’t care. My child will be strong like I am, and hopefully they’ll never be in a position to be lured by a teacher of theirs. To be abused the way I was. For years. To be judged in the court of public opinion like I will assuredly be, by the morning.

  Taking myself to my room, I go to bed. I should eat something, I should do laundry, I should clean. I don’t. I curl beneath my sheets, and I cry myself to sleep. I feel sorry for myself. It’s the last time that I’ll allow it. James has shown his true colors. I am done, so done.

  Tomorrow starts a new day. Tomorrow I will be stronger. Tomorrow I will be braver.

  Chapter Four

  RYLAN

  I shouldn’t be here.

  Saturday morning I find myself back at the Crazy Lucy’s diner. I walked here. I have no reason to be here, none, other than seeing her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, all night I lay awake in bed. I laid there, on my mattress that was thrown into the middle of my bedroom on the floor, and thought about her long blonde hair, and her sweet round ass.

  Walking into the diner, I sit down at the same table we used yesterday afternoon. I watch the older lady across the room, smile and chat to her customers. Ripping my gaze from her, I look for Channing. When I see her walking toward me, my eyes lock onto her.

  She stumbles, causing me to smirk. “Hey,” she breathes.

  I watch as she lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. It’s down today and longer than I anticipated. It skims her forearm and falls around her in waves. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. I shouldn’t even think about it. She’s obviously pure and pretty, soft and clean. She wouldn’t even look twice at a man like me—she shouldn’t anyway.

  “Pancakes and bacon, black coffee, please,” I murmur. She smiles, nodding once. I watch her walk away. Specifically, I watch her ass.