Damaged and the Beast

by Bijou Hunter

  “I’ve got a job already. Once I have enough money, you can live with me.”

  Tawny exhaled and I knew she was ready to cry. She and I had spent every day of her life together. When Mom and Dad had their drama, Tawny and I were together. When we didn’t know where the family would sleep at night or if we’d eat dinner, Tawny and I were together. When that ugly thing happened five years ago, Tawny and I were the only ones who knew how ugly it really was because we’d been together. Always together, but not anymore.

  “Soon, Tawny,” I whispered, afraid to speak too loudly and jinx us. “I’ll save as much money as I can and get my own place. It’s pretty here and you’ll like it.”

  “I miss you,” she said again.

  “I miss you too.”

  Silence lingered because without the ability to talk about the bad stuff, we really didn’t have anything to talk about. Dad was likely tense with keeping himself hidden. Since Tawny hated school and had dropped out at sixteen, she was around a lot for him to dump crap on. She couldn’t tell me about this though because talking about her loneliness and fear was ugly. Ugly meant silence, so we sat there for a while.

  “We’re in the same time zone so maybe we can watch TV together?” I suggested.

  “It’ll be expensive.”

  “I’ll get a good phone plan and call you every night I’m not working.”

  “I miss you,” she said, crying now. “I miss you.”

  Long after we cried ourselves into silence and hung up, I thought about those three words. I imagined Tawny in a dump of a motel in the middle of nowhere. Scared and alone, she had no one to talk to or trust. Even though I was building something new in this place, nothing would be good until my sister was with me.

  Chapter Three

  The first day of classes was overwhelming. Though I tried making friends and people were nice, it was all superficial stuff. I noticed many of the students already knew each other. They had friends and didn’t really need new ones. Before I started feeling too left out, I remembered it was the first day.

  The classes at New Hampton tended to be small with desks like in high school. The more popular classes were held in large rooms. My English Lit class was in one of those big halls and I had trouble getting comfortable with so many people whispering around me. Most of my classes were smaller though and I knew with time I would get used to the crowded ones too.

  I also liked how a majority of instructors preferred to be addressed by their first names. With such a relaxed atmosphere, I was finally getting the hang of things by the time I reached my final class.

  Spanish was my elective for the semester. My plan was to become fluent and make myself a better job candidate for the many areas where non-English speakers lived. Plus, I had always wanted to learn another language. I’d started taking Spanish in high school, but we moved and it wasn’t offered at the new school. This year with no unexpected moves, I would finally learn Spanish. Just one of the many things on my checklist for my new life.

  Running late after taking a wrong turn, I entered the room to find it mostly full. The class was heavy on girls who appeared to be lifelong friends. I found a spot towards the front where only the nerds sat including a very cute guy to my right. Glancing casually towards him, I pretended I was looking around, just so I could check him out. Tall, lean, maybe a little on the underdeveloped side, I suspected he wasn’t really done growing yet. His brown hair fell over his eyes and I caught him swiping it away a few times. I wasn’t sure his eye color until he caught me looking and the green-eyed Sweetie Pie grinned. Giving him a quick smile, I hid behind my hair and pretended to look for a pen.

  Behind me, the BFFs laughed and talked about their summer fun. I was used to being on the outs with the cliques. Most of the time, the girls had been friends since kindergarten. As the motel kid who wouldn’t be around by the end of the year, no one wanted to be my best friend. In the end, it had always been just me and Tawny. The girls behind me were tanned, pretty, and confident. Pack mentality gave girls power and I wished to find a pack of my own in college.

  The back of the class was the spot for the cool and/or indifferent people. One guy was already asleep while two chairs down was a stoner who kept looking behind him like someone was lurking. Three chairs down from the stoner was Hot Guy.

  This was a guy who got what he wanted. When I pretended to tie my shoes, I noticed the girls grinning at him. He gave them a wink like he wasn’t in the mood right then, but later he would allow one of them the privilege of servicing his needs. His dark blond hair was all kinds of messy like maybe he just came from being serviced and didn’t have time to clean up afterwards. I couldn’t see his eyes, but they were dark and menacing. Even when he winked and gave the girls a grin, Hot Guy looked ready to hit someone upside the head for blocking his view or simply breathing.

  He was exactly the kind of guy that scared the shit out of me. Wide shouldered, muscular, casually scary, tattooed, and stunning, he made my stomach flip with both lust and terror. If he ever showed interest in me, I’d both shiver with excitement and likely wet my pants.

  While Hot Guy was bad news, Sweetie Pie was more my style. He looked like the kind of guy I could marry. We would have a few kids, a dog, maybe a cat. We would spend our weekends fixing up the house and yard while the kids played. We’d have a routine of a family meal out on Saturdays or when kids ate free. Then, after the kids wore themselves out from a day of play, hubby and I would enjoy dull un-terrifying sex and fall asleep thinking about our taxes.

  Anyone else would find this fantasy lame, but I always got myself a little hot and bothered imagining it. A safe calm life with a man who loved me in a safe calm way. Sweetie Pie would never gamble away our Christmas money. He would never forget my birthday, though he might need hinting to remember our anniversary. He was the kind of guy who wanted to buy himself lots of electronic toys, but wouldn’t if the kids might lose out on getting something great from Santa.

  Sweetie Pie was boring to some, but he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t make me cry or fear his moods. He was the kind of guy I would enjoy in my life as a teacher, mom, and wife. I was a good person and deserved to have my simple dreams come true.

  Once class began, the Spanish instructor Manuel kept smiling at me. He smiled at everyone in the front rows and pretty much ignored the rest of the class who likely wasn’t paying attention anyway. The girls whispered about upcoming parties, stoner still thought someone lurked behind him, sleepy guy barely stirred during class, and Hot Guy looked bored whenever I casually glanced back at him.

  No, Manuel knew his audience and he worked hard to make Sweetie Pie, me, and a dark skinned girl feel comfortable. He helped us try a few phrases and didn’t get mad when I would only whisper my answers.

  After class as I walked the half mile to the bus stop, I suspected Spanish would be my favorite class. The day went exactly how I imagined. Feeling special to attend New Hampton, I smiled about how my future wasn’t so unattainable anymore.

  So many nights I cried in the dark and worried my dream was the stupid fantasy of a poor kid hoping for too much. Now, my dreams were coming true and I’d help them come true for Tawny too. Life wouldn’t be a mess of dependency and violence like with my parents. Life would be safe, dull, and happy.

  Still thinking about my future, I dressed in the Denny’s uniform. I’d taken my first waitressing job when I was twelve. Using fake documents, I worked at an I-HOP in Colorado. Dad had trouble getting legit jobs after he served time for theft back in his early twenties. Mom had trouble getting legit jobs when she showed up for interviews stoned. I never minded working for the family in the summers, but spending six hours working at night on top of schoolwork made me resentful.

  Having plenty of good references from the jobs I worked legally, I never found it difficult to get a shot from managers. They said I had an honest face. A lot of girls in my high schools didn’t want to waitress. They frowned at the uniforms and thought it was cooler to work
at the GAP or somewhere else in the mall. Discounts for overpriced clothes were useless to me. I wanted cash and made it with my tips. Without those tips, I wouldn’t be in college now. That was the deal Dad made with me when I was fifteen and complained about being the only one working. His first solution was to get Tawny a job, but she looked her age and most places checked her documents too closely.

  His second solution was to take my pay, but let me keep the tips for college. I opened an account in a bank and deposited my tips every day because keeping cash around a motel wasn’t safe. At the very least, I had to worry about my dad’s sticky fingers.

  Unsure how a Denny’s in a college town would rate when it came to tips, I made five dollars in two hours. Half was from college kids who tipped me in quarters. The other half was from an older regular who bossed me around a lot and was really particular. Smiling a lot, I gave him what he wanted and he tipped me well. Especially considering he only spent four dollars.

  The other waitresses were broken down between the pros and the college brats. I overheard one of the pros tell another one how I was the newest nightshift brat. They made wagers on how lazy I’d be. The other nightshift brat was exactly what they were expecting. Piper frequently disappeared into the bathroom where I suspected she was texting. I kept an eye on her tables, cleaned whenever I wasn’t working, and constantly checked the ketchup levels in the bottles.

  Despite what my family thought, kissing ass wasn’t shameful. While Dad’s side of the family would especially disagree, most of them couldn’t keep a job for more than a few months. In fact, they were often fired for texting in the bathroom.

  At eight, while I was wiping the other brat’s empty tables, Hot Guy from Spanish class showed up alone. He carried a bag and strolled to a corner table to plug in his laptop. The spot he chose was Piper’s table, but I didn’t know where she was so I decided to help out. I also wanted to talk to Hot Guy, but that was neither here nor there.

  “Root beer,” he said, without looking up.

  Maybe it was best if he didn’t look at me. Wearing a black shapeless shirt and slacks with ugly shoes, I barely wore makeup, having wiped off much of it when I sweated on the walk to work.

  Even if I had looked good, I probably didn’t want Hot Guy checking me out. He was the type of guy who didn’t do white picket fences or potlucks. He probably didn’t know who Paula Deen was and wouldn’t want kids until he was too old to bang jailbait any longer. Not much older than me, he had a long way to go before settling down out of necessity and playing tattooed family man with his twenty year old biker babe wife named Bambi.

  “Do you know what you’d like?” I asked, torn between wanting him to pay attention to me and hoping he never looked up.

  The moment I leaned fully into hoping he wouldn’t notice me, Hot Guy looked up. His brown eyes were such a rich color that I felt both drawn and repelled by their darkness. No matter the beauty of those eyes, his gaze possessed the kind of directness common with assholes. They didn’t look at people, but through them. They knew extensive eye contact was viewed as a challenge and they didn’t give a shit. They enjoyed making people uncomfortable and watching girls squirm.

  “Spanish class,” he said.

  “Yes,” was my super awesome response.

  “Freshman.”

  “Yep.”

  Love match for sure. Nothing says romantic connection like grunting out a conversation.

  “Do you know what you’d like?” I asked again.

  “Yeah,” he said, still staring at me like I was up to no good and he didn’t dare look away. “The Slamburger with seasoned fries. I’ll want dessert so don’t bring the check yet.”

  “How do you want your egg?”

  “Medium,” he said then gestured behind me. “That girl is hating on you.”

  Turning, I saw Piper glaring at me. She twisted her lips and cracked her neck like she might throw a punch.

  “That’s my table,” she muttered.

  “You were on break and he wanted to sit here.”

  “Fine, well, I’m back.”

  Unsure if Piper wanted to look at Hot Guy or knew he was a good tipper, I stepped back when she grabbed my pad and glanced over the order.

  “Medium?” she clarified, giving him a big pretty smile.

  “Nope. I’m keeping this one,” Hot Guy said, pointing to me. “We have Spanish together. Don’t we, baby?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No, but,” he said, losing the hint of a smile. “If you want, I can talk to the manager and see if he gives a shit what this one here thinks?”

  Piper and I stared at Hot Guy then she handed me the notepad and walked away.

  “I’ll put this in for you.”

  “I don’t get a thank you?”

  Nodding, I forced a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Ah, that’s right. You don’t know how well I tip hot girls from my Spanish class. Once you do, your thank you will sound more sincere.”

  “Sorry.”

  A smile lit up his face. “You look like you’re gonna cry.”

  “You’re being scary. I assumed you wanted me to cry.”

  Smile widening, he leaned back in the booth. “Please, don’t go crying on my account.”

  “Let me put this in for you.”

  Hot Guy nodded and I felt him watching me until I disappeared into the kitchen. The urge to sneak into the restroom and fix up my appearance was unbelievably strong. Then, I reminded myself how I shouldn’t flirt with tattoo boy. Even if I wanted to hook up with a guy who wouldn’t acknowledge me as soon as he was finished, Hot Guy had already seen me looking like crap. No need to clean myself up and give away how I’d nicknamed him Hot Guy.

  In the kitchen, Piper walked over and whispered, “Guys like him hit their girlfriends. Good luck with that.”

  Taking the food and a refill, I walked towards his table and noticed him typing. With his tight shirt riding up over his muscles, I could see what looked like an eagle tattoo on one arm and maybe an angel on the other. When I reached two tables away, his gaze locked onto me like a laser, heating my skin.

  “I hope the egg is okay.”

  Grinning, he lifted the bun then shrugged. “I have a cousin named Farah,” he said and I gave him a tight smile. “She’s a bitch.”

  My smile turned weird. While I couldn’t see it, I sensed the smile had gone wrong because he was creeping me out.

  “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t you want to know my name?” he asked, grabbing the ketchup bottle without taking his eyes off of me.

  “Sure. What’s your name?”

  “You don’t sound genuinely interested.”

  “I’m not begging if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

  Throwing his head back, he let out a deep rolling laugh before focusing his dark gaze on me again.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing you beg,” he said then added when I frowned, “Cooper.”

  “Anyone ever call you Coop the Poop or Poopy Coopy?” I asked, messing with him because his iron stare made me nervous.

  “No,” he muttered.

  “Not to your face anyway.”

  A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and his gaze softened. “No, not to my face.”

  “I guess there are benefits to being scary.”

  Cooper gave me a half smile, but his eyes watched me in a weird way now. Like he was memorizing me for possible dissection later. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck me. Whatever his reasons, he was creeping me out again.

  “I’ll be back.”

  For the next twenty minutes, I checked on Cooper a few times, cleaned tables, and filled salt shakers. No matter where I went in the restaurant, I felt Cooper watching me. I told myself I was crazy, but then I’d glance over to find him watching me. Not even casually either. Leaning back in his booth, he ignored the laptop and his few remaining fries.

  “Are you ready for dessert?” I finally asked.

&n
bsp; “Where are you from?”

  “I moved around a lot growing up.”

  “Family in the military?”

  “No.”

  “Why New Hampton?”

  “I’m a big fan of pork. Are you ready for dessert?”

  Cooper smiled softly, but his gaze was dark. “Did you bring a boyfriend with you to town?”

  “No,” I said, stepping back. “I’m focused on school.”

  Nodding, Cooper gave me a little grin. “Message received,” he muttered, taking the dessert menu and glancing at it. “For now anyway.”

  “I can come back.”

  “Nope. Bring me the brownie. Extra whip cream.”

  “I don’t think that comes with whip cream.”

  “It does now. Extra whip cream in fact.”

  Walking to the kitchen, I prepared the brownie. Flirting with Cooper was a mistake. Based on his laptop and the big black Harley sitting in the parking lot, he had money. Based on his looks, he was tripping over girls. Based on the way he teased me, I was on his radar as a possible hookup. I’d already messed up. Yet, if I became cold, he might make things rough for me at work. I wasn’t sure why, but I sensed he really would talk to the manager about a girl who pissed him off. I didn’t want to be that girl.

  “Here you go. Extra whipped cream.”

  Cooper shut off his laptop and closed it. “Do you do your schoolwork before your shift?”

  “I’ll get to it after I finish here.”

  Frowning, he glanced around. “You work every night?”

  “Not weekends and most Fridays. The girls with seniority get those shifts.” When his frown darkened, I continued, “Better tips.”

  Nodding, Cooper took his spoon and cut open the brownie. “You going to any parties this weekend?”

  “Doubtful. I have schoolwork and I haven’t finished unpacking.”

  “Where do you live?” he asked, mixing up the brownie and ice cream.

  “With my mom.”

  Cooper glanced up from his food and squinted like I was messing with him. “Your mom moved here with you?”