by Lea Coll
“I guess she sees it as us helping each other out. Maybe she thinks she’ll be more approachable.” I certainly wasn’t welcoming to the woman in a suit carrying a badge.
“That’s interesting. You wouldn’t talk to her, but you agreed to let her work here.”
“Uh huh. It’s not a big deal.” Except I had no idea why I’d agreed to it. She had more to gain than me. The only solution was to keep it to one night, give her information on the neighborhood, and never see her again. Satisfied I’d solved that problem, I said, “I need to get home and check on Zach. I’ll be back at seven.”
“Take your time. I got this.” Isaac’s hand landed on my shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing with that kid.”
I moved out from under his hand. I wasn’t used to anyone else touching or praising me. “Just doing what anyone would do.” My voice sounded gruff as I tried to hide how much his words meant to me.
“No, they wouldn’t. That’s the thing. You’re putting your neck out for that boy. Most people would look the other way.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll see you later.” I knew why I did it. Zach was me fifteen years ago. My mom sat at home collecting assistance. She didn’t work but she also didn’t cook meals, help me with my homework, or care where I was. As a teen, it seemed cool but now I knew better. I had no one to help me—guide me—to tell me that there was more to life than causing trouble on the streets. Who knows what I could have accomplished had someone guided me to finish high school, go to college, get a job. I wanted Zach to see what I didn’t—that there was more to life than the street.
Even if I’d come a long way since I was a kid, I never forgot how people saw me—someone with a criminal record. No matter how much I accomplished, that conviction would always be part of me. And as soon as Taylor found out, any respect she had for me would be gone. Not that I’d given her any reason to respect me. I’d refused to talk to her. But I saw the way she reacted to my body—her eyes flared and her breath hitched when I was stocking the glasses over the bar. I was the bad boy good girls like her were attracted to.
I’d dated her type before—rich, smart, with her fancy tastes and expectations. As attracted as I was to this woman, I couldn’t forget that women like that didn’t go for men like me—they never did. I was a brief distraction in their lives—not the end goal. I’d learned that lesson the hard way when I was younger. And I’d done the dumbest thing I could have done—I’d agreed to let her work in the bar.
Each afternoon for the past six months, I’d gone home between shifts to ensure Zach ate. There was always that worry in the back of my mind that he wouldn’t be able to resist the peer pressure, that he’d get arrested, or he’d be caught in the middle of someone else’s fight and get hurt. I pulled the door open to my building, bounding up the stairs two at a time, only letting out a breath when I saw Zach, his brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, in his worn T-shirt, ripped jeans, and untied high-tops leaning against the door.
Zach pushed off my door when I approached. “Hey.”
I kept my face a careful mask around Zach. I didn’t want him to think I cared too much or he’d be gone. “You hungry?”
“That’s why I’m here.” He shifted away from the door so I could unlock it.
I’d discovered he qualified for free breakfast and lunch at school so the only meal he missed was dinner. “I’m making tacos. Get out your homework. We can work on it while I brown the meat.” I held the door open for him as he walked in, his shoulders slumped as he dropped his bag on a stool.
“Do I have to?” he asked, his face pinched.
“That’s the deal we made. You do your homework—I cook.” He didn’t do any homework when I met him, and I made it a condition of providing dinner. Thankfully, he never called me on it because I was going to feed him whether we did homework or not.
“Yeah, yeah.” But he got out books and spread them on the counter.
I liked how comfortable he’d gotten coming here. He lived with his mother who was never home, so I think he enjoyed having male attention. Not that he’d ever admit it.
“What do we have tonight?” I asked, getting out a large pot to brown the beef.
“Algebra I. I don’t know why I let you talk me into it. It’s too hard. I could have taken a remedial math class.”
I opened the package of ground beef and placed it into the pot and turned on the heat. “We talked about this. Remedial math isn’t good enough.”
“Good enough for what? You think I’m going to college?” He flipped open his book to his homework.
“Why not?” I braced my hands on the counter, ready for the same argument we had almost every day. He didn’t think he was good enough and the irony wasn’t lost on me. I struggled with the same issue all my life. But it wasn’t too late for him. He could graduate from high school with a diploma not a GED. He could go to college or technical school. He could get a job. He could go through life without a record.
“Kids like me don’t go to college.” His lips were set in a stubborn line.
“Get that out of your head right now. Anyone can go to college if you put in the effort and try hard.”
“I’m not smart enough.” He kept his eyes fixed on his textbook.
“Not true. Your grades have improved since I started helping you. It’ll get easier as it becomes a habit.” He’d neglected schoolwork for years, so it would take awhile to get caught up, but I couldn’t think of a better lesson to learn than hard work. The challenge was teaching a kid who’d been told he was nothing to believe he could be anything. I was told and believed I was ‘less than,’ and it was a difficult thing to get out of your head once it was there. I wanted to place the idea in his head that there was more for him.
“Whatever.” He bent his head over his algebra worksheet, so I turned back to the stove to brown the meat. When it was simmering in spicy taco seasoning, I turned to find Zach stuffing an official-looking paper under his textbook. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
He finally sighed and slid the paper out, placing it into my outstretched hand. It was a reminder that no one had signed up for parent-teacher conferences. “My mom ignored the email so now I need to sign it.”
“You shouldn’t forge your mother’s signature.” I didn’t blame him for not wanting the teacher to know his mother didn’t care enough to sign or come to his conference. I was sure he wanted to avoid the teacher learning the extent of his home situation, and I did too. I didn’t want family services involved.
How could she ignore her son and what was best for him? I wanted to go to the meeting, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t his parent or his relative—I was nothing to him. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know, man. I wish you could go instead.” He looked at me with a hopeful expression.
“Me too. But you know I can’t.” I hated to disappoint him, but I had no authority to go to the school on his behalf. I handed the paper back to him. “Will she sign that?”
“No. I’ll put it on the counter, but she doesn’t see it or ignores it. I don’t know. She thinks school is a waste of time. She wants me to quit when I turn sixteen to get a job to help out with the bills.”
When do you turn sixteen?” I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. What mother would tell her child to quit school to pay the bills she was supposed to be covering? I tried unclenching my teeth so he wouldn’t know how annoyed I was.
“Two months.”
“Okay, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.” I didn’t know what to do about it, but we had some time. I’d come up with a plan to help him. I wanted him to live with me so badly but there was no way that would happen. I’d checked the requirements for foster care, and not having a criminal record was one of them.
After we’d finished Zach’s homework and he’d eaten as many tacos as he could stuff in his mouth, I wrapped up the rest of the taco meat into soft wraps and packed them into a container for
him to eat later. I always told him I hated eating leftovers so he would take them home. He was a growing boy and the free meals at school were not enough.
After Zach promised he’d stay home for the evening I headed back to the bar. I’d gotten him some weights so he could work out at night. It gave him something to do and it didn’t hurt to get stronger. I’d rather he focus on working out than getting into trouble. And if he did get into trouble, he could defend himself.
I’d tended bar for Isaac since I got out of jail. My goal was to manage the bar or even open my own business one day. I lived in the same cheap apartment and didn’t own a car to save money. I didn’t think I could apply for a business loan, since I had a record.
The closer I got to work, the more I wondered if Taylor would actually show up. She’d never waitressed and she’d probably never lived in a city. She was too trusting and naïve. She probably went back to her boss and told him she wasn’t cut out for it. Because she wasn’t.
Thinking she’d be too chicken to show up, I shoved the way her legs looked in those heels out of my mind but couldn’t erase the fantasy of fucking her in the stockroom. When I arrived at six forty-five, she stood at the bar talking and laughing with Isaac. Something about seeing her so relaxed in my bar and talking to my friend set me off. It messed with the idea in my head that she didn’t fit in here. She wore black skinny jeans, which clung to her rounded ass, a red fitted tank-top, and white scuffed Converse.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, grabbing her elbow, and guiding her to the back office.
“What are you doing?” She asked, pulling her elbow from my grip. “I was talking to Isaac—the owner of the bar—about the increasing crime.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, sitting on Isaac’s desk, while she stood in front of me. “You told me to be here at seven. You’re going to help me in exchange for waitressing,
remember?” When I remained silent, realization dawned on her face. “You didn’t think I’d show up, did you?” She shook her head. “I should have known, you never even told me your name.”
She turned to walk out, and I grabbed her elbow to stop her. “Not really. I just didn’t think you’d actually show up. I mean, look at you.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Her eyes flashed with anger before she looked down at her outfit.
There was absolutely nothing fucking wrong with her. She was gorgeous—even more so when she was angry and right now her entire body vibrated with barely restrained anger. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”
She pointed her finger at my chest, jabbing several times. “You don’t know me or what I’ve been through. You can’t see through that fucking chip on your shoulder.”
I allowed a smirk to play on my lips and she stood straighter, pushing back her shoulders in response. “Why don’t you tell me how you’ve had it so rough?”
“It’s none of your business.” Hurt flashed through her eyes before she masked it. “Am I working or not?” She looked ready to bolt and I wanted her to stay more than anything. I wanted to know why she thought her life was rough. I wanted to know what caused the hurt I’d seen in her eyes, which pissed me off even more. I shouldn’t care what some spoiled princess’s life was like. It was nothing like mine and that was all that mattered.
I stepped closer to her and her scent—lavender. I wanted to cup her chin, tilting her face up while I looked into her light blue eyes, I wanted to draw out her anticipation while I hovered over her lips for a few seconds, before turning her face to the side and kissing her neck, biting her earlobe while goosebumps danced over her skin at the sensation. But seeing the hatred in her eyes, I knew there was no way she wanted that. Not after everything I’d said and done.
“My name is Gabe,” I said softly, and she sucked in a breath at my words. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her lips. “You can work tonight.”
I forced myself to focus on her eyes, which were unsure.
Should I push her away? Keep this to one night like I’d planned? “But I doubt you can handle it.”
“I’m a hard worker. I’ll pick it up.” Her voice was steady, but I heard the vulnerability in it.
I was sure when it came to book smarts she was confident, but everything about being here had thrown her off her axis—or at least I hoped it had. I wanted to shake things up for her—even if I had no idea why. “Come on. I’ll have Anna train you.”
I moved to step around her, but the office was tight and I couldn’t avoid brushing against her.
I watched her swallow in response to my proximity.
She felt the same attraction I did.
“Are you coming?” I called over my shoulder as I walked up the hall to the bar.
I introduced her to Anna before stepping behind the bar.
“What the fuck was that?” Isaac asked leaning against the back counter.
I tensed. I’d never taken any of the employees back to the office. “What?”
“Why did you drag Taylor back to the office? You better not be fucking employees in my office.”
I laughed bitterly. I’d never even thought of doing something like that until I’d met Taylor. “Uh no. I’m the last thing she wants.” Or deserves. She needed a lawyer, a doctor, a judge. Someone educated and privileged like her. If I fucked her, that’s all it would be. Nice girls didn’t want more with a tattooed convict.
“Then what was up with the caveman act?”
The truth was I had no idea. I’d seen her leaning on the bar, comfortable, and laughing like she did this every day and it set me off. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t want her to fit in here. I shook my head because the crowd was picking up. We got back to work for a few hours with no time to talk or check on Taylor.
When it died down a little, Isaac nodded his head in Taylor’s direction. “She’s doing a good job—picking it up quickly.”
My eyes sought out her red tank in the crowd. She walked with a tray held high with drinks, a flirty smile on her face, as she served a group of college kids in the corner. She was laughing and joking with them. How had I thought she was gorgeous when she was angry? She was even more beautiful when she smiled. Was it stupid to want her to smile at me like that?
“You got it bad.” Isaac’s voice was tinged with amusement.
I snapped my eyes away from Taylor. “Definitely not. She’s not my type.”
“Hot young women aren’t your type?” he asked, moving to place clean glasses in their rack above the bar.
“High maintenance prissy women aren’t my type.”
Isaac winced, looking over my shoulder.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “She’s standing behind me, isn’t she?”
“Yup. You sure know how to stick your foot in it,” he said quietly before turning to help a customer.
I turned to find Taylor’s face flushed and she avoided my eyes as she handed me her drink orders and walked away. She’d heard me. For the first time in a long while, I felt regret. Regret that I was an asshole—that I was an ex-convict and the only thing I had to show for my life was a tiny cheap apartment I rented in a bad neighborhood and this job.
“You going to fix that?” Isaac asked, a few minutes later while he was pouring beers.
“Fuck, no.” That was exactly what needed to happen because she was not my type. I didn’t want her to like me. I ignored the feelings of regret. After tonight, she’d be gone anyway.
“I want you to introduce her to Omar. He’s the one having most of the issues with theft and the police department.”
He had to be kidding. He knew how I felt about Taylor and he was requiring me to spend more time with her. I glared at him but I couldn’t say no. He was my boss. “Fine.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to apologize for what you said either.”
I shook my head. Apologies were not my style. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Chapter Three
TAYLOR
I don’t like pri
ssy high maintenance women. His words ran on an endless loop in my head the rest of the night while I tried to remember everything Anna taught me. Before I’d overheard Gabe, I’d enjoyed talking and smiling with the customers and I hadn’t dropped anything. I was right—the best way to get to know the people and this city was to immerse myself in its people, the culture.
But my hands shook every time I thought about Gabe complaining to Isaac about me. I’d never been described like that. My law school boyfriend complained that Caleb took up all my time and attention before he ended our relationship. And growing up in a small town, I knew what people said behind my back: it was a shame how Caleb would be a burden on me the rest of my life. I was the furthest thing from high maintenance. The first truly selfish thing I’d done was move here.
If Gabe found out I’d moved across the country to get away from my brother who needed me, his opinion wouldn’t improve. The more I thought about it the more I wondered what I was doing here. It was obvious he didn’t want me here. I’d finish working tonight and never see him again. That decided, I was able to relax and finish out my night. He hadn’t said what time I’d be working but at eleven I approached Isaac.
“I’m not sure what time I’m supposed to be done but I have to be at work at eight A.M. tomorrow. Is it okay if I take off now?” I didn’t want to leave Isaac if he needed me. He’d been nice to me, but I wanted to get some sleep.
“Yeah, thanks for working tonight.” He pushed a napkin over to me with a pen from his pocket. “Write your name down so I can cut you a check.”
“Oh, there’s no need. The tips were more than enough.” I smiled. It was more money than I’d made clerking in a law firm before I’d passed the bar. “It was nice to meet you.”
“I appreciate you looking into the issue with the police department.”
“Of course. It’s my job.”
“I’ll make sure you meet Omar. He’s having more issues than we are with theft. Let me check with him to figure out a time.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I untied the black apron from around my waist and placed it on the counter before navigating through the crowd and out the front door into the heat. I couldn’t believe it was only this morning I’d approached Gabe. It felt like a week or more. I took a deep breath as soon as I was out on the sidewalk. The street was different at night. It was still filled with people enjoying the night, but it was darker, more sinister.
