Six
Saturday morning passed in a flash between laundry, the small amount of homework I had, and a trip to the local grocery store. I had just enough time to throw my long hair in a loose braid before running out the door for work. I rarely bother doing anything but a halfhearted ponytail, but my hair is still wet and I'm not going to leave it hanging while I'm working so it can dry properly.
Maggie waves me in as soon as my foot hits the floor. “Laura, goodness I think I've already gotten used to you being here to help. We've had a steady stream all day. Can you run and check the bathrooms and then make sure all the booths are taken care of?” Maggie asks hastily, while filling a coffee with one hand and handing someone else a slice of lemon meringue pie with the other.
“Sure, be right back.” Thankfully the men's room is empty when I knock on the door, and after grabbing a few balled up paper towels from the floor and a wiping down the sinks, everything looks in order. The ladies’ room needs much of the same.
After a quick wash up, I tie on my apron, grab a half-used order pad, and get busy.
There's a short lull right before the dinner rush starts at five o'clock. It's during that time that Oliver, the guy with long blond hair, comes in. As soon as I see him my heart thuds with a heavy beat. He's utterly gorgeous but I don't think that’s what has my heart racing. No, I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the guy who said he would come here with Oliver and Milo yesterday and never showed.
I forget I'm supposed to go unnoticed, that I should stay far away from this boy and his friends. I meet his clear green eyes and he smiles, he hooks his thumb in his front pocket and shifts his shoulder, angling closer to me. I'm not sure I would remember my own name if someone asked me.
“Hi Laura, you guys been busy?” He's got a really nice voice, a smooth baritone, nothing nearly as deep as Dante’s but still very soothing.
“I just got in at three, but it's been pretty busy.”
Oliver rubs his hands together like he's anticipating something. “Alright, where do ya need me?”
I'm sure my face shows the confusion I'm feeling. Is he asking where to sit? People usually seat themselves. My eyes dart over his shoulder looking for Maggie.
I feel a quick brush along my upper arm, the static I've come to expect from Dante’s touch jolts me, forcing me to gaze up at Oliver who's moved much closer.
He's staring right back at me, his eyes wide and his pupils blown huge, almost covering his clear green irises.
“Ollie,”
Maggie booms, ripping through the moment. We both startle, I even jump back like I was too close to something that was going to get me in trouble. I think I might just have been.
“Glad you could still make it sweetheart. Laura's been doing fine, but I won't turn down the extra help.”
The purpose of his question finally clicks into place, he's working, and he was asking which section he'd be on.
I'm so clueless, what else could this beautiful boy have meant? A nervous giggle almost escapes when I realize how silly I'm being.
Recovering quickly Oliver, or Ollie as Maggie calls him, gives her a megawatt smile before walking over to the counter, where he winks at me.
Now I'm really flustered.
The rest of the night I try to keep my distance, but it seems impossible when we're working together. Every second he's not taking orders or filling drinks, he's right behind me helping with my tables. I don't imagine he's insinuating I'm not capable, in fact he's told me how great I'm doing more than once. After working with him the past few hours, he seems like the sort who has a problem sitting still, he's constantly moving.
By the end of the night I'm pretty beat. Oliver kept me on my proverbial social toes all evening. Throwing random questions at me left and right, I also spent way too much time checking the door every time the bell jingled to see if Dante would show up.
“Well, that's it for me Maggie,” I tell her after finishing mopping the bathrooms. She looks up from behind the counter with a small smile.
“Sounds good Hun.” Oliver comes out from behind the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen. I wasn't sure if he was still here, since I'd been cleaning the bathrooms for a while.
“Perfect timing Ollie, you can give Laura a ride home. I hate that she walks so late at night.”
His eyes jerk over to mine accusingly. “You walk? Why doesn't someone pick you up?”
I'm already dismissing the idea while he's speaking. There's no way I want him knowing I live in an old broken down mobile home.
“That's really okay, I don't mind walking, it's good exercise.” I ignore his question altogether. Oliver snorts and wraps Maggie in a hug, which manages to make the robust woman seem small. She pats his back in an affectionate manor.
“You see Laura home safe Ollie. I'll see you and the boys tomorrow.” Now it's my turn to be ignored.
“Come on little Gray.”
“Huh?” I ask in confusion, while Oliver grabs my arm and tows me out the door. That same electric fuzziness is tingling up and down my arm, distracting me from his soft manhandling as he guides me into his car, and wondering why he called me Gray.
With another brush down my arm, I find myself sitting in the front seat of an older muscle car as Oliver closes the door behind me.
He jumps in the driver seat and cranks the engine, which purrs to life with a throaty growl. I can feel the motor. My hands immediately widen, one reaching for the door, the other for the center console.
Oliver looks over at me when I do. He grabs my hand and rolls his eyes. “This is Dante’s car.” He shakes his head like he's exasperated and his statement should explain everything.
He doesn't let go of my hand for a few seconds, but when he does, he places it on my lap with a small pat.
“Where to?” he asks, while backing out using the mirrors.
Now remembering he's driving me home, I suffer a moment of panic. I don’t even care that he's going to see where I live at this point. I have bigger problems. I need to avoid my mother seeing I'm getting a ride home at all costs. I don't even know the kind of reaction that would prompt from her.
“Um, just down that road a bit, then turn left.” Once we're out of the parking lot I try to get him to drop me off. “This is fine. I can walk from here.” His head whips to the side, scrutinizing me.
“We've gone like ten feet. And there are no houses here, I think I'd know.” Under his breath he adds, “we've been waiting here long enough.”
Again, he confuses me. I can't address that now though. I have other more important things to deal with. “Listen, it's just up the road a little bit, but I need you to promise you’ll drop me off at the entrance.” I glance over at him, imploring him with my eyes. “My mom can't know I got a ride. I'd be in a lot of trouble.”
Olive hits the brakes hard. Thankfully I’m latched in with the lap belt or I would have just bounced off the dashboard. My hands fly out and smack it anyway. His arm shoots out and braces me, holding me back in the seat more effectively than any shoulder belt could.
“Oh holy shit! I'm so sorry, are you okay?”
I nod, still conscious of his arm across my chest, right above my breasts.
“What was that, a deer or something?” I didn't see anything, but I was looking at him, not the road. His arm falls away slowly, and he grabs the steering wheel tight enough that I hear it creak.
“Something,” he mutters still at a dead stop.
Lifting his foot off the brake he slowly drives again. “Are you sure you're okay, nothing hurts?”
“I'm fine but you need to keep your eyes on the road.” I motion to the windshield.
“Sorry,” he mumbles again. “What kind of trouble would you be in? Like you'd get grounded or something?” He gives me the side eye, still watching the road like I asked.
“No, not grounded,” I hedge.
“Well then what?”
I sigh. “It's nothing like you're probably assuming. More li
ke it would cause trouble rather than I'd actually get in trouble.”
Oliver looks over at me again, his eyes narrowed. I wave my hand forward. “Nothing to see here.”
“Ha,” he belts out, although it's not really a laugh but more of an exclamation.
“Why would it cause trouble?” he asks after a few seconds, shifting in his seat.
“Will you promise to drop me at the entrance?”
“Are you bargaining with me, like if I promise to drop you where you want you'll tell me?” He sounds slightly outraged. I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.
“I didn't ask you to drive me, but yes, if you promise I'll tell you all about my private life just so it will abate your curiosity.” It comes out a little snider than I'd meant it to, but I think I got my point across.
Oliver sighs and his shoulders fall. “All right, I promise.” His tone is flat. When I don't speak right away, he looks over at me.
“Right here is fine.” I gesture to the old wooden sign leading to a gravel path. His eyes squint and he tries to read in the darkness. “Turtle Resort?” he whispers. The horror I see on his face reaffirms why I don't let anyone close. No one else understands my mom. Hell, most days I don't either, but I still feel oddly defensive about my life. We're making due, doing the best we can for now.
Indignant anger spikes and I don't want to give him any explanation now. I have to though; I have a feeling if I don't keep my word, neither will he.
“My mom’s sick, okay? This car is loud and it would draw too much attention, maybe even wake her up if she's asleep. It would worry her if she found out I was riding with a stranger.” I say the last few words like an accusation. As soon as I'm done speaking, I click the seatbelt off and I'm out the door the next second.
I hear him curse once before the door slams shut. The engine revs and I assume he's taking off as I run down the gravel drive, past the front pond, and toward the back of the campground.
I'm strangely numb when I untangle my keys from the change in the bottom of my bag. I was so mortified, filled with a hot seed of anger a few moments ago, and now it feels weird being away from him.
I think I was hoping, without even realizing it, that things could be different now. That I could somehow become more of a real person instead of the shell I feel like now.
The reality is that nothing has changed. My mom may decide we need to move tomorrow, and she may spiral into an episode when I open this door. I don't think she'll ever be able to accept not all people are out to get us, that it might be okay to be known by someone.
The whole RV is dark when I get inside. My throat tightens before I even understand the implications. I've never walked into a dark house, no matter how late I've gotten in from work. Instinctually, I know something's wrong.
“Mom.” My voice is little more than a croak, but the urgency can't be denied.
I'm met with silence. I drop my bag on the floor and rush to the light. I'm not sure what I think I'll find when the room illuminates, but I feel an overwhelming sense of relief when everything looks exactly like it did when I left this afternoon.
“Mom, where are you?” I call out as I make my way to the back of the RV, still filled with nervous tension. I know she doesn't leave the RV anymore, hell, even when I go to the grocery store she pulls the curtains that cordons off the living space from the driver’s seat and waits for me to get back.
The bed is unmade, but that's how I left it, so it isn’t surprising. What scares the ever-loving shit out of me is that her small pile of clothes, which I just separated out of the clean laundry, are gone. One look in the overhead cupboard and I realize so is the small overnight bag we've had for years. The one we'd use when mom was still working and we had enough money to splurge on a hotel room occasionally. She'd always make sure it was one with an indoor pool, so we could swim in the evening when most of the other people were already back in their rooms.
I run to the tiny bathroom I barely ever use, preferring the bathhouses to the half shower and plastic toilet, and find one of the few possessions my mother holds dear gone too. The white plastic box, which is supposed to look like marble, is still here, but the ring I know was inside is gone.
She stopped wearing it years ago. I thought she might have sold it back when she had a tough time making due before I started working. But a few years ago I was under the sink looking for pads that weren't there, and I’d found this box attached to the underside of the sink.
I'm pretty sure my dad gave it to her; she always wore it on the ring finger of her left hand. I picture the unusual stone and the pretty pinkish metal the surrounded it in my mind and wonder how long it's been gone, or if she really left and she took it with her. Bewildered, I get ready for bed, hoping she will be back when I wake up.
The next morning I'm completely lost. I haven't slept all night and now it's time to work. I'm torn, I almost want to stay here and wait, just in case she might come back, but I can't lose this job and I think that's exactly what would happen if I didn't show up. I haven't even been working there a full week yet. Not to mention I have bills that need paying, and seeing that the freezer cash is gone along with my mom, I make the decision. I'd better get to work.
Seven
Maggie knows there's something wrong. I can tell by the sidelong glance she keeps throwing my way, at least I hope that's all it is. I close my eyes and take two long breaths, telling myself to pull it together. I have two hours left of my shift and I can fall apart when I get home.
I've been working in a daze. I can't remember half of the faces I've served this morning. I'm barely functioning on autopilot.
I have absolutely no idea where my mom could have gone, no clue where to look. What's even worse? I can't figure out why she would have left.
I feel a warm palm land on my shoulder and jump. Turning, I see Maggie's kind eyes searching my face. “You okay Laura?”
“Yes, of course,” I answer automatically and begin scanning the diner. I wonder how long I've been zoned out this time. I see a couple empty glasses at one of my tables, so I give Maggie a weak smile over my shoulder and rush over for the reprieve.
When my shift is done, I've had a complete about-face. I'm now terrified to leave because I'm pretty sure I'll be returning to an empty RV.
As I'm pushing out of the door, it gets pulled from the outside, and I nearly fall when the weight I was pushing against disappears.
“Sorry, excuse me,” I mutter robotically as two hands, hands which give me an electric jolt, grab my upper arms. I look up and meet a stunning pair of amber colored eyes. Dante.
He still hasn't let go of me and I have an overwhelming need to bury my head in his chest. Not only that, but I want to tell him my mom is gone. That she left me alone and I have no idea what to do.
Without my consent my foot slides forward, bringing us closer, and his eyes widen a fraction. It's enough to remind me I don't know him, and he certainly doesn't know me. When I pull away, I immediately feel the loss of his touch. Not only the physical touch but also the heady tingling it brings with it. His mouth opens and his head tilts. “Laura?”
He doesn't have to say anything else; I know he's asking me about five questions with the utterance of my name.
“Sorry. I wasn't paying attention,” I reply with yet another apology. I sidestep him, allowing him to move out of the entry. He only takes two steps then moves so he's facing me again. As I start to walk through the door, I hear him say, “The guys are meeting me here. Wanna grab a bite with us?” I spin back around to look at him, wondering if he's just throwing me a bone to be nice, or if he feels the strangeness between us and is just as curious about it as I am.
His wide shoulders are rounded down, and his hands are shoved deep in the front pockets of his dark jeans. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost nervous, but right now in this moment, a moment that has me questioning just about everything. I don't care that I can't have friends. I don't care that he's probably just feeling s
orry for me, because I need this distraction. I need just a few more minutes before I try to figure out what's happening in my life and what I could have possibly done to make my mom leave.
“Yes,” I respond quickly before I change my mind. Again his eyes widen and he looks at me like I might be about to launch myself at him, but a slow smile creeps over his face, his whole face, and let me tell you, it makes my knees a little weak.
“Really?” he says, almost in a whisper. A denial comes to my tongue quickly, thinking he was just offering to be nice. Damn it. “Great. I mean good, that's good. Uh, here okay?” He motions to the first booth.
Now I'm the one giving him the side eye, since he's acting nervous again. I slide into the booth with a little hop to get centered. He bends to sit on the opposite side but jerks right back up, taking a few steps and coming to my side. While he's doing this, the door jingles and the Milo and Oliver walk in.
All three of them freeze for all of two seconds. Then they continue over to the table, both of them wearing easy smiles, and I'm instantly on edge.
Dante slowly slides his big body into the bench seat next to me. Once I realize what's happening I scoot over into the corner, feeling a bit trapped.
Oliver moves into the bench across from us, his eyes are bright when he smiles at me. Milo is quick to follow.
It's silent as my eyes dart everywhere but their faces. Eventually I let my gaze drop to my hands, puddled in my lap. Awkward tension has me tightening my shoulders and arms, and I begin shrinking myself into the corner.
“Sooo,” an unfamiliar voice sighs in an long exhale. I hear a thud under the table and quick gasp. At that exact moment Dante turns to face me in the booth.
“I'm not sure if you've met Milo yet,” Dante says as an introduction. I glance up just in time to see Milo mouth the word 'dick' to Dante, then his eyes find mine.
Infinity Chronicles Book One: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Series Page 5
