by Alla Kar
I jerk to the side and look at the tall guy standing next to me. His head is bleeding, a shallow gash diagonal down his forehead toward his eye. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. What—what the hell happened? Is anyone else alive?”
The man frowns and steps to the side, revealing a shivering red haired girl with tears streaming down her face. “Oh, God,” I whisper. “Let me—,” I tilt my head toward Bella. “I think she’s breathing. Let me check.”
“I’m Taborie,” he says, offering me his hand. I take it and squeeze. “We’re going to make it out of here,” he says calmly before ushering the little crying girl off of the sinking plane.
My gaze drifts back to Bella. She’s going to be fine. She’s going to make it. Carefully, I tuck her hair behind her ears and stand up to check on Emily. The rest of my stomach hurls up my throat. Her blonde hair is bloody and tangled in the seatbelt. The ceiling of the plane above her is halfway down; a piece of it had cut her arm completely off, causing her to bleed to death.
Terror fills me and I begin to grab Emily. I haul her lifeless body over my shoulder and push my way through the plane. I hardly remember much after this. I knew where I put her body and where to put Jordan’s when I come back to get him.
Water has taken over most of the plane. I don’t have much time before I have to go and get Bella. God, how are you supposed to deal with this kind of problem? My body weakens as I lay Jordan’s body down next to Emily’s.
His brown eyes are open, staring up at me in a plea to save him. But there is no saving him. I stare into those lifeless eyes, searching for a sign of my friend but he is gone.
And I never got to tell him the truth.
And now I never will.
***
The slamming of the next-door neighbor’s door wakes me. She has two kids that are always running up and down the breezeways, lighting matches to cat’s tails and throwing anything they can salvage at my door.
My head slumps from the side of the bed and all my blood starts running to my head. Christ. I roll over and stare up at the ceiling. The sun looks like it’s pretty far down to be so early so I check my alarm clock.
Three fifteen, shit. I fumble over the sheets and hit the floor with a thud. My shift at Outback started fifteen minutes ago and this is my third strike. I run my fingers through my hair and search my messy room for my black outfit.
Ten minutes later I’m running toward my Jeep and hightailing it out of the parking lot.
Its three forty five when I walk into the kitchen but my time card isn’t in its place. “Fuck,” I whisper.
“Late again?” Lesley asks, giving me an overly flirty smile.
I shrug. “Yep, looks like I’m in trouble.”
She smiles, digs into her jeans pocket and hands me a slip of paper. “In case you’re fired, here is my number. We should hang out sometime.” She leaves before I answer her.
“Beau Richards,” I hear and stiffen at the wannabe authority oozing out of this guy’s voice.
I turn and look at Shane—the owner’s son—and give him a slight bow. “Yes, you’re highness. How may I help you?”
He scowls, jabs his finger over his shoulder and tilts his long skinny nose into the air. “In my office, Richards. Now.”
I groan, and follow his narrow ass into his office, taking a seat in the foldout chair across from his desk. He curls his hands around the edge of his desk and makes a grand show of looking irritated.
“What did I tell you, Beau?” He closes his eyes, placing his fist to his forehead. “Haven’t we already had this conversation? Twice before?”
I lean backwards, resting my interlaced fingers on my stomach. “I believe we have, sir. And I believe that we both know where this conversation is going to end if you don’t lose the attitude.”
“You’re not in a predicament to try and make the calls,” he laughs. “And I think Outback is better off without you, Beau. We’re going to have to let you go.”
Nodding my head, I slowly rise and stare down at him. “Fuck you.” Then I walk out.
***
“Are you sure they’re hiring?” I ask.
Cody sighs into the phone. “Yes. Not that your dumbass deserves my never-ending flow of useful information.”
“You sound like a woman.”
“You calling me a woman, bro? Do I need to come whoop your ass?”
I smile into the phone. “You can try, sure. But you’ll have to wait until after my interview.”
I hang up, slipping my phone into my pocket as I climb out of my Jeep. I’ve been to Maddie’s more times than I can count. And I know the owner Madison pretty well too. I fucked her once—we were super drunk, and we don’t count it—so I’m hoping my sex was good enough to land me a job. Or she has pity on my poor pathetic jobless ass.
The dingy underground bar is practically vacant at four in the afternoon. A few drunks are hunkered over the bar, like in the movies but besides that it’s dead.
Tapping my fingers against the bar, I clear my throat loudly. Maddie turns, swinging her long red hair and puckering her lips. “Beau Richards, long time no see, sweet boy.”
I shrug my shoulders and curl my finger at her. “Come here and I’ll show you how sweet I can be.”
She flutters her lashes and sashays over to me, leans over and plants a kiss to my cheek. “Now what’s really got you at my bar in the middle of the day? I hope not for a drink?”
“No,” I take the drink she slides me. “I’m here for a job. My friend Cody told me you were hiring for security.”
She lifts a brow and settles her elbows on the counter. “Beau wants a job. Now, I think I may enjoy you obeying my every wish.”
I smirk over at her. “Quit pulling my balls, Maddie. What’s up with the job?”
She laughs. “You got the job, Kid.”
“Really?” I ask. “You’re not going to make me fill out an application? Or see my criminal history?”
She turns and places her hand on her hip. “Beau, you’re officially hired. Be here tomorrow night at eight. You’ll be paid under the table sixty dollars a night. Is that okay?”
I give her a grin. “Thanks, Maddie.”
***
My apartment is chilly when I walk inside. It’s something about walking into a house with no one there—a feeling of loneliness is somehow automatically present. Weighing on you as soon as you step through that threshold.
The dish I shattered from earlier is still in shards on my dining room floor.
I scrub my hands down my face and grab the broom. The entire house is clean thirty minutes later. Fisting my shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it into my laundry basket.
Ten minutes later, I step into my shower, letting the scorching water slide down my back. All the tension from the last six months is building in my shoulders. It’s a slow torturous death.
My eyes close and soon I’m thinking about her. Like always. Like every goddamn second of the day. Her soft brown hair was down her shoulders at the party. Her dress tight against her curves. That confused deer in the headlight look that she always gets when she’s about to bolt was there. I knew she was going to run before she did.
I groan, bringing my hand up to stroke myself. I tell myself I won’t do this—to stop torturing myself but I can’t. I love her. It’s just as simple as that. I love Annabelle to my core. And I can’t have her.
I replay images of her I have locked away in that secret ‘make it go away’ file you have in your head. And I stroke myself harder. Dreaming of having her against me. Around me.
And I make myself believe it. I fight the doubt, the fear, the dread and push past it. Because I have faith. It may be little but it’s there.
By the time the water is starting to turn cooler, I release into the shower, pressing against the wall for support.
This has to get better.
My heart can’t take anymore.
Chapter Twelve
Bella
<
br /> Homes’ purring sounds more like a lawnmower starting in my ear.
I turn, pressing my head into the pillow to drown out the ringing of my alarm. Homes worms his way over to my other side and starts rubbing his head against mine.
I sigh, open one eye and watch as he attempts to wake me. “Persistence is key, I imagine,” I say, scratching underneath his chin.
I jump up and slam my fists down on my screaming alarm before dragging myself up and out of bed.
An hour later, I walk into the kitchen, open my laptop and open my Pop-Tart. Ashley moans and rubs her sleepy eyes. “Your damn cat woke me, Bella. I almost strangled him. If you care for that thing you better keep him away from me in the mornings.”
I pull open Facebook and see I have a new message. The only people that write me on FB are my family. I click on the little letter and wait as it pulls up. “My cat saves your lazy ass every day from being late.”
“Yeah, right. Your cat hates me.” She sits in front of me and rests her head against the kitchen table.
When the message pulls up I see Sissy Daultry’s name. Emily’s little sister. I stare at the message until my eyes blur from the light of the computer screen.
I miss you.
Tears pull at the corners of my eyes and I shut my laptop. The fear of seeing her again scares me to death. She was so sad at the funeral, hunkered down against her dad’s side as they lay her sister in the ground.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that more letters came for you yesterday. I put them on your dresser,” Ashley mumbles.
“Thanks,” I whisper. I know I’m not going to answer the letters because I already know who they’re from. Kat. More tears pull at my eyes. I promised to be her sister and I can’t even reply to her letter? What the hell is wrong with me?
Every time I go to open the letters, I freeze. Fear and sadness take over begging me not to do this. Thinking about the wreck, the deaths only break my heart a little more than it’s already broken.
I’m just not ready.
“You’re leaving already? Put your cat in your room so I can go back to sleep.”
Pushing my Pop-Tart into my bag, I give her a yeah right look. “Ashley, I’m late. You take your cat killing ass in there and put him in. I’m headed to class. I’ll see you after work tonight.”
She groans, letting her head fall against the table with a thwack.
***
After class, I change into my work clothes in the bathroom of the English building. We call it our Sookie Stackhouse look at work. Because it’s just that. The only difference is the Maddie’s patch that’s on the boob instead of Merlot’s.
The bar is starting to fill up with our after work sleeze balls now. I push through the swinging double doors, tying my hair into a high ponytail before clocking in.
Gin slaps my butt as I walk behind the bar and grab my ticket book. “Hey, sweet thang. Mr. Adams is here looking for you.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Ha. Ha. I’m not taking that old man today. It’s Bethany’s turn.”
She snorts. “Dully noted but you know you love his ten dollar tips.”
I smile. “Sometimes money isn’t worth being ogled by a man with no teeth that’s old enough to be your grandparent. I’m drawing the line.”
She laughs. “Oh, it looks like we’re going to have a new security guard starting tonight. Maddie hired him.” She turns to me, her pixie cut hair down for a change. “He’s a real hottie too. Wait until you see him.”
I lift a brow but don’t say anything else. I don’t have time for anybody right now and even if I did, I don’t know if I’m ready.
Bethany waves to me, arm over her head, gesturing over toward my section from across the restaurant where I have a table. I give her a nod and walk toward my first table.
After an hour of serving the middle class assholes, the younger crowd starts to make their way through. A local indie rock band is playing tonight and with them come the groupies and bored college kids.
I slam my ticket book down and grab the crown and coke that Gin slides toward me. “Check the new guy out when you take that to your table. He’s at the security station.”
Nodding her way, I slip back to the back table and slide the guy’s drink in front of him. “Here ya go, hon.”
I slip my ticket book into my apron and make my way toward the front of the club where security is located. People are filtering in, creating a huge barrier from me and the door.
“Damn it,” I whisper, elbowing my way to the front. I walk past the front counter and turn the corner to security. My heart drops from my chest. He’s standing in front of the door, hands placed in front of him. His dark chocolate colored hair almost matches the deep V-neck shirt he’s wearing and I can only imagine how blue his eyes look in comparison.
The aviator glasses make it impossible for me to know if he’s looking at me. I hope he isn’t because I’m shaking. Standing in a room full of people, scared out of my mind. He’s here.
I know when he sees me, because his body tightens, his thick lips press into a hard line. And he starts slowly shaking his head in a way that makes my panties wet.
A person to my left bumps into me, and I lose the trance, bolting out of the room before I have a meltdown.
“I’ll just stay on my side of the restaurant and out of site,” I mumble, scratching my head.
Gin snaps her fingers in front of my face and gives me a worried look. “Are you talking to yourself? Is this normal for you?”
I frown. “I’m fine. Just overwhelmed with school—and stuff.”
She pulls at one of the ten earrings in her ear and nods. “Gets to you sometimes.”
“Bella!”
I jump, turning to see Maddie tapping her heel clad foot at me. “I need you to take Tina’s shift in 30-37. She’s fired. Can you do that for me?”
What? No. No. No. I begin to shake my head and Maddie lifts a brow, daring me to say no. “Of course.” I sigh.
Bethany bounces up to me and points toward table 32. “First all guy table of the night, Bella. Go work your stuff, girlie.” She bumps her hip against mine.
I give her a fake smile and walk toward the table. It’s five of them; they look like they’re already drunk. I roll my eyes, digging my ticket book from my apron and opening it as I approach the table. “What can I get you guys to drink tonight?”
The closest one to me, leans against the table and gives me his best panty-dropper frat boy smile. “How about a tall glass of brunette tonight, baby?”
Do these lines really work?
I shrug. “How about you order from the menu, big boy.”
He winks and they all give me their drink orders before I pull away and go put it into the computer. My gaze keeps lingering on the door, watching him watch me from behind his shades. I know he’s looking. Body language is more evident than words most of the time. Especially when it’s his body language.
When the boy’s drinks are finished, I bring them out and start to take their order. “How about you?”
The same guy from before, reaches out wrapping his huge paw around my waist, dragging me closer to the table. “How about I get your number now, so that we can make plans for tonight?”
I forcefully pull myself away. “No, my number isn’t for sale. Can you please tell me what you want to eat?”
He furrows his perfectly plucked eyebrows and slides his arm back out and around me. “I’ve already told you, sweetheart. You’re what I want for dinner tonight. That ass looks delicious.”
A few of his buddies laugh underneath their breaths. “Let go,” I whisper, snatching myself away, further this time. “If you don’t stop I’m going to get the manager. Just tell me what you want to eat.”
They laugh, the pushy guy wipes his blond hair from his forehead and gives me another smile. “You must not put out?”
I clench my ticket book. “What can I get you to eat?”
“That throbbing pussy, that’s what I want to eat.�
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Redness swarms my vision and my body heats. I go to turn when I run into someone hard. When his scent hits me, I know it’s him without looking up. “Go to the back.”
I tremble at his voice. Deep and gritty. I take a few steps, just to put distance between the two of us and turn back to stare. “I’m asking you to leave,” he says. By the look of things—and the large group of guys—I don’t think this is going to end well.
The guy laughs, tossing his hand up in a fuck off gesture. “You can’t make me leave. I’m a fucking paying customer. If the bitch would just take my goddamn—,”
Thud. The buffoon is face first into the table, when he comes up he clutches his bleeding nose. “Fucker! I’ll kill you!”
The rest of his ape friends jump up in an attempt to jump Beau. But security is on it before it begins. Beau grips the back of his neck and drags him from the booth, slinging him down onto the tile floor. “Get up, big man. Come on. Get up and fight.”
Oh, shit.
The guy slumps over and holds his bleeding nose. “That’s what I fucking thought!” Beau yells, the other bouncers drag the bleeding guy from the floor, leaving Beau heaving in front of me.
The crowd starts to die down and I let out the breath I was holding. As soon as Beau turns, I bolt from his line of sight. But I know it was too late. He’s seen me. I feel his anger—his energy—following me from the room. I stop at one of my tables for comfort to keep him from me, but it doesn’t work.
He swings me around and I’m face to face with him. Haunting blue eyes pin me to my place on this floor. I feel two inches tall and I hate that he makes me feel this way.
“What do you want?” I bite out.
He grins, it’s sexy as hell but bitter. “You know goddamn well what I want, Bella. Don’t play shit with me.”
I grind my teeth together and turn to look at the table beside us. “I’m so sorry,” I mumble, taking a few steps to my left and trying to sidestep Beau.
It doesn’t work.
He pulls me to the waitress station to the left, slamming me into the wall, hovering over my small body. “Talk to me,” he demands. It isn’t a question but I’m not answering. “You’ve been ignoring my emails. My texts. My calls. Talk. To. Me. Please.”
