Steady (Pleasant Valley Book 3)

by Anna Brooks

  The past few years have been nice; I’ve not had to run myself ragged working so much that I lose sleep and weight like I used to. But I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. I just wish I didn’t have to. I had a taste of the good life—although some would argue that living with a man who ended up being a murderer and is now in jail isn’t the good life. But it was better than anything I’d had before. He was actually nice to me; I had no reason to suspect he was a crazy person.

  The front door chimes as I walk in, and I hear a giggle. The owner’s daughter, Rayne, comes through the kitchen entrance with her boyfriend, Vaughn, who owns the tattoo shop next door.

  “Hey, Polly,” she says.

  Vaughn nods at me as he makes his way to the door I just entered. I walk to the back to hang up my purse and avoid having to see or listen to them make out. They’re a little disgusting. For a grown ass couple, they act like teenagers.

  Bitter much, Polly?

  The absolute last thing on my mind is a man. I don’t need one to make me happy, and I don’t need one to take care of me. Never again. I’m honestly fine with being alone. I’m sticking with the independence thing until I die.

  When she comes through to the kitchen, she’s got a dreamy look on her face, and it’s all I have in me not to gag. “No parents today?” I ask. Normally, her parents, the owners, come in first and do most of the prep work.

  “No. They stayed an extra day at the casino. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I could have come early and helped.”

  “It’s okay. I got it done. Vaughn helped, too.”

  “Well”—I wrap my apron around my waist—“if you ever need help, just give me a call.”

  “I will. Thanks, Polly.”

  I walk out front to roll some silverware and contemplate my predicament. I don’t have a cell phone, so how would she even get a hold of me? I never needed one before and can’t afford to buy one right now. Shit. I really need to find a place to live so I can at least get a landline.

  One of the regular customers comes in at eleven on the dot, and before he even sits down, I write his order for the daily special, grilled cheese and creamy tomato soup, then walk it to the window and give it to Rayne so she can make it.

  When her parents aren’t here, it’s definitely more hectic, but I like it because that means I’m the only one on the floor, so I get to keep all the tips.

  The day flies by, and before I get home, I stop at the store and buy a newspaper. Do people still put ads in the paper? I probably should have looked for another job months ago, but I was procrastinating and in denial. I’ve been in denial about a lot of things… mainly, how I let another guy dupe me.

  Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined how messed up the man I was living with would turn out to be, and that’s a hard pill to swallow… especially since he’s not the first man to take advantage of me. I met Richard about four years ago when I was at my lowest. He found me next to a dumpster like a piece of trash. I was behind a building, and he happened to be walking through the alley. I’m certain if he hadn’t come back there, I would have died.

  Although, at that point, I didn’t care either way. I was so strung out and in so much pain that death would have been welcomed. The memory of what I was feeling is still fresh, but if you held a gun to my head and asked me how I ended up where I was that day, I’d pull the trigger for you because I have no recollection. I mean, I know who doped me up, but I don’t know how I got to the point that I wasn’t even able to lift my head.

  What I do remember is the pain my body went through in the weeks and months after. Pain like I’d never experienced before in my life. Pain I didn’t think I would be able to endure. Richard took me to the hospital immediately, and when I was lucid enough, I desperately fought to get out. I fought him, and I fought myself. I fought the doctors and nurses and therapists. I wanted out; I wanted to die. What was the point in living when I didn’t have anything or anyone to live for?

  Looking back, though, I didn’t know any different. I didn’t know what he was trying to do. I’d never had anyone care enough to help me instead of hinder me. When you literally have nobody but yourself, you learn very quickly how cruel the world is. How cold people are. And that no matter how low you fall, there’s always another level of submersion.

  When I was kicked out of the foster care system at eighteen, I did what I had to. I needed food, and in order to get food, I needed money. In order to make money, I needed a job. But who would hire a girl with no work experience and no skills? Not many. I searched, I hunted, I demanded. And I finally had a plan.

  If I didn’t fight for me, nobody else would. I refused to become a statistic. I wanted better. I didn’t want perfect; I only wanted semi-normal. Safe. Stability. I didn’t think those things were too much to ask for. And Richard, he provided those things. He was strange to a lot of people, but it was easy for me to overlook his weird behavior because to me, he was the only person who cared about me. And that meant something.

  All I’m trying to do is live day by day without him. I’m trying to come to terms with my situation now. Hoping for something… anything that will help get me through.

  30 days later

  The driver’s side window on the crapper car Richard bought me is rolled down even though there is a chill in the air. I sit across the street from my house—well, what was my house—as a bunch of people walk in and out of it. Some carrying furniture, some with suits, some with cleaning supplies.

  This is it. I’ve officially been kicked out. The final chapter on that place is definitively finished. I start the loud engine and roll the window up then drive away. I was lucky enough to score a super cheap apartment above the art studio downtown. Rent is affordable since it includes the utilities, and its proximity to The Lunchbox is a bonus. That was a miracle to find. It’s small—a studio—but it’s mine. I’ve never had anything that’s just mine. Only mine.

  Now, it’s time to interview for another job to afford said apartment plus save money for the future. When I arrive in front of the nightclub, I look in the rearview mirror, realizing it’s probably going to fall off any day now. Instead of angling it down, I push myself up to avoid the possibility of it breaking. I wonder if the guy I have an interview with will notice how empty my eyes are. How for the past few years they actually sparkled a little, but now that I’m back to being alone, they’re dull. I wonder if he’ll notice how sad I really am.

  I take a moment to feel sorry for myself then give my head a shake, my blonde hair moving freely with it. My fingers shake slightly as I take the key out of the ignition, but when I get out of the car and begin walking to the door, the nerves go away.

  To get this job, I need to be confident. I have to show them I can do this. That I can handle it. I need this job. I don’t want to quit the diner, so I need something in the evening, and this is perfect.

  The heavy door makes my bicep burn when I pull it open. Before I’m fully into the building, a very large, very attractive, and very familiar man waves at me. “Holy shit. You’re the Polly coming in to interview?”

  “That’d be me.” I smile and walk closer to Brad. He used to be a regular at the diner. His partner, Kennedy, is Rayne’s best friend.

  “I didn’t put two and two together.” He stands from the booth he’s in and gives me a hug. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He motions to the booth he just vacated, and I slide in opposite him. “You just made my day so much easier.”

  It’s not often that I’m given a compliment like that, so naturally, my lips curve up in a smile. “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

  “I can cancel all my other interviews.”

  My jaw drops, but I quickly close it and gulp, afraid to say something stupid.

  “You want the job, right?”

  “Yes. I do; I’ve just never waitressed at a bar before.”

  “I know you, Polly. I know you’re
a hard worker, and you’re friendly but not too friendly where you don’t take care of your tables. Rayne always talks about how lucky they are to have such a responsible and trustworthy employee. It’s perfect.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his water. “I just had to fire an employee who had been pocketing money for like, three months before I caught on.”

  “Oh no, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all good. I’m more pissed than anything.”

  Being taken advantage of really does suck. Unfortunately, I know from personal experience. “I understand that.”

  “Anyway.” He shakes his head. “Let me tell you about the job, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I need a cocktail waitress for my VIP section. It’s only open Friday and Saturday nights, but if you’d like to pick up more shifts, I can arrange that. It’d be nice to have someone else who can fill in at the bar when one of the guys is sick or on vacation.”

  “Oh, umm, I’ve never bartended before, either. I don’t know if I’d be any good.”

  He waves me off. “You’d be fine. But that’s down the road. I don’t even know if having just you in the VIP will be enough. I may have to hire someone else, too. But I’m sure you can handle it on your own at least for a little while until we figure it out.”

  I laugh at his confidence in me.

  “So when do you want to start? I don’t need references since—shit. Are you quitting the diner? Rayne will kill me if I steal you.”

  “No! I’m not quitting. I just need some more hours than what she can offer is all.” The thought to quit crossed my mind once, but then I quickly shut it down. I really like it there. It’s such a good atmosphere and easy work; I feel like I’m hanging out with friends most of the time. It’s my happy place. Plus, I never know who will come in, and since a lot of business people dine there, I may meet someone beneficial.

  “Okay, good. I’d need you to come in around six or seven then stay until close. We usually don’t get out of here until about three. If that’s too much, I—”

  “It’s fine. I can do it.” That’s a lot of tip money, so I’d never turn it down.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “Perfect. Do you want to start tomorrow?”

  My eyes widen, and I stutter, not expecting to get the job that fast. Or at all, honestly.

  “You don’t have to,” he quickly adds.

  “No, I will. I want to. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Great. Here.” He hands me a stack of papers. “Fill these out and bring them back with you tomorrow.”

  I take the papers and stand then follow him to the door. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Is there a dress code?”

  “No. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. The only thing I ask is that you don’t dress too provocatively.”

  I do a quick mental inventory of my outfits, mainly jeans and t-shirts but also some cute skirts, and nod. I’ll be able to make it work. “Okay. See you tomorrow. And thanks, Brad.”

  He pushes the door open for me, the brightness making us both squint. “See ya tomorrow.”

  I turn my head to glance at him over my shoulder. “Yes, definitely. Thank you.”

  “Polly!” He calls my name, but between that and the sunlight blinding me, I don’t see it. I don’t see him. I crash into a man; although a tree trunk seems more appropriate to describe what this guy is. Hard, wide, tall.

  “Whoa.” His large hands wrap around my arms to prevent me from falling, which is proven more difficult as the deep timbre of his voice makes my knees weak.

  I look up past his muscular chest—ready to burst under a tight gray t-shirt—and into a set of eyes that take my breath away. They’re beautiful, and from this angle, I can’t tell if they’re green or brown, or maybe amber, like honey. As they move over my face, an aura of sedation surrounds me. Calm. Warm. Safe.

  His chest rises and falls against mine, and his arms flex around me. The security I feel at this moment weigh my lids down, and I soak up every single second of it as the sun warms me.

  “Are you okay, Polly?” Brad’s words are muffled in my head, but when he raises his voice, it snaps me out of my embarrassing and inappropriate response. The man’s throat rumbles, and those strong arms slowly lower as he steps back.

  I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Brad nods at the man, whose fingers slide across my lower back as he walks away and into the bar. How is a single touch so damn powerful? I can’t help but stare at him, his thick thighs, and confident stride. Damn. I bite my lip as he disappears inside the building.

  What was that? Definitely something… most definitely someone I’ve never experienced before. I don’t react to men that way. I never have. I’m not sure what to make of it, but Brad’s chuckle forces me to focus on the now and not the man. “Sorry.” I forgot Brad was here, and now I’m even more embarrassed he saw me daydreaming.

  “It’s all good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Polly.”

  I duck my head and scurry to my car. He waits until I get in and drive away before he begins taking steps backward toward the bar. I wave as I pass him and smile the whole way back to my apartment. Things are finally looking up for me.

  Chapter 3

  Erik

  “We’re only closed on Mondays. I get it if you don’t want to do six nights, but honestly, bud, I could use the manpower.”

  I sit across from Brad, an old friend and the owner of Complexity, and wait for him to finish. “You havin’ trouble?”

  He sighs and tosses back the rest of his tumbler of whiskey. I can smell it from where I am. Haven’t had any in a while, but I can still smell its delicious aroma. “When I opened this place years ago, it was strictly a gay bar. But as time went on, girls started to realize they could come here, have a good time, and dance without being groped by drunk assholes. So I expanded by fifty percent when the coffee shop next door closed. But then, as you can imagine, those assholes started filtering through to find the girls, and now it gets so crowded I have a fuckin’ line at the door.”

  “You havin’ problems with these assholes hurtin’ girls?” Makes my blood boil just thinking about some prick taking advantage of a woman. I might sleep with ’em, but I’d never, ever fuckin’ hurt one. And knowing it’d be my job to protect them from drunk pricks makes me feel an urgency I haven’t experienced in a long time. To protect Polly, the waitress Brad said he just hired.

  The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever fuckin’ seen in my life. When she gained her bearings and gave me her attention, I saw more than I’d have liked to. Pain and regret swirled around in her ocean blue eyes like a cyclone… It’s what looks back at me every time I look in the mirror. I wonder if her eyes would get darker or lighter when I made her come. Dammit. I’m not going there right now. With anybody. No matter how fuckin’ beautiful she is. No matter how good she smelled, like vanilla and sugar. Bet she’d taste like it too. Fuck.

  “Not yet. But I know it’s coming. I’ve hired bouncers, but I need something else. I need a whole goddamned security team.”

  “And you want me to oversee that?”

  He nods. “Don’t forget that I know who you are, man.”

  I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. “And who, exactly, am I?”

  “You’re like your dad, Erik.”

  At the mention of my father, I hang my head.

  “He went from boxer to bodyguard and ran one of the most successful protection firms in California. You can’t tell me you didn’t learn from him.”

  At least he hasn’t dug deep enough to know that I now own Ace Protection Firm, or The Firm as we like to call it. “He died when I was fourteen. What the fuck does he have to do with me?”

  “You don’t think your reputation precedes you?”

  My anger begins to rise. “What fucking reputation?”

  “Erik, come on, man. You’re serious?”

  This isn’t going to work. I came here to get away from the other life I li
ve in Cali. Don’t really want to bring that here; plus, I don’t know how I could manage both. “Listen, Brad. We were on the same wrestling team in high school—”

  “Which you won and broke state and even national records for.”

  He’s got no clue, but it’s funny that he’s hung up on something that happened so long ago. “In fuckin’ high school, Brad.”

  “You didn’t stop fighting after high school, Erik.”

  He’s right. I didn’t. I tried to distract myself with boxing but eventually gave up on that. “I may have fought, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “Stop trying to deny it. Jesus. Either you want the job, or you don’t.” His irritation aggravates me. “I need someone, and if you can’t do it, then I’m back to square one.”

  “I didn’t ask for it. You called me, remember?” My lip twitches. “But fine, I’ll take the damn job.” Better to be drowning in work than booze. Plus, even though I’m not very close with Brad, we’ve hung out a couple of times in the past years, and it’s always been really chill.

  He heaves out a sign of relief. “For real?”

  “Yeah. I need to do something to pass the time.” To fill the void I’ve created.

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  I shake my head. More like a life taker. “I’m not.” I stand, and he follows. “Give me a tour and let me see what you have for security now.”

  “You’re not going to be impressed.”

  “I’ll deal.”

  As we walk through the bar, I take in the space. Trendy, dark, cramped. “What’s this?” I point at the small section behind a rope with several tables and some couches that sit on a raised platform.

  “VIP.”

  “What the fuck do you need VIP in a gay bar for?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Isn’t that what Kenny’s for?” I deadpan, referring to the guy he’s dating.

  The hard features, of the only person I know who is larger than I am, soften for a moment. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “But it’s not really a gay bar anymore, remember?”