Damaged Heart (A San Diegan Novel Book 3)

by S. M. Soto

  The unmistakable voice has me rolling my eyes, and arching my back even more, giving the person a better view of my ass. I turn around with the cloth in hand, impatience written all over my face.

  “And aren’t you just a sore sight,” I reply dryly. Alex tosses his head back and laughs, leaning his wide form against the beam of the booth. He’s dressed casually in a pair of cargo shorts and a Bar and Grille T-shirt. I can’t help the way my eyes linger on his broad chest much longer than they should.

  “Is there a reason you’re here, bothering me?”

  “I’m here to collect, babe. I want that date,” he says in a smug tone that has me rolling my eyes in irritation.

  “No thanks. When you said you would get me a job, I didn’t realize I’d be cleaning shit stains and dumpster diving for all of three weeks.”

  Alex stifles a chuckle, and cocks his head to the side. “Huh. Didn’t peg you as one of those prissy girls who’s afraid of hard work. I guess I was wrong about you.”

  His tone irks me, prompting me to narrow my eyes. Tossing the damp cloth on the table, I cross my arms over my chest and shoot him a glare.

  “I never said I was afraid of hard work, shit-brick. Why don’t you go somewhere else? The longer I have to look at your fucking face, the harder it becomes to restrain myself from shoving my foot right up your ass.”

  As if he didn’t hear a word I just said, a wide grin spreads across Alex’s face that undoubtedly does incredible things to my body.

  “You play to bust balls, firecracker,” he says. Out of thin air, he snaps an apron in his hands and ties it around his waist. My eyes drop to the logo and I have to stifle a groan. In big, bold letters, it reads “CJ’s Bar and Grille”.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  “Afraid not, babe,” Alex says with a playful wink. “Since we’ll be co-workers now, I plan to wear you down ’til you agree to that date.”

  I scoff. “Not likely.”

  “Do everyone a favor and just say yes, sweetheart. Alex is nothing if not persistent,” Golden Torso says in passing, adding his two cents in the conversation.

  Since working here, I’ve learned Golden Torso is actually the boss’s son, CJ Jr.—who just so happens to be best friends with Alex. As I look at each of them, I realize they’re both wearing those stupid fucking aprons.

  Fucking perfect. I get to deal with these two idiots every day. It just keeps getting better. Not.

  “You’re working here now, seriously? And you, too? I can’t fucking believe this,” I grumble.

  “Believe it, babe. You and me, we’re happening,” Alex gives me a cheeky grin as he strides away with an extra pep in his step. I stare after his retreating form with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, unable to voice a comeback.

  Growling in irritation, I shake the memory out of my head, and throw open the door to my apartment. I get a whiff of popcorn, and know immediately my best friend is up and no doubt watching some stupid rom-com or one of those dramatic Lifetime movies. Sometimes I don’t know how we’re even friends. We are complete opposites, yet we complement one another in ways I can’t even begin to explain. She’s the sister I never had, and no matter what’s happening in our lives, she always finds a way to be there for me.

  ***

  “Sam!”

  CJ yells from someplace beyond the bar. I internally roll my eyes, doing my best to ignore him. Four years I’ve known the guy and he still won’t have sex with me. It’s fucking infuriating. I get that he’s my boss now, and he’s Alex’s best friend, but c’mon, the guy is a walking wet dream.

  Can you blame me for wanting to add him to my list of conquests?

  “Sam!” He yells again, much closer this time. “I know you can hear me, Samantha. I can practically see your eyes rolling.”

  This time I do roll my eyes as I look up at him. “What do you need, sir?”

  His lips thin into a grim line. “We have a new girl that just started. I need you to show her around for the rest of your shift. She’ll shadow you.”

  “No.”

  “Sam, this isn’t a request. Alex will take over the bar, and I need you to show her around. You’re the only female on staff right now.”

  “Well, whose effing fault is that?”

  “Just fucking do your job. That’s what I’m paying you for,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Fine. Where the hell is she, then? I don’t have all day.”

  Pointing toward the kitchen, I follow CJ’s direction and spot the new trainee.

  “Oh, c’mon. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Where the hell did you find her, at the library? A church convent?”

  The girl is cute, from what I can tell. She has dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she even has striking features. That’s not my issue, though. The problem is her attire. The girl looks like she was raised in a library. So prim and proper, it makes me want to gouge my eyes out. I dart my gaze down, honing in on her T-shirt, and this time, I really do groan. Along with a big, red heart, her shirt reads Finn Hudson, Forever.

  Fuck me.

  “She’s a freshman at San Diego State. She’s just looking for a part-time job to help with expenses.”

  “Fucking A, man, look at her.”

  “She’s a nice girl, and we need more nice around here.”

  I turn to him placing my hands over my chest, feigning hurt. “I’m a nice girl.”

  “You and I both know that’s not true. Now go.”

  I turn back toward him with a glare, and his lip twitches. Fucker.

  He did this on purpose.

  “I want a raise.”

  CJ throws his head back and laughs. “Not gonna happen. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll throw in Alex as a raise.”

  “Fuck off,” I grumble as I head toward Miss. Prim-and-Proper.

  I study the new girl as I get closer. She’s obviously nervous around others. If the way she’s fidgeting is any indication, I’d think she has ants in her pants.

  “I’m Sam. I normally work the bar, but I’ve been given the wonderful task of babysitting you today,” I say by way of greeting.

  “Oh, uh, sorry? I’m Natalia.”

  “Okay, whatever. Let’s go over the basics.” I raise my hand, ready to tick them off. “One, act like you want to be here. Two, don’t be an asshole to the customers. Three, don’t fuck up. If you can manage all those, you should be fine. And finally, please explain what the fuck is up with your shirt.”

  Natalia’s brown eyes drop down to said shirt and her face lights up. “Don’t you watch Glee? I love Finn Hudson. It’s just not the same without Cory in the show anymore.”

  I inhale a calming breath and raise my hand. “Please don’t tell my you’re referring to the show with all the fucking horrid nonstop singing.” She opens her mouth, ready to defend her choice in TV and I cut her off. “Never mind, don’t even answer that,” I blow out a gruff breath. “Two new things: one, don’t ever talk about Glee again. And two, don’t ever wear that shirt again.”

  Natalia’s face falls the slightest bit, but I ignore it. There’s no way I can be cordial with this chick if she starts breaking out into song every five seconds while we’re working. Not fucking happening.

  I look over my shoulder toward CJ, where he’s watching my interaction with Natalia. I stifle a laugh. He probably thinks I’m giving her professional and detailed information. Little does he know that’s the exact opposite of what I’m doing.

  I turn back to Natalia, the librarian, and describe her role as best as I can. I explain that she’s to take customers’ orders, and relay them back to the cooks in the kitchen. Once orders are ready, she’s to deliver the meals no more than twelve to fifteen minutes after they were ordered.

  “The bigger the smile, the bigger the tip. I can’t stress this enough.”

  She nods her head in a determined motion. “Yes. Yes. Okay. I got it.”

  “I don’t have much else advice for you. I fucking su
ck at waitressing, that’s why I tend the bar.”

  “I waitressed in high school at Chili’s, so I have a bit of experience.”

  “Well look at you. Chili’s. How fancy.”

  Her brows pull down as she’s about to say something in retort, but I quickly cut her off.

  “Just make sure you pay attention and do everything right. Got it, Stephanie King? I have a job to get to after this, and I really don’t want to hear my boss’ shit because I’m late.”

  “I will I promise. And I said my name was Natalia,” she says, correcting me, and I have to stifle my laugh.

  Poor thing. She’ll never survive here with my humor. “I know. I switched out Stephen for Stephanie because you’re a girl. Get it? Stephen King?”

  Her lips turn up into a small smile. “I guess I should’ve put that one together. Where else do you work, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I work at Cheetah’s.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a strip club, but I personally like to call it a whorehouse. With all the fucking that happens backstage, you would think it is.”

  I silently wait for her reaction, the one I always get from people when they find out I’m a stripper.

  Oh my, you’re a stripper?

  Do you have to get fully nude?

  What do you do when the guys try to touch you?

  How can you live like that?

  And my answer always is: when you have no fucking money and you’re trying to make ends meet, you’re willing to do anything.

  “That’s nice,” she says as she watches me juggle with an armful of plates back to the kitchen. “Do you ever participate in the backroom activity, or is it just stage dancing for you?” She asks with innocent doe eyes, completely stopping me in my tracks.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I just about shout incredulously. This girl is not what I expected at all. Who the fuck asks stuff like that? Who the fuck is that calm when they’re near a stripper, anyway? And who the fuck willingly wears a Glee shirt? This girl has got some issues.

  “I was kidding, Samantha. It just seemed like you were trying to make me uncomfortable, so I was trying to play along.”

  I take a step back and really take a good look at her. Well, I’ll be damned. A slow smile spreads across my face.

  “I think we’re going to get along just fine, paperback.”

  Natalia smiles back at me, “I think so too, Samantha.”

  ***

  I let a smile grace my lips as I shake the memory away. God, I can’t believe that was nearly five years ago. Time really does fly when you’re having fun.

  Tossing my purse on the table that holds our mail and keys, I skip into the living room and throw myself beside Natalia on the couch.

  “How did your night go?”

  I shrug my shoulders and pop a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “Good I guess. Ran into Alex.”

  Natalia raises a curious brow. “You ran into him?”

  “Yeah. He was with some skank at the bar.”

  “Do I sense a bit of jealousy?”

  I roll my eyes, and groan. “Oh, god. Not you, too.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Ignoring her meddling and comments, I try to change the subject. “Whatcha watching?”

  “Me Before You.”

  “Huh?” I turn to her with my brows furrowed. Me Before You? What kind of fucking movie title is that?

  “It’s called Me Before You. It was a book, but they made it into a movie. I haven’t had a chance to read the book yet, but so far, it’s really good. I’ve already cried a bit.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know, I can see that. Why are you crying anyway? It doesn’t seem like such a sad movie? And what the fuck is that girl wearing? She looks like Pippi Longstocking on crack.”

  “I’ll give the synopsis. See those two? They’re both falling in love with each other, but she just found out he wants to die.”

  “Why is he in a wheelchair?”

  “Motorcycle accident. That’s why he wants to die. He doesn’t want to live that way anymore.”

  “That’s really fucking stupid. If I was her, I would tell the asshole to drop dead already. He obviously doesn’t love her enough not to break her heart. Men can be such assholes, I keep telling you.”

  Natalia turns to me with narrowed eyes, and a piece of popcorn hanging from her lip. “Well, obviously the book was better. If all you’re going to do is talk and ruin the movie, get out.”

  Tossing my head back, I laugh and pat Natalia on her yoga-clad thigh. “Don’t have to tell me twice. By the way, you have some popcorn on your face.”

  She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, cleaning it off. I dip my hand in the popcorn bowl.

  “Here, let me get it for you.” I toss a handful of popcorn at her, and laugh when she growls in anger.

  “Samantha Faye!”

  Hopping up from my position on the couch, I raise my hands in surrender. “That was a total accident.”

  “Get out!” She growls, throwing her own handful of popcorn at me in the process. I dodge the buttery snack, hurrying down the hall for a shower before I call it a night.

  After a much-needed shower, I climb into bed thinking about Alex, just like I usually do. I’ll never admit that to anyone, though. He was just supposed to be a friend, and a fuck buddy, but somehow along the way, things have gotten complicated.

  We’ve known each other for nearly nine years, yet every time we have sex, it’s like our first time together—but only better. It’s so fucking infuriating, being attracted to someone you wish you didn’t care about. Burrowing under the covers, I push all thoughts of men out of my mind and try to drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  April 1997

  Loud noises from Momma’s bedroom echo around my walls, just like they always do. Something bangs against the wall repeatedly, in a synchronized rhythm. Burrowing under the covers, I try to block out the guttural shout, and Momma’s yells. When the noise eventually stops, I finally start to drift off to sleep. On the nights Momma feeds me, it’s always easier to fall asleep, because my tummy doesn’t hurt all night.

  On the cusp of sleep, the creaking of floorboards and the twisting of my doorknob has me jerking awake. My body tenses, and I curl my knees into my chest. Each thud of footsteps has my body jolting in fear. Momma says no one’s supposed to come into my room. The hard bed beneath me dips, and I know immediately: it’s not my momma.

  “I know you’re still awake, pretty-girl.”

  The voice sends a jolt of terror through my body. Why is he in here? He’s supposed to be with Momma. Holding my breath, I slowly turn around under the covers, meeting the man’s dark stare. His name is Cyrus, or at least that’s what Momma calls him. Whenever he comes here, he makes Momma really happy. She said he brings her the gifts that make her feel happy. The strange noises from Momma’s room always happen when he’s here too.

  He scares me.

  “W-where’s my momma?”

  Cyrus runs his heavy hand over my hair and caresses it, just like Momma used to.

  “Your momma is sleeping. She was trying to make me happy, but she couldn’t. Do you want to try to make me happy, pretty-girl?”

  His hand continues rubbing my hair as I stare up at him. I wish Momma was awake. She would know what to do.

  “How do I make you happy like Momma?”

  Cyrus smiles, and runs his finger over my lips. “I’ll show you, pretty-girl.”

  When his hand glides down my arm, below the covers and into the waistband of my pajama bottoms, my heart races, and my stomach churns painfully.

  “That’s it, pretty-girl. Make me happy again.”

  The raspy voice jolts me awake, out of the horrors of my childhood nightmare. Even though it’s just a dream—a sick memory—I can still hear his voice as clear as day. I can still feel his touch, and smell his scent around me. The fear I felt as a child wraps around me like a suffocati
ng blanket, cloaking me in dread. Suddenly, I scoot against the headboard and I try to catch my breath. Sweat coats my body, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Roughly, I scrub my hands over my sweat-slicked face trying to rid myself of the images from my dream.

  Fuck.

  I don’t usually dream about what happened to me as a child, but sometimes, those awful memories decide to replay themselves when I least expect them.

  Climbing out of bed, I pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. It’s well past three in the morning and as I pass Natalia’s room, I can faintly hear her giggling and talking in hushed tones—no doubt to the quarterback.

  Even though she denies it, Natalia is falling for Luke Caldwell, the star quarterback at SDSU. He’s the exception to her rule—the guy that will finally make her fall in love. Never have I seen my best friend act the way she does around him, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Seeing her happy makes me happy. I just wish she would stop trying to fight it. Sometimes, you have to let cards fall where they may. It’s cliché and even a bit hypocritical of me to say but it’s the truth. Natalia’s smarter than me. She of all people should know better, especially when love is staring her right in the face.

  Digging through our cupboards in our small kitchen, I find my hidden gems, saved specifically for nights like these. I warm up a glass of milk, and dig into the now-stale box of Oreo cookies. The processed chemicals and warm milk help calm the rampant anxiety flowing through my body after that dream. I’m usually careful with what I eat, but I always make an exception for Oreo cookies. After all, it is milk’s best friend.

  Settling in the kitchen chair, I finish off the row of cookies, contemplating my past, and my not-so-bright future.

  Some might say the way I grew up has shaped me into the wild woman I am today, and they would be right. I’ll be the first to say I had a fucked-up childhood. From what I can remember, my mother was a crack whore, and I mean that in the most literal sense—she really did whore herself out for crack, and any other drug.

  While she was riding her highs, I was left hungry without the parental support any young child should have. My time with my mother didn’t last very long. By the time I was eight, I was put into the foster care system and my mother never even gave a shit. She didn’t try to clean up her act so she could be the mother she was supposed to be. Not once did she fight for me. Oh no, she let that be the job of the families I was passed along to. She never cared about me, which made it a hell of a lot easier to forget about her. Or at the very least, that’s what I’ve convinced myself.