by Emelia Blair
She gives me an assessing look before her shoulders relax. “I see. And your mother—”
“She died thirteen years ago,” I say my tone a little hollow now.
“I’m sorry.” Tracy’s voice is soft.
I look up surprised. “You don’t have to be. It was a long time ago.”
“Not for you,” she says calmly.
It surprises me how she just saw right through me with just a few words and I turn my gaze away suddenly feeling more exposed.
“Max is a good kid,” she says, looking to the side as she sips her coffee, clearly giving me the space I need to compose myself. “Thankfully, he doesn’t take after his father.”
I decide to change the topic to a lighter one. “So, with you here all night and Kendall at work all day, how do you two manage around Max’s schedule?”
“He’s five. What schedule?” Tracy grins. Her whole face lights up when she smiles.
I find myself staring at her. When describing a woman, I usually use adjectives like cute, sexy, or hot. But the only word that comes to mind when I look at this woman is ‘beautiful.’ “You’re very pretty,” I blurt out.
Tracy blinks as a soft blush covers her face. “Thank you.”
When she doesn’t say anything further, I calm myself down. She’s not for you, I hiss to myself. “Kendall told me that you’re a very good cook.” I say, out of nowhere, looking for a way to disperse the sudden awkwardness between us.
Tracy looks pleasantly surprised. “She did?”
“Oh, yeah. She brags about it all the time. She said that once you two move into the new place, she plans to have you cook all the time.” I have no qualms about throwing my new friend under the bus. Tracy scowls at this. “All the time?”
I nod eagerly.
However, just before Tracy can get out a few choice words, the bell dings at the kitchen window, indicating the food is ready. A woman’s head pops up in the window. “Another hour and I’m taking over the front.”
“Gotcha.” Tracy nods to her.
The woman glances over to where I’m sitting and wolf-whistles. “Got yourself a nice beau there, Tracy.”
Tracy laughs at the comment.
When she doesn’t seem very fazed by it, I have to wonder how many men express an interest in her on a regular basis. She does seem to be the kind of woman who attracts a lot of attention from the opposite sex but she seems to be able to handle it just fine like she showed me when we first met.
Tracy puts the two skillets in front of me.
I push one towards her. “It’s for you,” I tell her, and then go on to lie through my teeth, “I hate eating alone.”
She looks surprised.
I don’t miss the hungry look in Tracy’s eyes before she pastes a smile on her lips and shakes her head. “I can’t afford thi—”
“It’s on me. After all, we're going to be neighbors soon, and hopefully, friends as well.”
When she stares at me, baffled, I smile, “The apartment you’re moving into is right next to mine. Consider this a ‘welcome to the building’ meal.” I wink at her.
She gives a helpless little laugh and picks up a fork. “Well, if you say so. Far be it from me, that I refuse free food.”
She’s refreshingly honest in her interactions and I like it. She’s so different from all the women I’ve interacted with. But that may be because I’m not hitting on her or at least trying my best not to think how she would look like while splayed in my bed as I take her hard and fast, my hands tracing those voluptuous curves.
She digs in.
I find myself watching as she eats, she’s a woman with a good appetite and fuck, if that isn’t attractive. But I have to tear my eyes away and focus on my own meal.
As I make light conversation, steering us towards safe topics, I tell myself I should keep a distance from Tracy. She makes me feel strange, a little off balance, and I don’t want to do something I regret.
No. She’s Kendall’s friend and Caleb’s woman is going to be around for a very long time, so I can’t fuck this up.
I won’t be coming here again!
Five days later, I’m standing outside the diner again in the middle of the day and cursing myself for it.
Unlike the other night, the diner is bustling with activity and I’m not surprised, considering the quality of the food here. I find myself a corner seat at the counter, knowing through Kendall of course, that Tracy has been working the afternoon shift, covering for someone.
And sure enough, I see her walking out from the kitchen, four dishes in her hands as she balances them all without breaking a sweat.
Kendall has been worried how Tracy had done the night shift, then only came home for two hours of sleep before rushing back to work and she intended to work the night shift as well.
Tracy’s eyes are glittering and she’s moving fast as she handles order after order.
But I don’t mistake that for energy.
She looks jittery, overtired and exhausted, but insistently pushing herself.
I feel a surge of anger that I have no right to feel.
She’s not my woman.
Why should I care if she works herself to the ground?
But as I see her hands shake while she pours a customer a cup of coffee, my chest tightens.
She needs a break!
The waitress who serves me is casually chewing gum and moving about, deliberately slow, and my lips press together in a thin line.
I take the burger and fries, casually asking when Tracy will have her next break.
The woman, Sheena, gives me an annoyed look before glancing towards where Tracy is taking an order. “Oh, honey. What do you want with her? Besides, Paul won’t like it if you pay too much attention to her.”
“Paul?” I ask, my heart sinking at this new revelation.
Sheena shrugs.
Irritated, I take out my wallet and press down a five dollar bill on the table. “Tell me about Paul.”
Sheena smiles at me and stuffs the bill into her bra. “He’s the manager here. He’s taken a real shine to Tracy. Why do you think he hired her?” Sheena cups her breasts in a vulgar movement to indicate what exactly garnered Paul the manager’s attention.
I hiss out, not knowing who is pissing me off more, this woman who seems to have a grudge against Tracy or this Paul guy, who’s eyeing Tracy like she’s a piece of meat.
Sheena goes on to explain, “He’s been asking her out for months and she always turns him down but then she does that to everybody. A few days ago this man came in and they were talking and the girl on duty saw them and Tracy told her that she found this guy cute and word got back to Paul and he got pissed.” Sheena falls silent.
I blink. “And then?” I’m trying to control my own reaction on hearing that Tracy found someone cute.
Sheena coughs discreetly and raises a brow.
I scowl and hand her another five dollar bill.
She continues, cheerfully, “So, anyways, Paul called her in and yelled at her, calling her a two bit whore and saying that he wasn’t paying her to do fucking strip teases for the customers. Word is that Tracy cried in the bathroom but I call bullshit on that. That woman has ice in her veins. She never batted an eye. So, now she’s being forced to work extra shifts as punishment. I mean Paul says that we need extra hands but he keeps scheduling her on. This is her third day.” Sheena shrugs.
I clench my fists under the table at what I’m hearing.
Sheena sneers. “I told her to just sleep with him and just be done with it, but she thinks she’s better than us because she’s got some fucking moral high ground.”
“So, she’s been taking shifts nonstop?” I try to control my desire to shake the woman in front of me until her teeth rattle in her head, as she looks amused by Tracy’s predicament.
“Nah, hon. She’s got the early morning shift off. But she has to work the late morning and the afternoon and the night shift. I overheard Paul telling her that he’s g
oing to make sure she doesn’t see that bastard son of hers.” Sheena seems to be very forthcoming with information.
From the sweet smell emitting from her mouth, I have a good idea why, so I tighten the leash on my temper and ask, “So, why is she still working here? Surely she can—”
Sheena laughs at my outraged expression. “Where else would she get this wage? Got to support herself, don’t she? How’s that kid of hers gonna eat?”
I’ve never wanted to strangle a woman like I do this one, who is looking down on Tracy and how she’s being exploited. I grind my teeth and am about to say something.
Then Sheena scoffs, “Paul tried to look through the security cameras to see who this cute guy is but he forgot that he turns off the cameras at night.”
At night?
A few days ago?
Surely, I’m not the reason Tracy’s being forced to endure all this?
It frustrates me that while I barely know the woman, I can’t help her. I know the look in her eyes. She has pride and she won’t accept anybody’s assistance.
“When does she get off?” I grit through my teeth.
Sheena eyes me.
I can see clearly that she’s up to something.
She leans forward, showcasing her cleavage and batting her eyes. “You look like you’re a well off guy. I’m telling you, that slut is a waste of your time. Why don’t you and I get together during my break? I can show a stud like you a good time.” Her hand is resting on my forearm.
I yank it back and it makes contact with something. I hear a gasp and whirl around just in time to see Tracy falling backwards. I ignore the tray in her hands that’s falling to the ground and grab her.
Her eyes are bewildered as she stares at me. “Duke?”
I want to smile at her or greet her but all I can think of is how she’s been so thoroughly humiliated because of me and how she’s being tortured for a simple interaction. My voice is rough as I ask, “When does your shift end?”
There must be something in my voice that has her blinking at me. “In twenty minutes? Why? Is Kendall all right?”
Her concern is immediately going to her friend who has a powerful protector watching over her from the shadows. But who’s watching over Tracy?
Does this woman ever think of herself first?
It irritates me and my displeasure must be showing on my face.
Her expression tightens as she stares at me. “What?”
“Kendall is fine. She sent me to make sure you ate something and that you rested.” I’m lying but it’s the only way I can get her to listen to me.
A strange expression crosses over Tracy’s face and she straightens up. “I see.”
“I’ll wait for you here,” I tell her.
She studies me closely.
I can see that her brain is working fast.
Finally, she nods, briefly. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Kendall?” Sheena asks from behind me, sounding disappointed. “You’re her roommate's boyfriend?”
I don’t correct her, hoping this rumor reaches ‘Paul’. I might not be able to stand up for Tracy, publicly because I know how important this job must be to her and I’m not a hasty man even if my blood is boiling. But there are other ways to get a message across to this bastard which doesn’t have to directly involve Tracy. If Paul perceives me as non-threatening for the time being, it’ll be easier on Tracy.
I still remember how difficult it was for my mother to get jobs and how she would struggle to keep one, no matter how bad, her employers were. If it put food on our table and kept a roof over our head, she did the job anyway. I’m not going to sabotage Tracy’s job without being able to offer her a backup.
I sit back down and try to cool my overheated heels.
I had just come here with the intention of – well, I don’t know what my intention was, maybe to see if Tracy was okay? Why I care, I have no idea. But seeing her today, a surge of protectiveness is rising within me and it has no outlet. All I see is this strong woman, struggling silently, hiding her pain, and swallowing her pride repeatedly. And I want to protect her although I barely know her.
So, I wait, bewildered at myself and when Tracy reappears as soon as her shift ends, I escort her out into the parking lot.
“You’re a lot more trusting of me than I would have thought,” I find myself saying.
She glances at me with a weary smile. “Kendall trusts you. And I trust Kendall’s judgement.”
I lead her to the car and open the back door for her.
“What?” She looks at me, surprised. “Are we going somewhere?”
I hand her the food I had gotten for her. “No. You’re going to have a meal with no one bothering you, and then you’re going to take a nap without anyone disturbing you.”
She stares at me with a sheen of tears in her eyes as she sniffles.
I grow alarmed at her actions. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. You’re a very kind man, Duke.”
I feel uncomfortable now. “I’m just doing what Kendall told me to.”
She doesn’t respond to this.
I take out the blanket from the back and put it next to her, cranking up the air conditioner. “I’ll wake you when your next shift begins. Eat and get some sleep.”
She stares at me for a few long seconds as if she’s unused to such kindness, then she swallows and nods her head.
I close the door and lean against it, guarding the weary woman inside.
I’m in so much trouble.
3
“Her roommate?” Caleb asks as he watches me over the pizza I’m chewing.
As usual, he’s forgotten dinner, so I ordered pizza for the both of us for dinner.
He’s in more relaxed attire as he lounges on his sofa, some documents in his lap as he polishes off his third slice.
“Kendall hasn’t said anything?” I probe.
Caleb shakes his head. “She is much more likely to come to you than me. She’s still learning to trust me. You’re interested in Tracy then?”
“Not interested,” I grumble. “Just watching out for her. The woman needs someone to take care of her. She barely eats as it is. From what I know, they’re only allowed free coffee refills at that diner. They have to pay for their own food and apparently, Max needs new sneakers.”
“So, get the boy a pair of sneakers,” Caleb comments, studying me intently. “I don’t see your dilemma here.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” I growl.
My friend raises his brow at my outburst. “Is there something else bothering you?” he asks coolly. “It’s very unlike you to get this worked up over a woman.”
I don’t know what to tell him as I glare at the television screen before finally replying, “Tracy doesn’t seem to be the type of woman who’ll let a man buy her son a pair of sneakers.”
Caleb is silent for a long time and then he finally says, lowering his eyes to the document he’s studying, “I always find it convenient to find a way to navigate around the problem rather than bulldoze my way through it.” He pauses and then adds, “But then that’s just me.”
“Does it cause you physical pain to give an answer that isn’t ambiguous?” I scowl at him.
Caleb turns over the sheet, without looking up. “Yes.”
Asshole.
I stew over his words and then go for a walk to the floor below, where Kendall and Tracy will be moving into in another two weeks. Since the two women will be moving in soon, Caleb has been overseeing the furnishing. I know he’d chosen Kendall’s furniture by himself.
I wander into what will be Tracy’s bedroom and I look at the empty room. The woman works her butt off. She deserves a nice large bed with a mattress that hugs her when she sleeps in and an oversized armchair she can curl up in when she wants to read a book or a magazine.
My phone is in my hand before I know it, and I’m already browsing furniture from an online store. Then, l pause… Max should get one of thos
e racecar beds. The kid would love it. Maybe some superhero themed furniture too. He’s five. He’d probably dig that shit.
I shove my hands into my pockets.
There’s nothing weird about paying a visit to the place Caleb used to furnish our apartments, right? The better the quality, the more durable the furniture.
I’m just looking out for Kendall’s friend.
As I walk away, I ignore the budding excitement within me.
Paul Orbison is a greasy looking man with a smug glint in his eyes. He has the beginnings of a beer belly and he eyes his female staff with greed in his eyes.
Today, he’s at the diner, watching me.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve been coming here for the past four days and I’ve managed to strike up a friendship with Tracy. Now she smiles every time she sees me which is a nice feeling.
Since she hadn’t called me out for lying to her about Kendall asking me to continuously check in on her, I have to guess she just hasn’t had the opportunity to say anything to her friend.
However, word was bound to reach the manager about who’s been lusting after Tracy.
I stare back at him, coolly and push up my sleeve to reveal my prison tattoos.
This makes his smug smile slip a little.
Now, I’m a large guy thanks to years of bulking up in the prison yard and then continuing my exercise regime, once I was out. It doesn’t help that I am tall as well with a face that only few women would love. I’m not ugly, but a little brutish looking. I can find someone to sleep with easily, as women look at me and think rough wild sex. But aside from Mara, the woman who’d destroyed my world so thoroughly, I have never been in a relationship. A part of me knows some of it is attributed to my general mistrust of women and another part of me acknowledges that my face and huge form doesn’t exactly scream husband material.
I see a glimpse of Tracy in the kitchen window and sigh, a gloomy thought occurring to me. Does Tracy look at me and think I belong in some gang?
I’ve been told this on occasion.
