The Unlucky Ones, page 9
“I know.” I blinked back the emotions. To watch someone you love die a slow, horrific death, stripping them until they were broken, was worse than anything I could fathom. Losing my dad had been terrible, but it was fast. He didn’t suffer.
Bethany squeezed my shoulder, then took off toward my mother’s room.
I wiped at the yogurt on my face, straightening my shoulders, then I moved outside to where my sister waited on the steps.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Amelia spurted the moment I stepped out. “I can’t keep seeing her like this. And I won’t let Mia remember her that way.” She motioned to where Mia played on the grass.
“Mel…”
“No, Dev. You may be fine seeing our mother fade away into nothing, but I can’t.” She stabbed at her chest. “I don’t have the strength to watch Mom slowly die. Not after Daddy. I won’t do this to myself anymore.”
Frustration at our situation, at my sister, flamed up my spine, I rolled my hands into fists. “What other choice do we have?” I screamed back at her. “Just because you don’t like it, Amelia, doesn’t make the problem go away.”
Amelia bit down on her lip, anger reddening her skin. “Get off your high horse, Devon. You’re not the only one going through this.”
A snort huffed from my nose. My patience reached its limit.
“Yeah, but I’m the one handling it. Taking care of everything,” I gritted through my teeth. “Have you ever once paid a bill or watched Mom for more than an afternoon or gotten the medication she needed? You couldn’t even be bothered to come with us when she was diagnosed. Couldn’t even answer your phone. So…excuse me and my high horse…I feel alone in this.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “You are such an uppity bitch. All you can see is yourself. I have given up so much for you and Mom.”
“Oh my god.” I shook my head in disbelief, taking a step back. “What? What have you given up, Amelia?
“School, opportunities. I moved here for you.”
“School? The one you flunked out of? And what opportunities? A hairdressing career in a dead-end town? Yeah, I’m so sorry you sacrificed it coming here.” Rage tightened my throat as another bout of anger was ready to burst. “You can tell yourself anything you want, Amelia, but you are selfish, lazy, and spoiled. You didn’t move here for me…but because of me. You were afraid. You couldn’t handle the real world on your own.”
I knew I should walk away before I said too much. I turned away from my sister, her mouth parted, her face a deep purple, and I marched to Mia, kissing her on the head, then continued toward the car.
“Wh-what are you doing? You can’t leave us here. What are we supposed to do?”
“It’s called a bus. Use it.” I slammed my door, the hinges groaning with effort. “Or walk.”
“Devon!”
“I have to be at work.” I fought against the voice telling me not to leave them, to give in to Amelia again. The facility wasn’t far from our apartment, and the bus went straight by it. My fury overrode my guilt. I pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.
Deep autumn darkened the sky early, shadows creeping over my car as I rolled into the parking lot behind the bar. The anger had quickly turned to grief and guilt, my hands shaking. I’d meant what I said to her, but I shouldn’t have said it in front of Mia.
“Get it together,” I demanded of myself. I had a full shift to make it through before I could properly lose it. I twisted the key to pull it out of the ignition.
Snap.
I blinked, staring at the half key pinched between my fingers, the rest still stuck in the ignition.
The key was the last drop of rain that broke the dam. A sob heaved from my chest, tears burning my lids until I could no longer hold them in. My will to fight my grief fell away. Putting my face to my palms, I let out my heartache. The pain, guilt, responsibility, and fear felt bottomless. I covered it up, hid it from those around me; I didn’t realize how heavy it had become.
My body shook as my cries filled the car. Drowning in my own tears, I didn’t even hear someone open my door, the night air nipping my bare legs.
“Hey.” A deep voice spoke in my ear, large warm hands cupping the sides of my face, turning my head. I lifted my eyes, heavy with tears, to find Lincoln crouched next to the driver’s seat, his brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”
Part of me wanted to burst out with laughter, asking why he should care, but I didn’t have the energy. Shutting my eyes, I let out a leaden sigh. He let go of my face, not speaking, letting me breathe in and out until I could compose myself. Of all people, I should hate he was the one to see me this way, but when you were covered in crap, pride took the last seat in the bus.
I wiped at my eyes, flinging the broken car key onto the dashboard. Not as if anyone could steal it. Nor would they want to. Probably couldn’t pay a thief to take it.
His gaze landed on the item, standing up. “Is this why you’re upset? A broken car key?”
“Yeah.” I shoved past him, grabbing my bag, and slamming the door. “That’s why I’m sobbing in my car like someone gutted my soul…because I snapped my key.” Annoyance rubbed out my grief like a windshield wiper.
“Then what happened?” He touched my arm and I spun to face him. “Devon?”
“Why do you care?” I glared at him. His mouth snapped shut as if he had no idea why he cared. “Now let me go before my asshole boss tries to fire me, again, for being late.”
Lincoln’s eyebrow curved up, his fingers tightening around my wrist.
I shouldn’t have said those kinds of things to the owner, but I was all out of fuck yous today.
“Maybe you should tell your boss to go fuck himself.” He took a step closer, his voice so soft, it took me a moment to comprehend his words, keeping my surprise locked down.
“Believe me.” I mirrored his step, our figures only a few inches apart, “I dream of saying that to him every day.”
“Sounds like a real asshole.”
“He is.”
We watched each other, not looking away, his touch spreading fire through every nerve.
Finally, he jerked his head away, dropping my arm as if it stung him, his tone icy. “Get to work, Devon. You don’t want your asshole boss getting on your case. Again.”
My lids narrowed on him. I shook my head, spinning around, trudging through the back door, trying to ignore the part that wanted to stay and wanted my boss on my case.
As if I didn’t have enough going on in my life, I didn’t need to add my attraction to the jerk to the pile.
Chapter Eleven
The night was quiet for a Wednesday, and by ten, Nat told me to head home. Even though I was pretty sure Lincoln was somewhere around—I didn’t see him once during my shift—my head still chewed over the strange interaction. Nat shrugged off his absence, and we spent most of the night cleaning and chatting between customers. Nat and I got each other. She understood the pain of loss, growing up fast, being the kid responsible for taking care of the family. It was nice to have a friend here. Skylar and I talked and texted, but I still hadn’t seen her since the move. The gallery where she worked kept her occupied, and my life kept me from doing anything past work, Mom, and watching Mia. I missed Skylar so much and hoped we could see each other soon.
As I stepped out the back door, stars danced above my head, their true brightness tempered by the city lights, but it was still one of my most favorite views. No tall buildings blocked the vast desert sky.
Two steps from my car, I stopped, swearing under my breath. Crap, I totally forgot it was undriveable, and it was too late for a mechanic to fix it.
My gaze roamed over the dashboard, my head crumpling in confusion. My keys were gone.
“Seriously?” I exclaimed, reaching for the door. “They steal a broken key, but not the car? Come on, help me out here.” The door squealed on its hinges as I swung open the door, leaning in.
My breath caught, reversing down my throat as my eyes locked on a sparkly new key sitting in my cupholder. My fingers went to the ignition, realizing it was new as well.
“What the hell?” I dropped into the seat, my mouth still parted in disbelief. It was fixed. My attention darted to my rearview mirror where Lincoln’s black 1970s blazer sat on the other side of the lot.
He had to have done it. No one else would play fairy grandmother and fix my car. I rubbed my head, letting it fall back onto the headrest. What was I supposed to do with that? Why did he do it? He hated me. Wanted me fired.
Growling in frustration, I inserted my new key, turning on the car, which sounded better than it had before. I searched for the usual lighted symbols around my fuel gauge telling me it needed help. I pinched my nose.
They were gone too.
He changed my oil as well? What else had he fixed?
Part of me wanted to march back in and demand his reasoning, grasp why he helped a girl he despised. But instead I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home, fleeing from the temptation of his nearness.
My sister was still up, sitting on the sofa reading a magazine, when I entered the apartment. Mia would have been put to bed long ago.
“Devy?” She dropped her reading material and leaned over the back of the couch, her expression soft. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, setting down my bag, leaning my hip against the counter. “It was slow.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips, her regard going to a spot on our worn sofa. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier… I didn’t mean it.”
“I’m sorry too.” Though I meant what I said, I didn’t have to be so cruel in my delivery. I flopped on the sofa next to her. “It’s only going to get worse. We can’t turn on each other.”
Her long lashes fluttered, and she wiped her eye. “How do you do it? How are you so strong? I can’t even be in the same room with her anymore without wanting to roll into a ball.”
“You don’t think I want to also?” I peered over at her. “But we can’t. Mom needs us. She would not give up on us, not for a second, and I don’t plan on giving up on her.”
“Jesus, Dev.” Amelia dropped her head on the sofa, close to my shoulder. “You’re like a frickin’ saint.”
“Yeah…that’s me,” I snorted.
“Sometimes I forget you are younger.” Amelia cupped my hand, snuggling into me, dropping her head on my shoulder. “You take on so much. And even if I don’t say it, I do appreciate it. And I love you so much.”
My sister was selfish and a pain, but in moments like this, it was easy to forget all of it. “I love you too.” I let my head fall on hers.
“I’m going to try harder,” she said softly.
I had heard it many times before, but I wanted to believe this time she really meant it.
Friday night of Halloween weekend was insane, with customers in costumes of superheroes, sexy cops, slutty rabbits, and a lot of men as women. The place was filled with young coeds dancing everywhere they could, including a few getting up on the tables. Two hours into my shift and I already felt as if I had been here ten—sweaty, tired, and unable to keep up with the drink orders. Julie was slower and struggling even more, and I tried to cover some of her tables too.
The crowds drove Lincoln from his office. He jumped behind the bar. Miguel and Nat tried to make a dent in the hordes at the bar, while Lincoln tried to catch up with the endless drink tickets popping up from Julie and me.
As I waited at the bar while he mixed my five mojitos and eight shots, I tried not to stare at the muscles rippling down his arms as he worked, to little avail.
Damn it. What was wrong with me? And what was it about him? Every day I craved to be near him more and more, especially since he fixed my car, which neither of us had mentioned. It was more than wanting to break the stoic, sexy bartender of his aloof walls. I felt a strange pull, a feeling I had known him in a past life or some crazy shit like that. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt it deep in my bones.
I knew there was no point denying I was attracted to him. I mean, crazy, unreasonably attracted. To the point he was starting to replace the last bad boy who’d occupied my fantasies. This angered and embarrassed me, but he was the reason I climaxed, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
My gaze drifted to his fingers wrapped around the muddler crushing the mint and brown sugar cubes. My gaze darted to the side. I looked down unable to meet his gaze, feeling the heat crawl up my neck, my lids shutting with the fantasy I’d had last night and where I’d imagined those fingers. How they had made me cry out.
“Why are you suddenly blushing?” His raspy voice snapped me back to him, my eyes wide. He had a slight smirk on his face, a glint in his eyes.
“What?”
“Right there.” He flicked his chin at my face. “What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Liar. “It’s hot in here.” I fanned my face, my skin burning hotter. My skin was a light olive color but still showed my emotions.
“Yeah, it is.” He set the mojitos on my tray, lining up the shots to pour, not looking as if he believed my story.
Not able to hold his gaze, I peered over my shoulder to my tables, nibbling my lip.
“That’s what I thought,” he all but whispered, then placed the rest of my order on my tray. “Go.”
Get it together, girl, I ordered myself, turning around and running right into a familiar face. “Amelia? What are you doing here?”
“Hey!” Her grin engulfed her face. “Thought I’d finally check out where you work.”
“Where’s Mia?”
“Oh, I tossed her a candy bar and remote. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
My mouth dropped open.
“See, you’re not the only one with a sense of humor in the family.” She winked. “Jeez, Dev. Relax. Lucia from downstairs is watching her. I needed a night off. I haven’t really been out since we moved here. I took a taxi, so don’t worry.”
“You go out every week with the girls from the salon.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“I’m busy, Mel.” I tried to cut around her, more people joining the tables in my section.
“Don’t worry about me…oh my god…who is that sexy beast of a man?” She pointed over my shoulder. I didn’t need to turn to know who she was looking at, but I still hoped she’d spotted Miguel instead.
No such luck.
Her wide brown eyes were directed straight at Lincoln.
“He’s the owner. Leave it, Amelia. All men who work here are off limits.”
“Sorry, Dev… He is sexy as shit. And so my type.”
“Mel…”
“What do you care? He’s not your type. I’m only going to say hi.”
“No. Don’t.” My words went unheeded. Amelia’s radar was set on Lincoln, and nothing could stop her. She swung her hips a little more as she made her way to the bar, shedding her jacket.
She wore tight jeans and heels. Neither of us had big boobs, but she knew how to use a push-up bra and a sexy, low-cut top to her advantage.
Amelia leaned on the bar, and Lincoln’s head popped up at the sight of her. I couldn’t hear them, but I watched Amelia’s body language turn into femme fatale. She pushed out her boobs, moving her body deliberately, touching her chest and constantly biting or licking her lower lip.
She was gorgeous; there was no doubt about it. Men loved her. She was easy to flirt with and talk to, and she was not shy about going after what she wanted.
I envied that. I was awkward and cautious. Cory had been so easy because we’d been friends for so long before. After him, I didn’t have time to flirt or go out and act my age. I stayed home. Flirting was foreign to me; a language I didn’t know how to speak. And now a burning anger tumbled around my stomach. My hands curled with the desire to grab her arms and yank her away from Lincoln.
“Waitress! Hey,” a man’s voice boomed, drawing me back to my tables. “We need drinks here?”
I rushed to the table and took their order before moving to other tables. Every time I neared any of them, someone needed a new drink, even if I had just been there. Normally, it wouldn’t bother me. Busy meant money. But tonight, my attention was emaciated and my patience even thinner, my head constantly glancing over my shoulder to see what was going on between Amelia and Lincoln, but all I could make out was the top of Lincoln’s head.
“Can you take my table four?” Julie pranced up to me, her face sweaty, her eyes swirled with panic. “I am so in the weeds.”
I really couldn’t. I was in the weeds myself. But for some reason my tongue struggled to form the word no. Taking on more responsibility to lessen others’ stress was what I did.
“Sure.” I nodded
“Oh my god, thank you.” She touched my arm before running off.
Twisting my body to table four, I saw it was full of college-aged guys. Already drunk and rowdy.
Great.
“What can I get you guys?” I asked sternly, not in the mood to deal with bullshit.
“Well, hello there.” A dark-haired guy slurred, his glossy eyes running down my short jean skirt to my legs. “Damn, you’re fucking hot.”
“Thank you. What can I get you?” I showed no emotion. Drunk men were disobedient toddlers. You couldn’t show fear or give them any leeway, otherwise they’d soon be running with scissors and hanging you from the inch of rope you gave them.
“How about your number?” A blond guy leaned over, licking his lips.
“How about your drink order?” My patience was cracking.
“Smile, sweetheart, we’re nice guys.” The first dark-haired guy grabbed my arm. “We only bite if you ask us to.”
Anger sizzled up my neck. I ground my teeth to keep from saying something that would cost me tips. This came with waiting tables, part of the territory you had to learn to handle, but it never became less degrading or irritating.
“Come sit with us.” The dark-haired guy tugged on my arm, pulling me into his lap.
