You had no choice.
Wasn’t that the damn truth?
“Listen, the dinners they serve are like fifty bucks a plate. It’s for couples and stuff. And there’s a bar. After ten, the place is completely shut down to those under twenty-one,” I explain. It’s truly the most beautiful, elegant restaurant I’ve ever seen. Let alone worked at. It’s organized, efficient, everything and everyone has a place. The staff isn’t very friendly, though. More like snobby. I’m sure they sneer at me behind my back, the white-trash townie who’s come to work among their elitist ranks.
Whatever. All I care about is the tips. And the fact that Colin believes in me. It’s been a long time since someone believed in me. I thought Drew did but the longer he’s absent from my life, the more it proves to me that was all fake. We just got a little too caught up.
“You can’t even bring me any leftovers, huh?” Owen’s question snaps me out of my thoughts and I glance at him, see the smirk on his face.
He’s getting more and more good-looking as time passes. I have no idea if he has a girlfriend or not, but I really hope he puts that sort of thing off for a least a little while longer. Relationships are nothing but trouble.
“That’s so gross.” I roll my eyes. I used to bring him home burgers from La Salle’s. Which goes to show I completely spoiled him.
“Well, Mom sure as hell isn’t going to feed me. Sorry,” he blurts when he catches my evil eye over his curse. “And I feel like a jerk with how much I hang out at Wade’s house. His mom has to be getting sick of me.”
Guilt swamps me. I need this job. I need both of my jobs and that means I can’t be there for Owen. Making him dinners, keeping on top of his homework, forcing him to clean that dump of a room. The apartment has three bedrooms, a rarity but in demand in a college town, and the rent is getting more expensive. Considering my mom is never here and it’s usually just Owen and me, I’m considering looking for another apartment. For just the two of us and without my mom included.
This little tidbit will piss her off when I tell her. It doesn’t matter that she spends the majority of her time with Larry. It doesn’t matter that she’s never here and doesn’t have a job and can’t afford the rent. She’ll still be angry and take it personally, like Owen and I are forcing her out.
I kind of am. I don’t want her here anymore. She’s not a good influence, Owen’s uncomfortable around her and so am I. I’m done.
But for whatever reason, I’m scared to confront her. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of unnecessary drama. And that’s what my mom is. Complete and total drama.
My cell beeps, indicating I have a text, and I check it, see that it’s from my new boss. Unease slips down my spine as I read the message.
What are you doing?
I type in the good employee response.
Getting ready for work.
Hey, it’s the truth.
I’m in the neighborhood. Let me pick you up and take you there.
I stare at his message for too long, ignoring Owen as he starts griping about what he’s going to have to fix himself for dinner. What the hell could Colin want? Why would he be in my shit hole of a neighborhood? It makes no sense. Unless he purposely came looking for me…
I don’t have to be at work for almost an hour, I reply.
I’ll pay you for the extra time. Come on.
Sighing, I type in my answer: Give me five minutes.
“I gotta go,” I tell Owen as I head for my bedroom. I haven’t changed into my work uniform, if you can call it that. All the waitresses have to wear the most outrageous dresses I’ve ever seen. There are at least four different dresses and they’re sexy as all get-out, with our boobs hanging out or they fit us skintight. I get the sex appeal thing. We don’t look slutty or anything, but if I bend over wrong, I’m giving everyone a flash of my ass. Boy-short undies are the name of the game for those dresses.
I’m grabbing my dress off the hanger when I catch Owen lurking in my doorway. “What’s up?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “What do you think of me getting a tattoo?”
My head spins for a moment. Oh my God, where does he come up with this stuff? “First, you’re only fourteen, so legally you can’t get one. Second, you’re only fourteen. What could you possibly want to have tattooed forever on your body?”
“I dunno.” He shrugs again. “I thought it might be cool. I mean you just got one so why can’t I?”
“Maybe because I’m an adult and you’re not?” A few weeks before Christmas, when I still believed Drew and I had a chance, I got one. The stupidest tattoo you could ever imagine. I thought by doing it, by having a piece of him, no matter how small, permanently etched into my skin, I could somehow call him back to me.
Didn’t work. And now I’m stuck. Thank God, it’s small. I could probably have it filled in if I wanted to.
Right now, I don’t want to.
“So you put some guy’s initials on your body and it’s cool but I can’t get an artistic tat of a dragon on my back or whatever? So unfair.” He shakes his head, his dirty blond hair getting in his eyes, and I want to smack him.
And I also want to draw him into my arms and ask where did the sweet, simple kid of not even a year ago run away to? Because he sure as hell isn’t around here anymore.
“It’s different.” I turn away from him and yank the dress off the hanger, clutching it in my hand. “I need to change so you need to go.”
“Who’s the guy, anyway? You never did tell me.”