Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (2 page)

Brittney turned to Keith. "Go on, baby," she
said. "Tell her."

I looked at Keith. "Baby?"

Keith cleared his throat. "Well, uh, you
never showed up for your shift, and um –"

"And," Britney said with a flip of her hair,
"you're totally fired."

Again, I looked to Keith. He was still
covering his privates, but his jaw was set in that stubborn line I
knew all too well.

"Is that so?" I said with a lot more surprise
than I felt.

In truth, I
had
expected to be fired.
I had a pretty good idea why Keith had called me here. He wanted
the pleasure of firing me in person. If I had any dignity
whatsoever, I'd have told him to take his ultimatum and shove it.
But dignity was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

So here I was, waiting for the hammer, but
hoping for a miracle.

Keith squared his shoulders. "You know the
rules," he said. "Section three, item two, under employee conduct."
He spoke like he knew the employee manual by heart, which he
probably did. Oddly enough, quoting the thing word-for-word was the
one thing he was actually good at.

His voice picked up steam. "Employees who
miss their shifts will be subject to disciplinary action, up to and
including termination."

I nodded. "Uh-huh. And what does the manual
say about, oh, I dunno, screwing skanks in the parking lot?"

"Hey!" Brittney said. "I'm no skank."

This wasn't true. If you searched on the word
skank, you'd find a picture of Brittney, along with her friend,
Amber. They were the worst kind of groupies. Except they didn't
specialize in rock stars, or even restaurant managers, regardless
of what it might look like now.

They specialized in billionaire bad boys from
Detroit. Okay, one in particular. Their latest conquest had been
Lawton Rastor – former underground fighter, famous reality star,
fitness mogul, and yes, the guy with the handcuffs.

I rubbed my wrists. The skin was still raw,
but not half as raw as my aching heart. Walking away from Lawton
tonight had been one of the hardest things I'd ever done,
especially after he'd begged me to stay.

But I wasn't that girl, the one who'd excuse
the inexcusable just because the skeletons in some guy's past were
rattling too hard for him to handle.

"We weren't screwing," Keith said. "And
besides, I'm on break." He stuck out his chin. "What I do on my own
time is my own business."

Keith was almost always on break. Restaurant
management was an incredibly hard job, but somehow Keith managed to
log a lot of hours without actually working. We all figured he had
naked goat pictures of the owner or something.

"Really?" I crossed my arms. "You do realize
you'll be on a permanent break if this gets out?" Was it true? Hard
to say. But I was desperate. It was worth a shot, right?

Keith narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening
me?"

"I dunno," I said. "Are
you
threatening
me
?"

His gaze slid to Brittney, and then back to
me. "You know the rules," he said. "No exceptions."

I gave him a hard look. "Is that so?"

"It wouldn't be fair to the other girls," he
said.

I let my gaze drift downward. When it reached
the land of Squidville, I gave him a long, slow nod. "Uh-huh."

With one hand, he reached up to straighten
his tie. He stopped in mid-gesture when he discovered no
shirt-collar to secure it to. A trickle of sweat inched down his
brow. "Go ahead," he said. "Tell someone. You can't prove
anything." He gave me a nasty smile. "It's your word against
mine."

"Yeah," Brittney said. "Who's gonna believe a
ditz like you, anyway?"

I stared at her. A ditz? Sure, I played one
at work, but in real life, I was anything but ditzy. If nothing
else, I was smart enough to know I couldn’t afford to lose my
job.

I had too many bills and an accounting degree
that was getting me nowhere. Waitressing was the closest thing to a
career I had.

Pathetic, I know.

Thinking about everything – the stalled
career, the bills I couldn’t pay, and the obligations that were
piling up – I felt my hands tighten into fists. That's when I
realized something. My hands weren't exactly empty. In one hand, I
had my purse. In the other, I still held my phone. That phone had a
camera.

I looked at Keith, naked except for the
necktie. I looked at Brittney, not naked, but decidedly disheveled.
I looked down to my phone.

I shouldn’t.

But I did.

Josie lowered her voice. "Watch out for Keith
tonight. There's something funny going on."

Absently, I nodded. If she only knew the half
of it.

We were standing at the waitress station. She
was throwing together a couple of salads while I topped a tray of
sundaes with whipped cream and cherries.

I gave Josie a sideways glance. Her auburn
hair was way too big, her tight white blouse showed too much
cleavage, and her flared pink skirt was a couple inches too short
to be considered decent. Or maybe it just seemed that way because
of those little bobby socks that, if anything, made the rest of her
getup seem that much more obscene.

But who was I to judge? I was dressed exactly
the same way. Except tonight, I wore clunky red bracelets on each
wrist. The bracelets clashed with the rest of the outfit, but I
couldn't afford to care. It was either that, or explain away the
red, raw skin where the handcuffs had been not so long ago.

Maybe I shouldn't have tugged so hard against
them. It's not like it had done any good. If Lawton hadn't finally
unlocked them after realizing his epic screw-up, I'd probably still
be trapped in his basement, watching him watch me.

In my mind's eye, I could still see him
standing there, his eyes flat and his jaw set. The way he looked at
me, I'd never forget. It was burned into my brain like the time my
Mom called me a slut in fifth grade for holding hands with Shawn
Proctor.

Like she was in any position to judge.

"We were taking bets," Josie was saying.
"Odds of you getting fired were running five to one."

I tried to smile. "Which way did
you
bet?"

If I were Josie, I'd totally bet against me.
I'd already been on probation. I'd been hours late for my shift. I
wasn't exactly the manager's pet. No doubt, I was
supposed
to be fired.

Saved by a backseat blowjob and an itchy
camera finger. Well, that was one for the record books.

But who was I kidding? Eventually, Keith
would find some way to get rid of me. If he couldn’t do it
directly, he'd have to get creative. It was only a matter of
time.

"It was because of the flu," Josie was
saying.

I squinted over at her. "Huh?"

"The flu," she said. "It's still making the
rounds, so I figured you'd be safe another week at least." She
grinned. "I made fifty bucks. Sonya was so pissed."

"Nice to know she's rooting for me," I
said.

"Eh, don't take it personal. She's having a
rough day. She's
only
been here since lunch."

"Twelve hours?" I said. In the world of
waitressing, that was a lifetime. "Why so long?"

"She's covering for some girl on the day
shift. Even me, I should've been gone hours ago." She winced. "My
feet are totally killing me."

"Who are
you
covering for?" I
asked.

"Well, you, actually. When you didn't show
up, Keith told me I had to stay. He didn't even ask. He just barked
out an order, like a drill sergeant or something."

"Oh. Sorry." I felt the color rise to my
cheeks. "But I'm here now. Can't you go home?"

She shook her head. "We're still short.
Listen to this. Before you got here, Jasmine threw up in the
parking lot."

"Our parking lot?" I could totally
sympathize. I felt like throwing up too. But in my case, it had
nothing to do with the flu. Still, poor Jasmine.

"Oh yeah," Josie said. "Right outside the
front door. It was pretty disgusting, actually. So get this. Keith
hears about it, and he totally flips out."

I rolled my eyes. "Like
that's
a
surprise."

"No kidding," Josie said. "So he goes
outside, and he practically drags her back to his office. And guess
what he does next?"

"What?"

Josie was grinning. "The moron threatens to
fire her."

I stared at Josie. As someone who'd been on
the firing line myself, I saw no reason to smile.

"Oh, don't give me that look," she said. "You
haven't heard the funny part. So Jasmine starts crying. And she
gets so worked up, get this. She throws up
again
. But this
time –" Josie's smile widened "– it's on Keith."

I felt the first tug of a real smile.
"Seriously?"

"Seriously. He had to change his pants and
everything. You should've seen him. He was madder than hell until
–" Josie's smile faded "– some blonde in this super-tight dress
shows up asking for him."

My smile faded too. Brittney the Skank. It
had to be. I was almost afraid to ask. "So what happened then?"

"So Keith and Blondie, they're in his office
maybe five, ten minutes. And when they come out, Keith's looking
all happy. It was kind of creepy, actually."

Creepy? She should've seen the squid. I
stifled a shudder and nodded for Josie to continue.

"So Keith walks her out, and he's gone
forever." She snorted. "It's like they went to some cheap hotel or
something."

Yeah, I thought. A pine-scented hotel on
wheels.

Working on autopilot, I added the last cherry
to the sundaes. I glanced down for a final check. "Oh crap," I
said. "Look at these things." They were half melted already. I
picked up the tray. "Save that thought. I'll be right back."

Josie grabbed my arm. "Wait," she said.
"There's a reason I'm telling you all this."

Something in her voice sent alarm bells
ringing. Slowly I returned the tray to the counter. I turned to
face her. "What is it?"

Josie glanced around. "The blonde? The way I
hear it, she's gonna be your replacement."

My mouth fell open. "Brittney's taking my
job? Here?"

"Yeah, sorry." Josie gave me a sympathetic
look. "Freddie the cook heard them talking out back. Apparently,
she starts next week. As soon as she's trained, you're outta
here."

"That jerk!" I glanced across the dining
room. I spotted Keith lounging against the hostess stand. When he
saw me looking, he gave me a slow, toothy smile.

A sick feeling settled into my stomach.

But this didn't make any sense. I had that
photo of him, with Brittney too. He couldn’t fire me. Not anymore.
Josie's information
had
to be outdated. Right?

"So anyway," Josie said, "it's gonna take a
lot more than the flu to save you this time."

Shit. She was right. Even if by some miracle,
I was able to keep my job, I'd be working alongside the bimbo from
hell. And that bimbo happened to be sleeping – or whatever – with
my boss.

I felt like screaming. That was the
best
-case scenario. Worst case, I'd be gone. And
she'd
be taking my place. It wasn't like this was my dream
job or anything, but until I found something better, this was the
closest thing I had.

I was having a hard time catching my breath.
Would Brittney be taking my place elsewhere too? In Lawton's bed?
They'd been intimate before. With me out of the picture, would
Brittney slide back in? I made a sound of disgust. More accurately,
he'd
be sliding back into
her
.

I squared my shoulders. Fine. Brittney could
have him. In fact, they deserved each other. Totally.

So why did I feel like throwing up? An ugly
image slithered into my brain. Lawton and Brittney, naked,
together. I choked back a wave of nausea.

If I was lucky, it was just the volcanic
flu.

"I'm really sorry," Josie was saying.

I gripped the counter. "Yeah, well, I'm not
gone yet," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "And
besides, if I had a dollar for every time I was
supposed
to
be fired, I'd probably own this place."

"Well, you
have
been on a roll
lately," she said.

I blinked hard as I stared down at the
pathetic sundaes. Some might call it a roll. I'd call it a giant
suck-fest of bad luck and worse choices. When I reached for the
spoons, my hand was shaking. Was Keith going back on our deal? So
soon?

"That asshole," I muttered.

"Yeah," Josie said, glancing toward Keith.
"He really does hate you, doesn't he?"

Well, if he didn't hate me before, he
definitely did now.

I'd learned a few things tonight. One, it's
hard for a guy to chase you when he's not wearing pants. Two, it's
not any easier for a groupie in stiletto shoes. And three, I wasn't
above blackmail when push came to shove.

In the end, Brittney broke a heel, Keith
broke down and said I could keep my job, and as for me, I broke a
nail hanging onto that cell phone like my life depended on it.

In a way, it did. One lost paycheck, and I'd
be back on my Dad's basement couch, sucking up the smell of sour
milk while the rest of the household slept on therapeutic
mattresses with Egyptian sheets.

While dodging Brittney in the parking lot,
I'd miraculously managed to text that picture to my best friend,
Erika for safe-keeping. Two copies were better than one, right?

I should be ashamed of myself.

Except I wasn't.

Still, something was definitely off. In the
parking lot, Keith had been panicked, scared even. I snuck a quick
glance across the dining room. Now, he looked ready to strike.
Something was very wrong. I turned back to Josie.

At the look on her face, I stopped short. She
was studying my sundaes with an odd, vacant expression. I followed
her gaze, and stifled a gasp. One of my bracelets had shifted
forward, exposing the raw, angry skin for the whole world to
see.