Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (7 page)

Shaggy turned toward the source of the
flashing. "Dude, c'mon!" he yelled. "Cut that out! Give us some
privacy, will ya?"

Suddenly, I heard a burst of laughter. It
sounded half-crazed.

Oh my God. It was coming from me. Through
this entire spectacle, I'd been too transfixed to move. But now, I
couldn't help it. I pushed away from Lawton and stumbled toward the
shattered phone. I looked down.

"It doesn't look okay anymore," I said, with
another snort of laughter.

"What's so damn funny?" Shaggy said.

"Do you really have to ask?" I turned to the
redhead. "Sorry, I know it's not funny. I just –" I looked to the
phone. "Oh my God. I
so
wanted to do that."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Weren't you our
waitress?"

"She's not gonna be anyone's waitress," said
a male voice somewhere behind me, "if she doesn't get her butt back
to work pronto."

I stifled a groan. I knew that voice. I
turned around, and sure enough, there he was, the worst boss
ever.

Keith elbowed his way to the front of the
small crowd. He stopped and put both hands on his hips. "Break
time's over," he said.

"What break?" I said. "You sent me home.
Remember?"

"No," he said in a tone of forced patience.
"I sent you on break."

"Get real," I said. "You did not."

"Oh yeah? Check the schedule," he said.
"You've got three hours left. Or did you forget that too?"

"I didn't forget anything," I said. "You were
the one who clocked me out."

Shaking his head, Keith took a long,
lingering look at the scene surrounding us, taking in the battered
muscle car, the destroyed cell phone, the crowd of gawkers. And
then his gaze stopped. His eyes widened. I turned to see what he
was staring at.

It was Lawton, standing directly to my right.
He was studying Keith with flat, hooded eyes. Lawton's hands, loose
at his sides, twitched like he wanted to throttle someone. Who that
someone was, I had no idea, given the wide range of possibilities.
Shaggy? Keith? I swallowed. Me?

"Hey," Keith said to Lawton, "aren't you
–"

"Yeah," Lawton said, flicking his head in my
direction. "Chloe's boyfriend."

I whirled to face him. "You are not."

Lawton stared down at me, his eyes pleading.
He reached for my hand. Our fingers brushed, and I fought the urge
to fall into his arms, safe from everything.

There was only one problem. I wouldn’t be
safe from the most dangerous person of all. Him.

Blinking hard, I pulled my hand away.

Somewhere near Lawton's car, I heard Shaggy's
voice, low and earnest. "Hey Dude, can I borrow your phone?"

"Screw you," a male voice said.

"Aw c'mon," Shaggy said. "Be a sport, will
ya?"

"You touch that phone," a female voice said,
"and you're a dead man."

Shaggy groaned theatrically. "Aw c'mon,
Jen!"

Nearby, Keith cleared his throat, far too
noisily for it to be genuine. I glanced in his direction.

"Chloe," he said through clenched teeth.
"Might I speak with you a moment?" He gave the crowd a calculating
look. "In private."

I returned my gaze to Lawton. "You should
go," I told him.

He shook his head. "Not before we talk."

What the hell? Was he trying to get me fired?
"I can't," I said. "I've gotta go."

"Then come by later," he said. "Promise
me."

Slowly, I shook my head.

"Alright," he said, flicking his gaze to his
car. "I'll wait here."

For all I knew, he'd be waiting three hours.
Maybe more. "You can't wait here," I said. "It might be all
night."

He looked unimpressed. "I don't care."

Shit. I
should
make him wait. It would
serve him right. But damn it, I'd never be able to focus on my job,
knowing that Lawton was out here in the parking lot. I was barely
holding it together as it was.

"Alright, fine," I said. "I'll stop by. But
it might be morning before I get off work."

Something in his shoulders eased. He gave a
slow nod. "I'll be waiting."

Nearby, Keith cleared his throat again.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Waiting. I know how
that
feels."

"Alright, I'm coming!" I turned back to
Lawton. "Go, alright? Please?"

When he gave a small nod, I turned toward
Keith, who motioned me to follow him. With a sigh, I kept pace with
him as he strode several car lengths away. When we were out of
earshot, he said, "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're
playing here, but we simply can't have this."

I studied him with raised eyebrows. "This?
Which 'this' are you referring to?"

He crossed his arms. "Do I need to spell it
out for you?"

I crossed my arms too. "Apparently."

He glanced at my arms. "Are you mocking
me?"

"Look," I said, "whatever you've got to say,
just say it, alright?"

"Oh, I'll say it, alright," he said. "And
you'd better listen good, because this is a professional
establishment. We can't have —" he gave a little wave of his hands
as if searching for the words "—domestic disturbances here on the
premises."

"Domestic disturbances?" I said.
"Seriously?"

His expression hardened. "In case you forgot,
this is your place of employment, not a pickup joint."

I couldn't help it. I laughed in his face.
"Says the guy who screws customers in the parking lot."

Keith looked around and lowered his voice.
"She's not a customer." He lifted his chin. "She's my
girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah? Since when?"

"That's none of your concern."

"I heard she's gonna be working here," I
said. "Is it true?"

"So what if she is?" he said. "She applied,
and we're short-staffed. She's not getting any preferential
treatment, if that's what you're implying."

I squinted at him. "Doesn't the employee
manual expressly forbid dating between managers and their
employees?"

He gave me a nasty smile. "Not when no one
knows about it."

I gave him a nasty smile right back. "Well,
that's the thing, Keith. I do know about it. And I can prove it
too."

His smile widened. "Really? How?"

I felt my own smile falter. He knew exactly
how. Unless – did he know something I didn't?

My phone was still inside the restaurant. But
it wasn't like I should need to worry about it. It was locked in
one of the back lockers, along with my purse and a few other
personal items.

"I'm glad we had this little chat," Keith
continued. "Now get back to work before I have to write you
up."

"For the last time," I said, "you sent me
home."

"And for the last time," he said in a mocking
tone, "I sent you on break."

"Oh c'mon, you clocked me out yourself.
Remember?"

"What I remember," he said, "is that
according to the manual, no one except the employee can clock his
or herself in or out. So, to answer your question, no, I don't
remember because that would be a clear violation of company
policy."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"I'll ignore your attitude, and tell you what
I do know," he said. "Your break ended thirty minutes ago, and
rather than return to your station, you're out here, living it up
with your boyfriend."

My jaw dropped. Living it up?

"If you still want a job," he said, "I
suggest you get back to work." He gave me a thin smile. "Before I
send you home, permanently."

I stared at him, thinking of all the times
he'd threatened my job within the last few weeks. The first time,
it had rubbed me raw. Now, I felt like one giant callous. Or maybe
that was only the fatigue talking.

But all that aside, if I had the chance to
work a few more hours, I'd be stupid to not take it. It was nearly
three in the morning, prime time for the after-bar rush. The tips
alone would go a long way toward Grandma's rent money.

I turned toward the restaurant and started
walking.

"About time you listened," Keith said,
falling in beside me.

As I made the long trek across the parking
lot, I took one final look over my shoulder. Lawton stood, leaning
against the hood of his car, his arms crossed and his gaze on me.
Nearby, Shaggy was scooping up remnants of his – correction, his
girlfriend's – cell phone. Other than Shaggy's girlfriend, most of
the gawkers were gone.

"When you get back," Keith said, "the next
table's yours. Got it?"

"Oh, I've got it alright," I said. "But
first, I'm checking my timecard."

"Why would you wanna do that?"

"Because," I said," "if I'm clocked out,
you'd better believe I'm clocking back in."

He cleared his throat. "Well, if you are
clocked out, just remember, it wasn't me who did it."

I gave him a sideways glance. "Uh-huh."

Besides, there was something else I needed to
check.

My phone. Because I had a bad feeling it
wasn't exactly the way I'd left it.

I stood in the back room, staring down at my
phone. For the third time, I frantically scrolled through its
photos.

It was stupid, really. The phone was
relatively new. I'd taken only a handful of shots, including
several by accident.

The worst, or the best, depending on how you
looked at it, had been an image of Lawton stark naked. That picture
I'd finally deleted, but not before it caused me all kinds of grief
by giving Lawton the worst impression of me and my intentions.

But right now, there was only one photo I was
looking for – the one of Keith and Brittney in all their backseat
glory. It was the very last photo I'd taken. It should've shown up
first. Instead, it wasn't showing up at all.

I glanced again at my locker. I'd locked it
myself, using my own combination lock. The lock was intact when I'd
returned. Had I deleted the photo myself? Maybe by accident? It
seemed unlikely.

Thank God I'd texted a copy to Erika. I
scrolled through my outgoing texts, and there it was, along with
her response, a simple "LOL."

Laugh out loud. Yeah, it
was
pretty
funny. But right now, I wasn't laughing. Someone had tampered with
my phone. I just knew it. And if the missing photo wasn't
confirmation enough, Keith's attitude told me all I needed to
know.

He wasn't scared. He was an obnoxious asshat.
Like he always was.

"Hey Chloe!" he called from somewhere out
front. "You coming out here, or what?"

Speaking of asshats.

I tucked my phone back into my purse just in
time to see Keith round the corner, carrying a yellow timecard. I
slammed the locker shut and gave the lock a few spins – not that it
would do any good, assuming my suspicions were correct.

Still, I felt myself smile as I considered
the thing Keith didn't know, that I had another copy.

"What are you so happy about?" he said.

"Nothing." I looked to his hand. "Is that my
timecard?"

"Yeah," he said, thrusting the thing in my
face. "Initial here. It
does
seem that someone clocked you
out." He puffed out his chest. "But you'll be happy to know I did
the adjustment personally."

I rolled my eyes and pulled a pen from my
apron. Wordlessly, I added my initials to the adjusted entry and
turned to leave the locker area.

"You're welcome!" he called to my receding
back.

A minute later, I was out in the dining area,
running my butt off with the other girls. I still owed Josie an
explanation of what I'd seen outside. But between the packed dining
room and Keith's new habit of popping in and out of the waitress
station, talking to her was nearly impossible.

In a way, I was glad. I wasn't sure what to
say.

Just before my shift ended, I was going from
table to table, refilling the salt shakers when Josie sidled up
next to me.

"Alright," she said in a hushed tone. "I got
the scoop."

It was almost dawn, and most of the tables
were vacant.

"Scoop?" I said, glancing around the nearly
empty restaurant.

"Scoop. News. Whatever," she said, waving
away my confusion. "About the guys in the trunk." She put her hands
on her hips. "By the way, you were supposed to be giving
me
these juicy details."

I grimaced. "Sorry about that, but Keith's
been dogging me all night."

"No kidding," she said. "He's like your own
personal shadow. What's up with that?"

I shrugged.

"Forget Keith." She grinned. "You're gonna
love this."

I paused in mid-reach, the salt shakers
forgotten. "Yeah?"

"Totally." Josie looked around. "Well,
remember the guy at the bar?"

"Which one?"

"Older guy. Name's Bruce. But that's not
important. Anyway, he got the whole story from one of the
cops."

"Really? How?"

She shrugged. "They're buddies or something.
But check this out. According to Bruce, those two guys ended up
locked in their own trunk because of this stupid fraternity prank
that got totally messed up."

I stared at her. "Messed up? How?"

"Apparently," she said, "they were supposed
to end up at some sorority bash, and got dropped here instead. Can
you believe it?"

No. I couldn't believe it. I knew better.
Less than twelve hours earlier, those same two guys had tried to
drag me into that same dark sedan. But instead, they'd been handed
their asses by Lawton and his brother, and then locked in their own
trunk.

No way I'd be sharing that little nugget
though. "What about the ski masks?" I said.

This ought to be good.

"Oh that's the best part," she said. "So
apparently, they were supposed do some panty-raid, burglar skit
when they got there –"

"Where?" I asked.

"The sorority house. But they ended up here."
She grinned. "In their underwear. God, what a couple of
dumb-asses."