There was a big basketball game on television today and the place would be packed, so we were both eager to get there. The extra customers would bring in extra money, and now that we'd both be working a shift, we'd bring in double. At least this day offered some sort of silver lining. I didn't get a lot of tips, but if the customers got drunk enough, a few of them would confuse me with a waitress and I'd make a little bit of cash, too. My usual MO was to stay out of the way as much as possible, especially when it came to the drunk executives who worked at the mine company headquarters in Evansly, but not today. Today I'd stay right in the way. I scowled down at my moving feet. They might look classy in their suits and gold jewelry, but down deep, they were just entitled scums who acted as if us backwoods women were damn lucky to get their attention at all. Of course, plenty of the girls around here thought just that and acted accordingly. I'd heard a particularly loud executive yell drunkenly to his group of out-of-town co-workers, "Take your pick, gentlemen, they come cheap," and then guffaw loudly. Problem was, food and heat didn't and sometimes you did what you had to do. And sometimes, you got it in your fool head that one of them wanted to save you from the miserable life you were living.
By six o'clock that night the shift was in full swing, the bar packed with boisterous men, cheering and yelling at the large flat screen on the wall.
I moved through the crowd, gathering empty glasses onto my tray and delivering food to the tables that had ordered it. A particularly drunk guy in a red shirt kept grabbing my ass whenever I walked close and so I went the long way around the tables each time to avoid him.
"Come on, gorgeous!" he yelled as I made my way back to the kitchen to drop the dirty glasses off to the dishwasher. "Bring that sweet little ass back over here."
"He giving you trouble, honey?" Brenda, an older waitress, pretty in a beat-down kind of way, who had been working at Al's forever, asked when I'd returned to the bar. She nodded her head in Red Shirt’s direction.
I glanced over at him. "I can handle it, Brenda," I said, giving her a small smile.
"You let me know if you need me to take over your section. I've got plenty of extra to grope. I don't mind sharing a little." She squeezed a handful of her generous backside and winked at me. I laughed.
I successfully avoided Red Shirt for the rest of my shift and he left with his group of friends as the game ended and the bar started clearing out a little bit.
As I wiped down a table near the back, Marlo came over to me. "Hey, Ten, I asked Brenda and she said she could give you a lift home."
I stopped wiping and looked up at her. She fidgeted slightly. "Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Uh," she glanced back to a guy sitting at a table near the door. I didn't recognize him—probably another guy in town on business. I narrowed my eyes, taking him in from across the room. "That's Corey. He asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him tonight and . . ."
Dinner? It was way too late for dinner. I moved to the side so her body was blocking me from Corey. "Do not go home with some guy you just met at this bar, Mar. Have you already forgotten how that turned out—"
She straightened her spine. "No, I haven't forgotten." She glanced over her shoulder at Corey and gave him a small smile. When she looked back at me she said, "I'm not stupid, Ten. I know what Corey wants. I don't have delusions that he's going to marry me and we're going to go riding off into the sunset. I just want some company, is that so bad?"
I sighed, my shoulders drooping. "What about Sam?"
Marlo bristled. "What about Sam? We're just friends. Sam doesn't own me."
"He'd care that you went home with Corey," I said.
"Well, he shouldn't. That would be stupid of him."
I sighed. "Yeah." I studied her pretty face for a moment. "Just be careful, okay? And stay in public with him, well-lit areas that—"
Marlo laughed and leaned forward, hugging me. "I will. I'll be home in a couple hours."
"Okay."
I went back to wiping the last of the tables off as Marlo clocked out and then waved at me as she and Corey walked out the front door of Al's.
I went to clock out and when I saw Brenda, she said, "Honey, I'm sorry. I just went out to warm my car up and it won't start. Dave's coming by in about an hour to pick me up. Do you mind waiting?"
I really didn't want to hang out in this smoky bar for another couple hours waiting for Brenda's husband. "That's okay, I'm used to walking and it's not cold."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I smiled and after calling goodbye to everyone, I walked outside. It was a mild spring night, but I still pulled my sweater on and folded my arms over my chest. I was going to have to buy a few new things soon. Some of my clothes had actual holes in them. I'd talk to Marlo and see what we could afford.
Pine needles picked up and blew in the wind at my feet as I trudged through the dirt and leaves on the side of the highway. A breeze blew gently through my hair. I looked up at the moon, recalling what it'd looked like hanging over us in the meadow as Kyland moved above me, his skin damp with passion. I shivered in want, my steps speeding up. Maybe I'd stop at his house. Surely I had that right. I heard a car coming behind me and moved as far as I could away from the road. The car went whizzing by me and then I looked up as I heard it slow and pull to the side of the embankment.
My steps slowed and I squinted as I walked toward the silver car. Was that Jemma Clark's brother's car? As I got closer, I realized that, no, this car was in much better shape than his, still running, but no one getting out. Then the door opened and Red Shirt stepped out of the driver's seat, weaving slightly. "Hey, pretty girl, I've been waiting for you." He smiled a droopy-lidded smile and began walking toward where I now stood still, nerves assaulting me. I looked up and down the highway. It was deserted.
I started walking around his vehicle and called over to him, "My ride should be along any minute. Nice to see you, though."
As I walked along the passenger side of his car, he started coming around the front and I increased my speed, breaking into a jog when he increased his speed, too. Fear pounded through my blood as he took up chase behind me. I let out a small yelp as his hand made contact with my shoulder, but then I pulled ahead and for a brief second, I thought he'd give it up and walk back to his car. I dared to glance behind me and in that instant, his hand grabbed hold of my sweater and he yanked. I went flying backward, hitting his chest with my back as his arms went around me and he let out a loud half-laugh/half-victory cry. "Let me go!" I yelled, panic causing tears to spring to my eyes as I sucked in a sob.
A car drove slowly by us and I yelled out, "Help!" as my eyes connected with those of the driver's, a woman. But she looked away and sped off down the highway.
Red Shirt's hot breath was at my ear. "Relax, pretty thing, I've got you. Feisty, aren't you? I just wanna get to know you. You kept running away from me at the bar. Let's go somewhere where we can get acquainted." His hand ran up my ribcage and cupped my breast, squeezing it harshly.
"No!" I screamed, kicking backward with my legs, connecting with his shins. He let out a pained grunt and let go of me. I whirled around, and struck with my fist, connecting with the side of his head. He released an enraged growl and struck back at me. Pain exploded behind my eye and I stumbled, off balance, my butt landing in the dirt, a whoosh of air escaping my mouth. I crab-crawled backward in the dirt as Red Shirt stalked toward me. I sprang to my feet just in time to see a car pull up right behind Red Shirt's and a man jump out of the driver’s seat. I turned to run when the man called out, "Tenleigh! It's okay." I whipped my head back around and saw it was Jamie Kearney walking toward Red Shirt and I stopped where I was, tears running down my cheeks as I heaved in big breaths of air.
Jamie was in my grade in school, his father was Edward Kearney, the man my mama had had an affair with.
"Hey, man," Red Shirt said, taking a step toward him. "We got this covered—" Jamie punched him in the face and Red Shirt went down hard in the gravel, not even breaking his own fall. I cried out, bringing my hands up to my mouth. I was shaking all over. As Jamie hefted Red Shirt up and carried him over his shoulder to his car, I quickly took stock of myself. My sweater was torn and hanging where Red Shirt had grabbed it, and my eye felt like it was quickly swelling closed. I brought my finger up to my mouth and when I brought it down, there was blood on it.
Jamie threw an unconscious Red Shirt into his still idling car and then reached in and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He leaned in and did something I couldn't see, and when he leaned back up, he was holding a pair of jeans in one hand and the keys in the other. He slammed the door shut and brought his arm back, throwing the keys into the forest next to the highway.
"You all right?" he asked, throwing the jeans over his arm and turning toward me.
I nodded my head shakily as he approached me. His lips thinned as he took me in, but he didn't touch me. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
I hesitated. I'd gone to school with Jamie for the last four years, but I didn't really know him too well. In fact, I avoided him whenever and wherever I could—I could only figure he didn't look too fondly on any member of my family, including me. He'd been there that day my mama had dragged us up his long driveway—the day his father had spit on us. I'd seen him watching us out the window as we'd turned away.
He watched me now as I hesitated and then he reached in his pocket, bringing something red and shiny out. He walked it over to me, holding it out so that I could take it from his outstretched hand. It was a Swiss Army knife.
"If I try anything that makes you uncomfortable, you stab me in the eye with that," he said, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.
I released a breath and smiled a small smile back at him, my racing heart slowing enough that I could get a full breath through my body again. I took the knife from him. I didn't say anything, but I followed him to his car and got in the passenger side. He got in and threw the jeans in the back seat. I glanced back at them, confused, and then sat huddled against the passenger door as Jamie pulled out onto the highway. I looked out the back window—Red Shirt still hadn't sat up in his car.
"What if he's dead?" I asked.
Jamie glanced in his rearview mirror. "He's not dead. He's just going to wake up with a big headache and a massive hangover . . . and he'll have to walk himself back to his hotel . . . pant-less." He looked over at me, and the side of his lip quirked up slightly. I stared at him with my one good eye, my own lip quirking up, too, as I pictured him walking along the highway naked from the waist down. But then my expression sobered.
"He could find out my name," I said.
Jamie looked over at me and then back at the highway as he turned off onto the road leading up into the hills.
"He won't bother you." He was quiet for a second. "I'll make sure of it, okay?"
I glanced at him. "Okay." I don't know why I trusted that he would, but I did. Jamie hung with the popular kids, the small group at our high school who lived in Evansly and had parents who were executives at the mines—the rich kids. I didn't know if he'd be considered "rich" by all standards, but by mine, he most definitely was. Our lives were legions apart.