Chapter 15
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.