Rebelonging

Chapter 28
After Erika peeled out of the driveway, I slammed the door, stumbled back to bed, and cried myself to sleep. By the time I woke, it was late afternoon.
Lawton aside, the argument with Erika haunted my thoughts. We'd argued before, but never like that. It was my fault. I just knew it. I'd been crabby from the moment she showed up. It was no wonder we'd gotten into a huge, screaming fight.
I pulled out my cell phone and gave her a call. It went straight to voicemail, and I didn't leave a message. When I apologized, I wanted to do it directly.
About Lawton, maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't. But I had no right to snap at her just because she'd given me an honest opinion. And in truth, I loved that poster. She'd made it herself. She'd come all the way down from college just to give it to me.
If anyone was spoiled, it was me.
Heading out the front door to walk Chucky, I stopped short at the sight of my car in the driveway. I vaguely recalled noticing it earlier, but with everything else going on, I hadn't done more than wonder.
After the walk, I got Chucky settled in the house and returned to the driveway alone. Holding my breath, I settled myself into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. It started on the first try.
This had to be Lawton's doing. Other than the busboy who'd given me a ride home, Lawton was the only one who knew about my car troubles.
I turned off the car and dialed Lawton's cell phone.
When he answered, I said, "So, I've got this mysterious car in the driveway."
"Yeah?" he said. "How mysterious?"
"Well, it looks like mine. But apparently, it can drive all by itself."
"Hmm."
"Even when it's broken down."
"Or maybe," he said, "it was just a dead battery."
"Aha!" I said. "You went and got it, didn't you?"
"It depends," he said. "If I did, is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?"
It was definitely a good thing. Without a car, I was hosed. Still, it made me feel a little funny to think of him retrieving my car when we weren't exactly together anymore.
I stalled. "What if it is a good thing?"
"Then it was all me."
"And if it's a bad thing?"
"In that case," he said, "blame Bishop."
"Your brother?" I laughed. "Why him?"
"Because he's already on your list, so I figure, eh, what's the difference?"
"Heeeey," I said, "you're on my list too."
"I know," he said. "And I’m trying like hell to get off it."
"So, that's why you did it?"
"Nope. I'd have done it anyway."
"I've gotta ask," I said, "how'd you do it? It's not like you had my keys."
"Long story," he said.
"Yeah, I just bet," I said. "Still, thanks for the help. Seriously."
"Hey Chloe?"
"Yeah?"
"You might wanna get a new battery."
I winced. "Really?"
"Yeah. The car's starting okay now, but you know how these things go. Vintage cars. They're tricky, right?"
Vintage my ass. Old was more like it. Last winter, my entire exhaust system had gone out piece by expensive piece. But Lawton's car? That truly was vintage, all sleek lines and shiny paint. Well, until last night.
I felt a pang at the image of his once-beautiful car. Here he had gone to a lot of trouble to retrieve my car, a total piece of crap, but he hadn't even mentioned his own. Was it still at the restaurant? Would he be able to fix it?
My voice was quiet as I asked, "How about your car? Is it, uh—"
"It's fine."
"Oh c'mon Lawton," I said, "I know it's not fine. I was there. Remember?"
"Yeah. I remember."
"Why'd you do that?"
"Because," he said, "it needed to be done."
"No, it didn't."
"Yes," he said. "It did."
"Why?"
"Because I meant what I said. For what I did to you, I deserved a good ass-beating. Still do. But somebody wouldn't take me up on it. So that car, it was the closest thing I had."
I thought of all his possessions – the breathtaking mansion he called home, the fleet of late-model vehicles, the clothes, the electronics. The logic made a weird kind of sense. Of everything he owned, the car was probably the only thing that was truly irreplaceable.
Still, it was majorly messed up. Who does that sort of thing?
"You shouldn't have done it," I said.
"You're right," he said. "I shouldn't have done it. But I'm not talking about the car."
I didn't know what to say. My head was swimming. "Speaking of cars," I said, "I've got to leave for work in a little bit, so I'll catch you later, alright?"
"Alright," he said. "We're still on for tomorrow, right?"
"Yup, it's a date."
Oh crap. A date? I didn't know what our plans were, but it seemed far too early, or maybe too late, to be thinking of this as a date.
I heard the smile in his voice. "A date, huh?"
Crap. He'd caught that?
Distracted, I mumbled something about meeting up sometime in the late afternoon, and then disconnected the call.
Lawton did funny things to my brain. And even funnier things to the rest of me. What he did to my heart, well, there was nothing funny about that.
Pushing Lawton out of my thoughts, I picked up my phone again and gave Erika another try. Again, she didn't answer. This time, I couldn't help myself. I left a message, mostly an apology.
But all of that was forgotten, at least temporarily, a couple hours later when I walked into work and checked the schedule.
I found Keith in his office, thumbing through a catalog. I marched up to his desk and looked down. Two girls in micro-bikinis smiled up at me.
"Thinking of getting a two-piece?" I said.
He flapped the catalog shut and shoved it into his top desk drawer. Then he glared up at me and said, "You think you're real funny, don't you?"
"You know what's funny?' I said. "The fact that I'm only scheduled for two nights next week."
"So?"
"So, I usually work five."
He shrugged. "It's a slow time of year. What do you expect?"
"I expect you to live up to your end of the agreement."
"Oh yeah." He smirked. "What agreement is that?"
"You know which one."
"Oh stop griping," he said. "You haven't been fired. Have you?"
"No. But how am I supposed to make any money working only two days?"
"Sorry, not my problem." He glanced at his desk drawer. "Is that all?"
"No." Damn it. I really didn't want to do this. I leaned in close and lowered my voice. "Because you know damn well I could make it your problem."
He looked only mildly interested. "Really? How so?"
"Oh for Pete's sake, do I really need to spell this out?"
"I'm all ears," he said.
"Fine. That little picture of you and Brittney? I bet the district manager would just love to see it."
He nodded. "Yep. I bet he would." He put on a sad face. "Except they won't. How sad for them."
"What do you mean?"
He gave me an oily grin. "Rumor has it, that cell phone of yours? Big memory problems. Missing pictures, wrong data. Oh well, that's the breaks, huh?" He made a shooing motion toward the door. "Back to work now."
Damn it.
I glared at him. "You broke into my locker. Didn't you?"
"Me? Why would I do that?"
"To delete that picture, that's why."
"Sounds like somebody's a little paranoid," he said.
This time, I was the one smiling. "You know what? You're right. I am."
His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"Yeah. Totally. That's why I texted that nice little picture to a friend of mine before it disappeared from my phone." I put on my own sad face. "Awwww. How sad for you."
His gaze narrowed. "You're bluffing."
"You sure about that?" I crossed my arms. "So. About that schedule?"
"Oh alright," he muttered. "I'll change it before your shift is done."
"Good. Because I'll be checking."
"But just so you know, it's not because you threatened me. It's because –" suddenly, his face brightened "—because you deserve this."
I squinted at him. That weasel was up to something. I just knew it. "When you change it," I said, "remember to give me more days, not less."
"Not a problem," he said.
Damn it. He still looked too happy. "Five days," I said. "Not three, not four. Alright?"
"Yup. Got it." He glanced toward his office door. "So, you gonna be waitressing any time soon?"
Wordlessly, I turned around and marched toward the door. Just before I got there, I stopped and turned around. "And none of those two-hour shifts either. I want full shifts, like I usually get."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, reaching into his top drawer for the catalog. "Shut the door, will ya? I got work to do."
Two hours into my shift, I still hadn't figured out his angle. I knew how Keith worked. He'd find some loophole, and I'd be screwed.
Thank God I hadn't been lying. I had texted the picture to Erika. But between our argument and everything else going on, I never confirmed she still had it.
She wouldn’t delete it, would she?
I was still mulling this over when I hustled toward my next table and was hit by another unwelcome surprise.
Skank. Party of one.