“Nice meeting you, too,” I call as she walks away.
“I’ll pick you up at five on Sunday,” George grumbles before tromping away. When I turn to go, my eyes meet Misty’s and she’s glaring at me. I guess she heard I got an invite to dinner at the McDermott’s house. Perfect! This night is going fabulously.
George avoids me the remainder of the night and when we close, I help Anna count out her till, and she tells me to take it to the office and give it to George and then I can leave. I do as she says, and open the office door without knocking.
My eyes bulge out as Misty snorts a line of coke off the desk while George holds his nose, apparently haven already snorted his own line. When he sees me, he jerks up and Misty follows, turning her back to me as she rubs frantically at her face.
I know my goal is to get close to him—to help him—but I can’t help letting my distaste pour out of my mouth.
“Really, boss?” I question, my tone bearing every bit of my disapproval. George glances to Misty and then back to me, wiping at his nose. It’s the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t look cold. Now he just looks embarrassed. “Here’s Anna’s till. Do I work tomorrow?”
“You wanna do a double? Do you think you can wait tables yet?” he asks, and I can see the humiliation in his eyes.
“I can do it,” I say, jerking my gaze from his. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I toss the money and receipts on his desk and shut the door loudly.
“What a bitch,” I hear Misty grumble through the door. I can’t help standing there a moment and listening. “She was talking to herself all night. What a fucking weirdo.” Rolling my eyes, I stomp away.
“I am so glad that happened. He looked so ashamed,” Ike cheers.
“Doesn’t mean he’ll stop,” I whisper. I quickly grab my belongings and my leftover burger I didn’t finish on my break and march out of the kitchen.
“Night, lass. I’d be glad to accompany you home if you’d like,” Sniper purrs as he gives me a flirtatious wink and I roll my eyes.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass. Night, Sniper,” I call out.
As soon as I’m back in my motel room, I change into my pajamas; a pair of shorts and a tank top, and plop down on my bed. Opening the Styrofoam box my leftover lunch is in, I stuff a few cold fries in my mouth. “Wanna watch TV?” I ask Ike as I chew, whom is seated in the armchair.
“Whatever you want.” He shrugs.
“So what’s the deal with the sexy, foreign BFF?” I ask.
“First off, guys don’t say BFF.” He chuckles lightly. “We were in Afghanistan together. I promised him a job when we got back. George kept my promise for me,” Ike sighs and rubs his head as I find he always does when his mind is heavy in thought.
“He seems . . . interesting,” I add.
“You mean hot?” Ike snorts.
Chewing the bit of burger I just bit off, I mumble around the food in my mouth, “I mean, yeah, he is, but I mean, he’s just . . . different.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, let me just say, he’s been with quite a few ladies, so if I were you I’d steer clear.”
“Thanks for the warning, because I was totally planning on banging him,” I reply dryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“You can sit by me, ya know? I know you won’t try anything.” I pat the spot next to me.
He snorts and stands before catapulting on the bed, causing me to jerk in surprise. Just before he would land on me, he morphs and is on the bed beside me. I giggle like a little school girl and hate myself for it.
“That’s a beautiful sound.” Ike smiles at me, his brown eyes sparkling bright.
“Me laughing like an idiot?” I ask as I flip on the television with the remote.
He lies back and puts his hands under his head, staring at the television. “When my grandparents were alive, they had this carport attached to their house and my grandmother had, like, twenty wind chimes hanging out there. I think that’s my favorite sound in the world. It’s so light and whimsical. Feels like home.” He looks at me, his dark eyes lit with warmth. “Your laugh makes me think of them. Of those wind chimes.”
As our gazes remain locked, I have to swallow. That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Let alone, by a man. Of course, the first one that does is dead. And with that thought, I tear my eyes away. I cannot get attached to Ike. He will leave soon and another will take his place. Another soul needing help so they can crossover.
“With lines like that, I bet you were getting ladies left and right when you were alive,” I jest to break the awkwardness of the moment. Suddenly he sits up, his tags tinkling under his shirt. “What?” I practically jump out of my skin with his jerky movement.
Ike disappears and then materializes moments later. “George is outside your door,” he says, softly, as he stands by me where I sit on the bed, arms crossed.
“What?” I whisper-yell, but before he can respond, three loud knocks bang on the door.
“He’s drunk.” Ike’s jaw tics in anger.
“Is he dangerous?”