Life of the Party (Wayward #1)

CHAPTER 18

I was crushed. There’s no other way to describe it. I cried myself hoarse in that mean, lonely little room, and then, since I had no other choice, forced myself to walk back through the VIP section. Rigid with humiliation and convinced everyone was staring at my puffy red eyes and mascara-streaked face, I nearly ran from the club, stumbling my way home in utter disgrace and rejection. I climbed into my bed without even washing my face or changing my clothes. The evening’s events were fresh in my mind. The moment I shut my eyes I saw Grey’s beautiful face, his blue eyes hard, his lips sneering at me cruelly.

I curled up on my side, tight in the blankets, and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, when I awoke and was immediately bombarded again by the memory—the horrific, tragic ending to my night—the wave of sadness actually made me…angry. Offended, infuriated. Hurt and resentful. All day I hid out in my room, blaming my absence from hanging with the family on the clever guise of studying for final exams. I didn’t open a book, mostly laid on my bed, stared at my roof, listened to angry music and wished for a cigarette. Furious.

Every time I pictured Grey’s face, I hated him a little bit more.

At least, I tried to convince myself I did.

There was no way I could show my face at Charlie’s ever again, and though she called my cell phone multiple times, I didn’t answer. Even though I knew she’d be understanding and sympathetic and possibly even make me feel better, I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk about it; I didn’t want to admit what had happened to anyone. I just wanted to lie on my bed and focus on my anger, trying to hate Grey enough to totally forget about him, trying to persuade myself I was much better off .

There was only one week of official classes left before finals. The next day, everyone at school was abuzz with last-days preparation; all our classes were devoted to diploma exams. I sat silently at my desk, hating everyone around me and wishing I didn’t have to be at stupid school. But what else would I be doing?

I didn’t really have any friends anymore.

Ben, Toby and Jessie were officially MIA, but I couldn’t blame them. I’d ditched them first—I always knew where to find the guys, but I just hadn’t bothered. Too busy with my other, more exciting plans.

Riley was in a few of my classes, and though I’d planned to confront him about the whole moving-away-forever thing, I was just too drained. We acknowledged each other once, in third period, when he had to walk down my aisle to return to his seat. He met my eyes, and we nodded at each other. I wondered when, no—if, he was planning to tell me about the move. He and the Christian were inseparable; I saw them everywhere together, not just at lunchtime meetings. She had taken my place in the passenger seat of Riley’s car.

It was pretty hard not to wallow in self-pity. In a few short weeks, I’d managed to lose all my friends and get a broken heart in the process.

I walked to the Red Wheat after school, my arms crossed, dragging my feet.

Charlie was expecting me as I entered the quiet restaurant. There was one table of two up in the first section, but otherwise the seats were empty. It was only four-thirty, still too early for supper rush.

“Hey, babe. How you doing?” Charlie greeted me. She looked me over and, with that one glance, seemed to understand that something was wrong. A sympathetic smile crossed her face. Her blonde hair had been straightened and shone down to her shoulders; her frilly white dress looked lovely. I shrugged. I knew I looked terrible; I hadn’t the energy or the motivation to do anything with myself that morning. My dark curls hung limply down my back, and I wore virtually no makeup.

“Come with me.” She took me by the shoulders and gently ushered me towards the washroom. I allowed her to; I didn’t care. The rubber stopper held the bathroom door so we could still see out front. We stood before the mirror; Charlie threw my hair up and deftly twisted it into some kind of knot. A little mascara from her purse and some deep red lipstick made a huge difference in my appearance .

“Thanks, Charlie. What would I do without you?” I wondered, more to myself than to her. She was truly my only friend at the moment. I felt guilty for ignoring her calls the day before.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Charlie asked.

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t. Grey wouldn’t talk about it. All I know is you two went into that room, and then Grey comes out by himself, looking totally stressed. Then you come out, like, almost an hour later, obviously bawling. You run by without even telling me you’re leaving, and Grey’s standing there, watching you, like this.” She clenched her fists in demonstration. “Did you guys have a fight or what?”

“No, not a fight.” I shut my eyes at the memory. “I told him I loved him. It was stupid, I know, and then…” I scoffed. “Let’s just say he didn’t share the sentiment.”

Charlie looked mystified. “How can that be? Mackenzie, the way he looks at you…”

I shook my head regretfully. “Whatever. It’s over. Just forget about it.”

Charlie fixed my cardigan and stood back to survey my outfit, another one of Mom’s purchases, a short khaki skirt and white top. I wore plain white sneakers as well. “You’re right. If he’s too stupid to see it, Mackenzie, you’re much better off.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. I’d told myself that same thing hundreds of times in the last twenty-four hours. So why couldn’t I believe it?

The fact I couldn’t only made me madder.

“Let’s just get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about the rest later. Here…don’t take too much, just enough to help.” She handed me the little silver vial she kept in her purse and looked cautiously out the door. “Coast is clear. Go ahead.”

Eagerly I unscrewed the lid and scooped up the white powder, inhaling deeply until I could feel the sweet burn hit my sinuses. I sniffed loudly and did another. It wasn’t long before the racking pain and anger faded, but still, it did not cease. I felt better though, like I could handle it now. I felt confident. In control. Like maybe I didn’t need Grey, like maybe I didn’t even care.

Then I turned the corner at the waitress station, and I saw him. Grey. He was there, working; I could see his handsome face behind the line.

Panicked, I gasped, hiding behind the wall so he couldn’t see me. “Charlie!” I whisper-hissed at my friend. “What the hell is he doing here? He’s not supposed to be working today.”

She glanced at Grey. “He’s covering for Riley now, remember?”

“Oh shit, that’s right.” I groaned. “I totally forgot. ”

“I know it sucks, Mac. Just ignore him. Just do your job and ignore him, okay?” Charlie looked towards the entrance at an incoming couple. “You can start now. Go seat that table.” She handed me two menus and gave me a reassuring pat. “We’ll get through this, Mac. Just ignore him.”

That turned out to be easier than expected. By the time I sat the first table, another four had taken their place at the entry. Charlie, Sophie and I were slammed within minutes; in half an hour, every seat was full, and a lineup had begun at the door. This was unexpected for a Monday night, and we were nearly run off our feet.

Luckily, I was kept busy enough I couldn’t worry about Grey except when I needed an order. We didn’t say one word to each other; he kept his head down most of the time anyway—the kitchen staff were hard-pressed to keep up with the rush. Dishes piled up in the pit, the salad dressings were out, and we ran out of soup before seven o’clock. Orders kept coming in; there were tables to wipe, coffees to refill, plates to clear. We could barely hear ourselves over the general restaurant din and the clamour of the busy kitchen.

That’s when I first met Roger. I was in the waitress station, multitasking, refilling Pepsi and getting a piece of pie out of the fridge when the door to the kitchen opened and a tall, heavy, older man emerged. He was balding, with thin white hair; his face deeply wrinkled, his thick lips revealing perfect white teeth. He wore a collared shirt and dress pants and smelled like expensive aftershave.

I looked up at him curiously. “Hello.”

“Hello.” He greeted me politely, but his eyes worked me over, from the top of my head down to the toes of my shoes, then up again. His eyebrows rose. I wondered what that meant, but was too busy to really care. I squeezed some whipped cream onto the pie and placed a fork on its dish.

“You must be Mackenzie.” He was staring at me.

“Yes.” I was trying to be polite, but I couldn’t remember if I’d taken table thirteen ketchup or not. I grabbed a bottle anyway, just in case.

“I’m Roger.” He introduced, holding out his hand. Surprised, I looked up at him, suddenly realizing this man was my boss.

“Oh, hi.” I floundered, setting down the ketchup so I could shake his hand. “I’m sorry, we’ve just been really busy. I didn’t realize…”

“Please, go ahead; I just wanted to introduce myself.”

I smiled at him, whizzing by, my hands full—Sophie’s number one rule of efficient waitressing. There was always something to grab and take or clean and refill, and I bustled around the restaurant doing exactly that.

By the time I made it back to the waitress area, Roger was gone.

The supper rush didn’t last all night, but it remained steady. We spent the rest of the evening trying to get caught up. Charlie and I each took a turn in the bathroom with her little silver vial, a little pick-me-up, to help us keep going.

About an hour from close, a table of ten came in without a reservation. We grumbled, pushing tables together for them. There was nothing worse than a big table so late after such a busy night. I made Charlie break the news to the kitchen; I wasn’t in the mood to get sworn at.

To make matters worse, I had to wait on the table, and all of them were guys from my school. The majority of them were from my grade. They were cowboys. Farm boys. All of them. I knew our parking lot would be full of their diesel trucks, large and loud, ATVs strapped in the box, mud-splattered along the sides. The talk around the table was all ranch-hand work stories and rodeo cabarets.

Awkwardly, I handed out their menus, exchanged polite hellos, refilled their cokes with alarming regularity and served them all greasy cheeseburgers and french fries.

When they were done, I placed the black check holder in the middle of their table. One of the boys, Brad, looked up at me and smiled cleverly.

“Uh, we didn’t order that.” He quipped, pointing at the check.

“Oh? It comes free with every meal.” I smiled sweetly at him. His friends around the table cracked up at my little joke, and Brad laughed in surprise. He was still grinning at me when I left the table, trouncing over to shut the OPEN sign off. The one and only plus to waiting on a big group was the chance of a big tip, but I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. These were high school boys, after all.

Brad personally brought me the check holder when they were ready to go. I shoved the folder into the front pocket of my apron. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Brad smiled, his face soft as he looked me over. “So, tell me, Mackenzie, why don’t we hang out more?” He broached.

I laughed at him. “…Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” I cleared my throat, trying to be polite. “I guess it’s just ‘cause we…hang in different crowds.” I shrugged.

“I think we should fix that. Don’t you?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t really see how. Unless you start growing weed in your fields or something.” I smiled at my ridiculous suggestion .

Brad leaned a hand against the wall, grinning widely at me. “See. Right there. You have the most adorable smile. Did you know that?”

I felt my cheeks warm. “Oh, you’re just saying that.”

“I am?” He chuckled. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Maybe you’re still in awe of my amazing service.”

“Trust me, Mackenzie,” Brad leaned towards me then, his voice dropping seriously. “The service wasn’t that good.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed and laughed, looking up at Brad in amazement, startled to find he had an actual personality. He laughed with me, his odd, amber-coloured eyes twinkling handsomely, his wide smile becoming on his face.

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” I giggled.

“There it is again. That smile.” Brad sighed. He glanced back at his friends waiting impatiently by the front door. “I should go. You and me, we’ll hang out soon, okay?”

“Um…” I bit my lip, not sure what to say.

“Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“Okay. Yes.” I nodded, and found myself smiling again.

His answering grin flashed charmingly across his face. I watched him go, amazed. What was happening to me? Was I really desperate enough for a friend to consider fraternizing with a cowboy? I shook my head as I rang up the bill, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. Maybe I was going crazy or something, but it seemed like there was more to Brad than just Wrangler jeans and Roper boots. I watched his truck pull out of the parking lot and felt an odd, inexplicable surge of hope.

Charlie met me in the waitress area, handing me my tip on her way by—a crisp, twenty-dollar bill. She smiled in disbelief. “What did you do for those guys, a lap dance or something?”

“Something like that.” I joked in amazement. I honestly had no idea. Maybe my service wasn’t as bad as Brad said it was, maybe my sudden wit had won him over, or maybe…he liked me. I took the bill and stuffed it into my tip cup, nearly overflowing from the busy evening.

“Good night?” Roger appeared again from the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. He smiled nicely at me. “Looks like it.” He peered over at my tips, his breath boozy.

“Yeah. I hope so.” I nodded. “It was busy enough.”

“You girls did great. ”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him again but felt uncomfortable just standing there. He was my boss, after all; I’m sure he wanted me busy. I picked up a cloth and spray bottle and started wiping down the counters. Roger leaned against the station and watched me as I worked. The longer he stood there, the more whiskey I could smell; it overpowered even his nice cologne. I wondered how long he’d been drinking in the back.

“Have you found another cook?” I asked politely, more to fill the awkward silence than to satisfy my curiosity. I didn’t like thinking about Riley being replaced.

“Some promising applicants, anyway.” Roger sighed. “Good staff are hard to find.”

He pushed away from the counter and took a few casual steps towards me. I moved to the opposite side of the station to get out of his way, repositioning against the counter by the order window. The kitchen staff were busy in the back, recovering from the rush. Grey was at the line on the other side of the window—horribly close to me—I could hear him cleaning the steam table. I could see the back of his neck as he bent over his work. I tried not to stare; I didn’t want him to catch me.

It’d be so much easier if I could just ignore him.

I busied myself with organizing the countertops, stacking up the soup bowls, putting the coffee cups away. Roger was still in the station, standing by the fridge, his eyes on me. It was getting awkward…I couldn’t tell if he was there for a reason or just drunk and oblivious. I hoped he wasn’t critiquing my cleaning skills. I was in a rush to get done so we could leave.

“Do you like it here?” Roger asked suddenly. He staggered forward and met me at the counter, his belly pushing up against my side. Startled, I looked up at him. His face was disturbingly close. He smiled down at me, the whiskey on his breath strong, sour. I moved discreetly away from him so our bodies weren’t touching anymore.

“Yeah. It’s been great.” I spoke with false enthusiasm. This was getting weird. Where the hell was Charlie? I refilled the coffee container, moving further away.

“It’s important that the staff are friendly.” Roger smiled crookedly, moving closer as he spoke. His voice lowered until he was nearly whispering in my ear. He lifted his arm and reached around my back, resting his hand on the side of my rib cage.

The moment I felt the hot contact of his hand, I froze. His touch was heavy on my side, his thick fingers sticking to my shirt.

I kept my eyes down, staring blankly at the countertop, not daring to move.

This man was my boss. What did he want ?

“You let me know if anyone gives you any trouble.” His breath was hot against my neck. I shuddered as his hand moved from my ribs, sliding slowly down my waist, his fingers kneading my hip. I didn’t know what to do. I stood there, frozen, hoping he’d be done soon, thinking if I ignored him long enough, someone would eventually distract him, that he’d stop when I didn’t respond.

I was wrong. With a chuckle, he kept going, sweeping his hand further down, cupping my butt in a playful slap. I jerked at the touch, a surprised gasp escaping my lips, my eyes whipping upwards in shock.

I found myself staring directly at Grey, his face on the other side of the window.

He must have been watching—his expression was hard, his jaw clenched, his lips tight. His eyes swept my face, his gaze furious as it settled on Roger’s drunken leer.

“Roger,” Grey warned. His voice was low and threatening.

“Oh, hey, Grey.” Roger smiled innocently at his employee, completely casual, like he hadn’t just slapped my ass. I could feel my face burning red. Roger chuckled and began to whistle, stumbling past me on his way to the front.

I let out a shaky sigh of relief once the heavy man was out of my space.

Grey was looking at me now. Hesitantly, I lifted my eyes to him. I didn’t know what to expect, how I should feel, how I should act. His blue eyes were beautiful, but his expression was impossible to read. A frown curved his lips.

“You okay?” He spoke like he regretted having to ask the question.

I couldn’t answer him with my voice; I nodded my head instead.

“Okay.” He bent back down over his work.

The encounter shook me. I hid out in the waitress area until Charlie came, telling her the whole story, speaking in a hushed voice so Roger couldn’t hear me.

“I’ll break his fucking hand if he does that again.” She promised me, surprisingly vehement. No stranger to the lewd behaviour of men.

We finished our work and counted out our tips without any further incidents, though Roger chose a premium spot at the tables to watch us. I hadn’t realized our boss was such a creep. I was thankful he stayed away from work as much as he did.

Grey ignored me the rest of the night; he didn’t even look my way again. He obviously didn’t want to give me the wrong impression, to have me think his feelings changed just because he’d stepped in on my behalf. That’s what his continued silence and utter indifference spoke to me anyway.

And that was fine with me. I couldn’t have cared less. I was better off.