Life of the Party (Wayward #1)

CHAPTER 49

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I smiled at Grey in the mirror, looking over my shoulder, his blue eyes watching me as his lips pressed against my neck. I groaned and leaned back against him.

“I have to go to work.” I sighed. “Not all of us can be rock stars, you know.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Some rock star. I doubt there’s ever been a rock star in history as broke as me.”

“Maybe not.” I shrugged, encouragingly. “But you won’t be for long.”

“Yeah,” Grey mumbled, bending to kiss me again. I felt his pain. I was seriously strapped for cash. All our money had gone to the weekend…the perfect, blissfully high weekend that went by all too fast, eating up the rest of my tip money and whatever cash Grey had in the bank. I didn’t want to go to work, not at all, but I had to make some tips or we’d be SOL for the evening’s habits.

Grey insisted we slow down the heroin use since that was basically all we’d done the last few days. I was settling for cocaine, but it was way more expensive than heroin, and would probably take up whatever tips I made that night. I bit my lip in thought. I really needed more money.

My rent was coming up soon, but I didn’t want to think about that.

“You look really pretty.” He pushed my dark hair back from my face and smirked at me in the mirror. “Isn’t this skirt a little…short, though?”

Grey hadn’t been around to witness the transformation of my wardrobe—my necklines getting lower, my skirts shorter, my heels higher. That night, I was wearing a tiny lace miniskirt and a tight white sweater with a plunging neckline. I chose it so the long sleeves to hide the sickly yellow bruise that stained my arm .

“You’ll see when I get home tonight the difference this makes tip-wise.”

“I bet.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t know if I should let you out of the house like this. I don’t like the thought of other guys looking at you.”

I smiled and turned around in his arms, looking up into his gorgeous face. “So what if they look. You’re the only one that gets to touch.” I promised.

That brought the smile back to his eyes. He smirked again and then pulled me up to him, crushing me against his lips.

Charlie found us in this sweet embrace. She cleared her throat impatiently and rapped on my opened bedroom door.

“Comin’ Mac? We’re going to be late.”

“Yeah.” Regretfully, I pulled myself away from him. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be over at my house. Come by when you’re done.”

“Okay.” I kissed him again; I just couldn’t help myself.

“How was your weekend?” I asked my friend once we were seated in her car, smoking with the windows cracked only slightly. It was already cold out, and the days were getting colder. I shivered. I was not looking forward to winter.

“It was okay,” Charlie shrugged. “Courtney and I hung out. Did some H. You?”

“About the same.” I downplayed how awesome it had really been, flicking my cigarette, trying not to ash on myself. “You really like heroin, don’t you?”

“I do.” She admitted.

“Me too.” I exhaled a big waft of smoke. “I just wish it weren’t so, you know…addictive. Grey says we can’t do any more for a while, that we should save it for special occasions.”

“That’s probably smart.” Charlie nodded begrudgingly. “But I don’t know if it’s really that bad. I mean, I’m definitely not addicted yet.”

“Me either.” I agreed, but I wondered if that was really true. I didn’t tell Charlie how heroin was my first thought when I woke up, how all morning I’d nearly paced, nervous, desperate, knowing I wasn’t going to get any more for a while.

I shook the topic from my mind. Just thinking about it brought back the craving.

We made it to the restaurant in record time. I was a bit apprehensive about work—I wondered what kind of reception I’d get after ditching my last shift. Charlie had skipped work too, but she’d called in sick with Mark so she was probably off the hook. We walked into the quiet restaurant, calm before the inevitable rush, and went to hang up our coats in the waitress station .

There were already purses and jackets hanging there, taking up the hooks.

We eyed each other curiously as Stacy and Mallory, two part-time girls, came floating in from the top section. They laughed and joked as they returned to the station. Stacy had a bucket full of creamers in her hand, and Mallory carried an empty tray, like they were getting ready to work our shift.

“What are you girls doing here?” Charlie wondered. “Did the schedule change?”

Stacy shrugged, looking just as surprised to see us as we were to see her. “I don’t know. Roger just called me and asked me to work.”

“Yeah, me too.” Mallory nodded. “Why, were you supposed to?”

“We always do.” Charlie’s voice was a little snippy. I bit my lip. I didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t seem good. Especially if Roger was involved.

The girls just stared at us, wide-eyed and unsure. Charlie sighed and shook her head at them, flipping her wild blonde curls behind her shoulder.

“Whatever. We’ll go talk to someone and get this straightened out.”

“You can talk to me.” Roger strode through the swinging door from the kitchen; his arms crossed against his burly chest, his white eyebrows raised with disapproval. “Let’s have a word, girls, if you don’t mind?”

We filed into his office—it was messy with papers and orders and large silver canisters of Pepsi, smelling vaguely like booze as we stood, waiting while Roger closed the door behind him and walked through the clutter to sit at his desk.

“You’ve probably figured this out, but both of you are fired.” He stated evenly.

My mouth dropped in surprise. I looked up at Charlie in horror, following her lead, not knowing what to do or say to get us out of the situation.

She stared at Roger a moment, her brow furrowing. “Why is that?”

Roger scoffed like the answer was glaringly obvious. “Where should I start? You’re late, you drop things. You’re completely negligent—both of you. The customers have been complaining. And the way you’re dressing lately…not that I mind, but this is a family restaurant.”

“Couldn’t you just like, give us a warning or something?” Charlie negotiated.

“Maybe I could’ve. If you hadn’t cut work all last week, and if you…” he looked straight at me, making me gulp, “…hadn’t blown off your shift on Friday.”

“I was sick.” Charlie insisted. “So was she.”

“Yeah, right, with what? Cocaine?” Roger scoffed again, his pudgy face leering. “I’m not an idiot, Charlotte. I know what you girls do around here, and I know you were out at the Aurora almost every night last week. Sick? That’s insulting. ”

Oh no. I bit my lip, closing my eyes as the situation really sank in.

This wasn’t happening. I had enough money troubles already without losing my job. No, I needed my job. I needed the tips, I needed the money. I needed to get high tonight, as soon as work was over. I needed cigarettes and alcohol and I needed to pay my rent. If Charlie and I were evicted, I’d be forced to move back in with my parents. I cringed at the thought. No, I couldn’t lose my job. I made too much money at it. There was nothing else I knew of in a town this small that could compare.

“Please, Roger.” My voice seemed quiet and shaky after Charlie’s confidence. I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “What if we promised to be better? You know how well we work together, how good we can be. Most of the customers like us. Please? I can’t lose this job.”

Something about my plea sparked an idea in Roger’s mind. He sat, considering my words, his chair groaning as he leaned back. When he looked up again, there was a strange glint in his green eyes, like an evil thought had occurred there.

“You’re desperate to keep your job, then?”

“I’d like to, yes,” I admitted.

“Yes.” Charlie agreed.

“Okay, fine. You can both keep your jobs.”

A smile spread across Charlie’s face. She looked over at me with happy surprise.

“Oh, thanks, Roger. That’s great—”

“On one condition.” He continued, interrupting her. Charlie stopped mid-sentence and waited, glancing at me again, cautiously this time.

“What is that?”

Roger’s smile was sardonic. “Lock the door.” He ordered.

“What? Why?”

“I take care of you…” He shrugged. “…You take care of me.”

He jingled his belt buckle.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant by that. I actually gasped.

Charlie got it faster than I did. Her face froze in anger and disgust.

“Fuck you.” She spat. “Never.”

“It’s your job.” Roger turned to me repugnantly. “Mackenzie?”

I was at a loss. I needed my job; I needed it badly. What was I going to do without any money? The panic rose in my chest again as I realized we’d have to go without that night—no heroin, no cocaine, no weed even. No nothing .

I bit my lip. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would be quick. And besides, if I had the money, I could get the drugs, and if I had the drugs, I could forget about…it…later.

“Mackenzie!” Charlie glared at me in horror. “We are leaving. Now!” She grasped my arm and slammed the door open, pulling me from Roger’s office and out the back door. My cheeks flushed scarlet, the blood pounding in my head.

“What the fuck was that?” Charlie demanded angrily, wrapping her arms around herself as we stumbled to her car. “Were you actually considering it!?”

“No! No!” I lied, shaking my head—furious, desperate. I couldn’t believe what happened. I couldn’t believe I’d actually considered it, even for a moment. So much for being pure. By the time we reached her car, my tears were blinding me, I felt so ashamed.

“Fuck, Charlie!” I screamed. People on the street turned to stare at me, but I didn’t care. I slammed my fist into the hood of her car. “I can’t believe I just lost my job!”

She was wide-eyed, watching me. “It’s okay, Mac. You’ll get another one.”

My breath was frosty in the dimming light. “What do I do now? I need money now!”

Charlie shook her head. “Get in the car, Mackenzie.”

I obeyed, only because the cold was starting to numb my fingertips. It felt like it could snow any moment. I rubbed my hands together to warm them as Charlie started the car, and we sat in silence for a moment, letting the engine warm up. I reached for a cigarette, vexed when I realized my pack was almost empty.

I had no money for more.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed again.

“Okay, Mac. Calm down.”

I took a breath, shutting my eyes, trying not to panic. “What am I going to do?”

“How much do you need?”

“I don’t know. Enough for the week. And for rent and stuff, next week.”

“You mean, you don’t have anything?”

“No,” I muttered sheepishly. “I spent it all last weekend.”

“What about Grey?”

“Nothing. Not until they start doing gigs again.” I shrugged.

“Okay…what about your parents?”

I cringed, instantly rejecting the thought. I could picture their faces when I asked them for money; how my dad would gloat: I knew you couldn’t do it on your own.

I shook my head again, resolved. “I can’t ask them. ”

“Oh, okay, so you almost went down on that guy for money, but you can’t ask your parents for some?”

I glared at her. “I did not almost—”

“Whatever. Mackenzie, don’t be an idiot. Ask your parents.”

I sighed. Loud and long. I did need money. I became more desperate for it as the agitated minutes passed by. “Fine.” I relented angrily, irritated. “Fine, I’ll ask them. Will you drive me there?”

“Of course.” Charlie threw the car in reverse and backed out of the stall. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

My answer was a grumble.

When Charlie pulled up at my parents’ house it was empty, vacant—I could already tell. It had a hollow, dark feel to it…something I was all too familiar with. Something I’d come home to regularly. No one inside. No one expected anytime soon.

“They’re not even home.” I sighed.

“Well, you can call them later,” Charlie suggested. “I’ll drive you again.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

Just as she was about to pull away, I stopped her.

“Wait.” My parents still had my things from Marcy’s wedding. This was the perfect time to get them, with no one around. “I’ll be right back.”

I ran up the drive, pounded my code into the keypad and opened the door. I hadn’t been home in months, but I didn’t waste any time looking around. The bag full of my stuff was in the front entry, right where Mom said it would be.

As I slung the bag over my shoulder, something else caught my eye.

It was my mom’s purse, hanging over the Deacon’s bench perched against the wall. The flap had come open, the contents inside bulging out.

I didn’t even think twice. There wasn’t even a whisper from my conscience that what I was doing was bad. Unthinkable, until now. I opened up her purse and took what I knew would be inside. A neat green roll of twenties, a few red fifties tucked in.

Why my mom always insisted on carrying so much cash was beyond me, but at the moment, I was thankful for her odd little habit. I stuffed the money into my pocket—there must have been at least three-hundred dollars there—and felt instantly better.

I ran back to the car after locking up the house, a broad smile of relief on my face. Charlie noticed the change in my attitude immediately.

“Find what you were looking for?” She wondered curiously.

“You could say that.” I grinned.