Wild as Her (Beckett Family #2)

Chapter 2

Indie

A nother Friday night, another small crowd gathered in The Cozy Cup.

This last week has been hell. I was able to find a job at the local pet store and felt like things were finally looking up a little for me. I should have known better than to think that, though. When life hands you lemons, it likes to squeeze them in your damn eye.

Case in point: last night, my roommates informed me they were both moving to be closer to their school and jobs. I don’t blame them; I’d hate making that drive every day. But why the hell they waited until the last minute to inform me that they were thinking about this is beyond me.

Finishing up my final song—one I wrote last week after seeing Wild outside of this shop—I smile out to the crowd and place my guitar in the black hardshell case.

“I’ll never get over how talented you are, Indie,” the waitress, Wren, says, coming over to me with a cup of coffee in her hands. “Here, for you again.” She pushes the cup into my hands and points over her shoulder. “Same guy from last week. He must really like you.”

I peek around her and see the same man from last time sitting at the bar. With a raised cup of coffee, he lifts the corner of his lip into a slimy smirk and gestures for me to come over to him.

Like hell.

“Can you take this back and tell him I said no thanks ?”

Her mouth falls open, and she appears caught off guard. “Oh, uh… sure, no problem.” She grabs the cup from me.

“From now on, only I buy myself drinks. If anyone tries, you just tell them I politely decline.” I grab my case from the floor and step off of the small platform.

She nods her head in understanding. “Of course. That won’t be a problem at all. Have a good night, Indie.” She walks to the counter and places the cup in front of the man, explaining my rejection. His face falls as he turns back to face me. I smile and pretend to get a notification on my phone.

He angrily stands, throws some cash on the countertop, and walks out the front door into the night like a sulking two-year-old who didn’t get their way.

“He wasn’t too happy about that,” Wren laughs as I come up to the vacant counter.

“Can’t win ‘em all,” I shrug.

Taking a seat at the counter, I order myself a coffee. Wren spends a few minutes with me chatting while I sip the hot drink down. I really think this girl could keep a conversation going with a fly on the wall. Words are something she never seems to run out of. The only reason she stops talking is to help some new customers who walk in and stand at the opposite end of the counter, examining the menu on the wall.

After inhaling the coffee, I wave to Wren, who is in the back kitchen area putting together the order for the customers, and then I proceed to walk out the glass door.

Walking home every night isn’t something I much care for, but when funds are tight, I do everything possible to save money—even though the walk down these dark, dimly lit roads isn’t my favorite. I really should complain to someone about getting more street lights in this part of town. Crime isn’t something we have a lot of here in Alokin Falls, but with my dumb luck, I know it would happen to me if anyone.

A car slowly passes by me as I make my trip home, splashing the large puddle on the side of the road and soaking my lower half.

“Son of a bitch,” I hiss to myself, seeing the mud splattered across my clothes and shoes.

I swear to God, it never ends.

As I continue to walk up the steep hill, my mind races. Every single time I solve one problem, here comes another. I find a job and think I’m in the clear, but no, now I need to find a new place to live.

The house I’ve been at the last few years isn’t great, so it’s not like I’m going to miss the place. But it was conveniently within walking distance of The Cozy Cup. There’s no way I could afford it on my own, though, and I really don’t want to live with a bunch of strangers.

The girls I’ve been living with weren’t necessarily strangers, but I’d call them more acquaintances than friends. Friends are not something I’ve ever been good at getting or keeping.

I’ve known these two girls since our senior year of high school, but we aren’t close. We don’t hang out on days off or anything like that. I have their phone numbers, but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually used them.

While thoughts of my current predicament run through my mind, an eerie feeling crawls up my spine, and I instantly become more alert and aware of my surroundings.

Someone’s watching me.

I subtly glance behind me and spot a car with its headlights off creeping up the road. When they notice they’ve been seen, their lights turn on, and they begin to move faster toward me.

My heartbeat increases as I quicken my pace and turn down the next street. Crouching down, I hide behind an old blue car parked on the curb. Thankfully, it’s dark enough that they shouldn’t see me here.

Headlights flash through the window above me as the car turns onto the street. Ducking down even lower, I try to stay out of view the best I can.

A minute passes before I slowly stand and see the car stopped at the end of the street, blinker on. After they turn, I quickly make my way back to my street and proceed on my route home, keeping one eye over my shoulder the entire time.

I don’t know who that was, but something didn’t feel right.

I’m probably imagining things, and the car just happened to be going the same way. Why would someone be following me? It’s not like I have anything anyone else would want—unless they are in the market for some really old-ass shoes or an even older guitar.

No matter how hard I try to convince myself it was just a coincidence, I can’t help but feel I’m not wrong on this.

The light clapping comes to a stop, and I walk down the two steps, exiting the small stage.

Last week, after being followed, I debated about not coming in to perform tonight. Maybe taking a break from this place for a while until whoever that person was lost interest or thought I wouldn’t be playing here anymore. But then I had a reality check when I opened my bank account after paying some bills. The balance quickly reminded me of my current financial and living situations, and I knew I needed all the extra income I could get.

When I left my house this evening, the landlord was sure to be loud about her disapproval that I still hadn’t moved out like my roommates had. But they had notice… They knew they would be moving and had time to get things lined up. I was blindsided and hadn’t found a place to go yet.

Finding a roommate that wasn’t half crazy was hard. The last ad I answered seemed like it was going to be the perfect fit; the girl was hardly home, and the rent was affordable. But when I walked inside the apartment and saw the living room was a damn terrarium, I immediately turned around without another word.

Call me rude, but kiss my ass if you think I’m going to be living with a bunch of disgusting spiders and whatever the hell else she had in there. Last I checked, it doesn’t say Steve Erwin II across my forehead.

The house I’m currently in is pretty empty now since my roommates owned all of the furniture and just about everything besides my clothes. The bitches didn’t even leave the mac and cheese so I would have something to eat.

Glancing up in the tiny bathroom mirror as I wash my hands, I notice the dark circles under my eyes that are getting darker and darker every day. Tears line my lids as I dry my hands, and I quickly swipe them away.

I don’t fucking cry. What good does it do?

“Suck it up, and get shit done, Ind,” I mumble to myself.

I’m just overwhelmed and tired. A good night’s sleep and maybe a partner to roll around with tonight will get my head back in the game. There’s nothing a good O can’t fix.

Images of a messy blonde-haired man with muscles for days flash in my mind.

“Hell. NO ,” I chastise myself, tossing the wadded-up brown paper towel into the trash can.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I need to stop thinking about sex—especially with that man—and try to think of a place to stay.

If I call my dad, I know he’d send me money or even offer to let me come live with him for as long as I need. But I’m an adult, and my poor dad shouldn’t have to care for me anymore. He raised me for eighteen years—he served his time, and he deserves a break now. Besides, I’ve been on my own this long; I’m not going back home now.

Tears fill my eyes again as I think about my dad, who I miss so much it makes my chest ache. I haven’t seen him in almost a year. It’s always been me and him. My mom died the day I was born—leaving us to figure out this thing called life on our own.

The memories and emotions overtake me, and I break down into a sobbing mess in the coffee shop bathroom just as the door creaks open.

“Oh, sweetie! Come here.” Wren’s voice fills my ears as I’m pulled into her embrace.

“What’s the matter? Anything I can help with?” she asks, rubbing her hand up and down my back in a soothing motion.

I lean back up, wiping the escaped tears from my face.

“No,” I shake my head. “Sorry, I just feel a little overwhelmed right now. It’ll pass,” I tell her with a forced smile.

Looking back into the mirror, I wipe the smudged mascara from under my eyes. I’m not much for wearing makeup. Usually, I just throw on some mascara for my thin lashes and call it good—a decision I’m regretting tonight.

When I face Wren again, she’s studying me with a look of pure pity.

I hate that look.

“Really, I’m fine,” I say again, my tone more firm now.

Spinning on my heel, I step over to my guitar, grabbing the handle on the case.

She nods, biting at her lower lip like she knows she needs to proceed with caution—like she’s cornering a wild animal.

“I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m an excellent listener… If you ever wanna talk,” she says, lightly placing a hand on my shoulder.

Normally, I’d thank her for the offer and be on my way. But something about Wren doesn’t make me want to put up a wall and run in the opposite direction. She’s a genuinely nice person, and I don’t think there’s an ounce of evil in her blood—something about her screams that she’s a good friend, maybe even someone I can trust.

Deciding I need someone to vent to, I let the words spill out.

“I’m havin’ trouble findin’ a place to live. My roommates decided to move out last minute, and I can’t afford the place I’m stayin’ at by myself. The landlord already has new tenants lined up, and they wanna move in tomorrow. And those greedy bitches took the damn mac and cheese.” I feel another tear escape that I didn’t know had formed.

Wren takes in what I’ve said and thinks for only a second before responding.

“Come stay with me.”

My eyes quickly jump up to her. “What?”

“I know we don’t know each other, but I swear I’m not crazy. I have a spare room, and we could ride here together every Friday night if you wanted to.” She gives me a warm smile.

What the hell?

Who offers a stranger a room in their house?

My options are currently very slim, and it looks like it’s either her house or the street.

“I don’t know, Wren. I don’t make a lot of money, I wouldn’t?—”

“Hogwash,” she waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about money. My rent is cheap, and we can figure all that out later.” Another warm smile forms at the corner of her mouth, lighting up her crystal blue eyes. “Besides, I bought a huge case of mac and cheese that’s gonna go to waste. My eyes were bigger than my stomach that day, but I couldn’t pass up a sale. Look at me,” she gestures to her short frame. “I won’t be able to eat it all before it expires. You can come help me so I don’t have to toss any out.”

I let out a laugh over the tears. It would be crazy to move in with her—we don’t even know each other.

But is she really any more of a stranger than the people I’ve been living with these past years?

I want to take her up on the offer, but my stubborn pride gets the better of me.

“Thanks for the offer. Let me sleep on it?” I say, feeling like I at least maintain some control.

“Okay,” she nods. “Here, give me your phone, and I’ll type my number in. You can let me know what you decide.”

I reach into my back pocket and hand over the old flip phone. She quickly types her number and hands it back to me, a big, warmhearted smile on her face.

“It’ll all work out, Ind.” She pats my arm and walks out of the bathroom.

She really is the complete opposite of me. And not just in looks, where we are night and day different. My dark auburn hair to her light blonde, my tall build to her short stature. But where I’m a pessimist, she’s an optimist.

Maybe that’s just the type of person I need in my life right now.

When I arrive at my rental house a while later, I see my clothes and a few other belongings scattered across the front porch.

Fuck .

I walk up and gather as much as I can into my arms. This is one of those times when a girl is thankful that she doesn’t own many clothes.

Digging into my pocket, I pull out my house key and slide it into the lock, but the doorknob doesn’t budge when I try to turn the key. I jiggle the brass key in the lock again with a little more force, but no luck.

“Son of a mother fu—” I sigh and plop down into the doorway, resting my head against the old white door, feeling defeated.

It really never ends. I don’t feel like I ask for a lot in life: a decent job and a nice place to live. But every time I get one foot ahead, I’m shoved three back.

Letting out a long sigh, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

Is it too early to decide?

Her reply is instant.

Wren

Of course not! What’s the verdict?

I’ll help you with your mac and cheese crisis.

Wren

YAY! I’m so excited!

She sends the address, and I schedule a driver to pick me up.

At least there’s a little sunshine on this shitty-ass week.