2. Chapter 2 - Layrin
Chapter 2
11 years later
B eep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I swung my hand at my infernal dollar store alarm clock, hoping that if I hit it hard enough, the cheap plastic thing would break.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
That was just my luck. I threw off my thin covers, bent down, snagged the clock by the wire, and yanked it from its socket. The annoying beeping stopped, and I crashed down onto my mattress.
Working a double the day before had been grueling, and working a long shift tonight seemed unfair. My bones ached. All I wanted to do was cocoon myself in my bed and sleep for five days, but I needed the money.
Growling at my responsible self, I threw my feet up and over the mattress, twisting my body to get up. It wasn't a long drop since the mattress was on the floor. The getting up was the annoying part.
An unofficial part of my morning ritual, I reached up, fingering the gold triangle pendant on my neck, taking solace in the fact that it was still with me.
Shaking my head, I stood up and took five short steps to get into the bathroom, then shucked off my sleep clothes and turned on the shower. I turned it to cold, spraying myself with the frigid water for ten seconds to wake myself up before I turned it to a blazing hot spray, almost burning my skin off in order to keep me up. It was going to be a long day, so I needed my wits about me. Pulling on the already fraying, holey towel, I hurried to dry myself before getting dressed.
Not having a uniform for the diner was annoying since it meant having to repeatedly wash the few clothes I had to make sure everything was clean. It was only a couple of jeans, a couple of leggings, a black circle skirt for interviews, about a handful of v-neck t-shirts, and a few blouses. Oh, and one emerald green sequined dress that was far too short for my liking. Vivian had given it to me a while ago when she figured out I didn’t have any “clubbing” clothes.
I threw on a clean set of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my thrift store crossbody leather purse, and booked it out of my dump of a studio apartment.
Since I lived in the crappy part of town, I quickly made my way down the street and around the corner to Mel’s Diner where I worked. It was a decent place with decent people running it. Mel had taken a chance on me a few years ago when I was out on my own, with only a high school diploma and no prior work experience. He looked at me and said he knew a hard worker when he saw one. He was the first adult person who didn't look at me like I was a street urchin, a scourge on society, or a cursed child surrounded by bad luck.
I was used to my bad luck. It had followed me around all my life. First, for being an orphan, landing in Miss Vaughn's orphanage, then it got worse when unexplainable things started to happen around me in high school. The small town I grew up in ended up calling me the black cloud and the cursed kid, blaming me for the misfortunes that fell upon people who associated with me.
It started with Jake Grinder, my first kiss, who got his face bashed in by a strange man who also cut off his lips. The girl who bullied me in high school, Raina Herbs, got hit by a bus, breaking both legs and losing a toe. Kenneth Parish was the guy I gave my first blowjob to. He ended up falling down a mine shaft and ripped off his nails by trying to hold on to the sides. Trevor Monic, the guy I’d lost my virginity to, mysteriously disappeared. Later, I found out he’d had an accident involving his dick and ended up moving away with his parents. After that, everyone was wary of me and started whispering behind my back.
The bullying got worse after that, but I brushed it off, acting like it didn't bother me. Eventually, when it was no longer fun, everyone left me alone, kept me isolated, which was fine by me, but when I tried to pick up a few odd jobs for some cash, no one would hire me. That was the main reason I had to escape my shitty small town by moving two towns over, just so I could get a simple job. I was far enough away for the rumors not to follow me but close enough that I understood the people and where I stood in our community.
Shoving open the aluminum door, I walked past the hostess stand and yelled at the dancing man through the slit at the kitchen counter. “Hey, Mel! Clocking in.”
He swiveled his large body around, smiling at me with crooked teeth that were part of his charm. “Hey, sweets! Didn’t you just work a double? Who the hell is workin’ you so hard?”
I pretended to play his little game with a wry smile. “Oh, you know, I have this mean boss man that’s just a slave driver. He tells me to work or else he’ll put me on the streets.”
He cracked up, his whole body shaking, especially his Santa Claus belly. “Oh, man. He sounds like the worst. In fact, he sounds like my boss too! Having me here in this hot ass kitchen like it's where I sleep!”
I shifted my eyes around, leaning against the metal counter as I whispered, “But you know how I get him back?” His eyes went wide before he put his spatula down and leaned toward me. I cupped my mouth. “When he asks me to get him a coffee, sometimes I use salt instead of sugar.”
He straightened up, giving me a serious face as he rubbed his finger and thumb around his chin. “Oh! So that's why my coffee tastes so weird.” We looked at each other expectantly before we bent over, cracking up again. This was Mel, the kind-hearted, sixty-year-old jokester that owned this diner. The man had looked at my ratty clothes and scraggly hair and let me bus tables for some cash. Once I showed him that I was planning to stick around, he trained me to become a waitress, telling me I would make better money that way.
He sobered up then asked, “Any news yet?”
I shook my head and gave a small smile. “Nope.”
After one particularly hard night, Mel convinced me that I had the “stuff” to be able to get out of here and make something of myself. He told me about some site where I could apply for scholarships to get into college, insisting on it even though I tried to tell him it was too late for me. I was already twenty-one and working hard on being a responsible adult, and I didn't even have a computer. He’d balked and driven me to the library, where he showed me the site and walked me through one of the applications. From then on, whenever I felt extra shitty about my life, I would go there and apply for another scholarship so I could dream of a life beyond what I knew.
“ Yet . You forgot to add the yet,” he chastised, and I rectified it to appease the sweet old man.
“Not yet.” I didn't tell him that after the dreams in my mind played out, reality came crashing in. I never expected anything to come back because if I did, I would just be crushed when it didn't. Keep those expectations low, Layrin.
The door dinged as I put on my blue apron and called out to Mel, “You just keep those stoves running, and I’ll handle it out here, old man.”
He chuckled at my back. “Alright, sweets. You holler if you need anything, you hear?”
I nodded even though I knew I could take care of myself.
I turned just in time to see a pair of familiar greasy eyes that trailed down my body. “Hey, Layrin baby. How you been?”
My smile became forced, and I gripped a couple of menus as some of Finn’s boys came into view to back him up. “Fine,” I said in a clipped tone, moving around the station to motion to one of the bigger booths in the back. “I’ll put you at your usual.”
Finn stepped up right behind me, his breath hot on my neck, and I resisted the urge to scratch it. Setting the menus on the table, I turned to leave. “I’ll be back to take your drink, or—”
As his boys filed into the booth, Finn grabbed my wrist and tugged me closer. “Someday, I want you to join me in one of these booths as my girl. I bet you would like that, huh?” His body crowded around mine, but I kept my stance, not backing down like I knew he wanted. He whispered along my neck, and his overpowering cologne filled my lungs, making me want to gag. “I can give you more than you’ve ever had, darlin’.”
“No, thank you. I'm not interested in dating.” I kept my tone firm and curt before backing up and going to the kitchen. “I’ll be back to take your order.” I purposely walked slowly, back straight and my chin high. I was not about to let that fucking drug dealing wannabe gangster get one up on me. No matter how much money he waved in my face, I wasn’t about to be his “girl.” That just made my insides crawl.
The second my hand landed on the kitchen door, the jingle of the bell brought me back to the hostess stand.
“I know I'm late. I know!” A flash of curly blonde hair zoomed past me as Vivian chucked her little blue crossbody bag under the counter. She snagged an apron, furiously tying it on before she turned those baby blues my way. She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’m done with Jimmy, by the way. Kicked him out. Fuck him. Fuck him in the ass!” She barreled past me to grab a mug off the shelf, pouring herself some coffee before doctoring it with so much sugar and cream that it made me wonder if it was even coffee anymore.
I didn't say a word about her tantrum. We had the whole day shift together, with her manning the bar counter while I took the booths and tables, so I knew she would eventually tell me everything once she calmed down.
She took a sip of her sugar and cream with a hint of coffee, closing her eyes for a second of reprieve before scanning the room. She rolled her eyes when they got to Finn and his crew in the back, unable to hide her disgust. “Ugh! Can’t we just tell them that we don’t serve slimy, disgusting pricks?”
I motioned to the door when the bell jingled, one of her regulars coming in and moving to the counter down the way. I huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think we can just turn someone away because they’re a dick. If only the world worked like that.” I winked at her before leaving to make the rounds at my tables.
For the next hour, I actively tried to avoid Finn’s table, only delivering curt questions and answers when I had to for service. His slimy, sickening gaze followed me while I worked my section. I wished he would just give up. I’d told him no a million times, but it hadn't stuck in that thick skull of his.
The regulars that I was fond of made up for having to deal with him. Earl, from the machine shop down the road, kept calling me back to refill his coffee. He would stroke his long beard as he mean mugged Finn’s table. Mrs. Mary, a forty-year-old blonde nurse, kept calling me over, asking me random questions to keep me away from that table. Every once in a while, Mel would bellow for me, and I would rush to the kitchen only for him to say he’d “forgotten” what he needed.
All the support made the hour Finn was here bearable, but as soon as they got up to leave, Finn sought me out, grabbed my hand, and kissed it. My insides knotted up in disgust. “I want to take you out, Layrin. I want to get you out of this hell hole and help you shine like the diamond you are.”
Yanking my hand back, resisting the urge to wipe it, I gave him a curt smile. “I like it here. Have a good day, Finn.” Then I booked it around the corner and into the kitchen before he could say another word. Mel was waiting, bat in hand, as he watched the door just in case Finn tried to follow me.
Vivian’s loud voice belted, “Bye, Finn. Have a good day!” I heard an angry scoff, then he mumbled under his breath about punching that loud bitch. I swore if he tried to hurt Vivian, I would grab one of the kitchen knives and stab him. I didn’t care. I’d bet the whole diner would turn their eyes away and tell the cops nothing.
“He’s gone,” Vivian whispered through the kitchen counter. Mel’s eyes burrowed into mine, wordlessly asking if I was okay.
I shrugged, giving him a wry smile because this was my life—bad luck and bad people wherever I went. Ducking out before Mel had a chance to lay into me, I was met with a different kind of trouble, the Vivian kind.
“When is that fucker going to take no for a fucking no! What an asshole!” she huffed, glancing at the door and biting her lip like she was debating doing something stupid. Something that could get her hurt. I had to turn this conversation around fast.
“So, what happened with Jimmy?” She whirled around, exploding into a fit of rage, her arms flying around everywhere. She’d caught him cheating on her with her cousin who lived down the hallway from them. To be honest, I could’ve predicted it. Her cousin was known for being easy, and she had always been very jealous of Vivian’s natural beauty.
Cue the typical bitch move to try to steal something from her. Partner her cousin’s jealousy with her horndog boyfriend, and it was a readymade disaster. The only thing that didn't make sense was that Vivian was so far and above Jimmy he should’ve been kissing the ground she walked on.
Vivian was gorgeous—beyond gorgeous for this kind of neighborhood. Her bright blonde curly hair flowed and bounced, just like in the movies. Her swirling crystal blue eyes were easy to fall into. She had this adorable button nose, high cheekbones, and lashes so long you had to wonder if they ever prevented her from seeing. To top that all off, she was fun, expressive, and criminally loyal.
“Good riddance. You deserved better than that douchebag.” The side of her mouth quirked up, but her eyes spoke the echoes of disbelief.
She didn't think she deserved better. She had grown up as the bastard child of an New York elite executive and his mistress. It was all good when he was spending money on her and her mom, living the good life… until his wife found out. She promised to rain down hell on them, and she did. Vivian’s dickhole father did nothing, claiming that her mom had always known the deal, and he would never leave his rich, powerful, and well-bred wife for a pretty face and a nice ass.
So he let his wife have her vengeance. She pushed Vivian and her mom into poverty until they moved states away where her mom had family, never to be acknowledged by him again. They had scrimped and scraped to get by until her mom was diagnosed with cancer and died a year ago.
“Right?!” She laughed, but it sounded hollow and forced.
I hated to see her like this, so bummed out over a stupid fucker like Jimmy. He was an unemployed waste of space, sucking up all her funds while she worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads. Whenever I told her to leave him, she would always give the excuse that he had stayed with her while her mom was sick. Had been there to hold her when she was crying and sad at night.
Knowing that I needed to take advantage of this break-up before she caved and took him back, I blurted out something very unlike me. “Let's go out tonight! We’ll find you a new man to get under.” She cocked an eyebrow, and I amended my statement. “Or over. Depending on your mood, of course.”
“Really, Lay?” She tilted her head, hand on her hips, and looked me up and down. “Who are you, and what have you done with Layrin? She would never offer to go clubbing with me.”
My nose scrunched up when she said the word “clubbing,” but I gulped and gave a curt nod. “Yes. If that's what you want.” She squealed, grabbed my hands, and started to jump up and down.
A regular at the counter tapped his mug with a spoon, signaling for her to come and refill it, but she zipped around and yelled, “You will wait your goddamn turn, Gavin, or I will tell your wife you’re having that cherry pie you’re not supposed to!” Gavin immediately put his spoon down and mumbled his apology, eyes on his newspaper.
She faced me again, mischief peppering her gaze as she tugged on hand. “After our shift, come over to my apartment. We’ll take home some dinner from Mel and get ready at my house.” I opened my mouth to tell her that I needed to get my one good dress from my place, but she lifted her hand. “Nope. You’re just going to borrow one of my dresses and heels. This is going to be great!”
Grabbing a coffee pot, she went down the line at the counter, doing her refills with a little pep in her step.
Ugh! What did I get myself into?