CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
With her first shift complete, Grace perched on a stool in the back of the restaurant and waited while her rideshare app searched for an available vehicle. On the other side of the room, the kitchen staff bustled around stainless-steel tables, using the slow period between lunch and dinner to prep for the Friday night crush.
Her feet hurt, and she was exhausted. She hadn’t waitressed in a long time. How was she going to manage full days, care for Riley, and help her mother with chores long-term?
She rubbed a knot in her calf. She would suck it up. That’s what would happen. A wave of depression crashed over her. She’d thought she’d hit bottom years ago. There was nothing like being homeless with a baby to humble a person. Unless it was being homeless with a four-year-old. The visit with social services had scared the hell out of her. If Grace didn’t have housing, they could take Riley away.
Howard would help make that happen. He’d testify against her.
Panic filled her like a swarm of bees, fear buzzing through her veins.
She had to make this work. She couldn’t go through that again. She couldn’t sweat through every day, begging friends for help, wondering if she and her child would have a roof over their heads or food to eat. She used to know which food pantries had the best offerings and which days were best to pay them a visit. She had no desire to experience that life again.
“Can I give you a lift?” Isaac asked.
Grace looked away from her phone. Isaac was grabbing his coat from the closet. He worked in the kitchen. A few years older than her, he seemed nice, but Grace was done with trusting anyone. Howard had been nice when they’d first met. When he was sober, he could turn on the charm like a faucet. He’d love bombed her. Flooded her with presents and compliments. He’d even bought Riley a few toys. He’d made Grace feel like she was special, cherished. She’d fallen hard and spent the next few months trying to be the best girlfriend she could be. She’d cooked his favorite meals, kept his house scrupulously clean, kept Riley quiet when he was working. She’d been pleasant and taken care with her appearance. Look where that had gotten her.
This time would be different. She would be independent. Was that even possible for her now? How would she ever make enough money to pay rent and buy food? She didn’t have a car. Taking an Uber with a kid was tough. The car seat had to be hauled along. Some cars were harder to get the seat installed. Drivers could be impatient. Once, Riley had puked in an Uber on the way to the pediatrician.
She managed a small smile as she lied. “I have a ride on the way, but thanks for the offer.”
With a wave, Isaac left through the back door.
Grace checked her app. Shared rides were cheaper but took longer to arrive. She was on a very tight budget, though. Until she received her first paycheck, she had barely enough money to pay for the Ubers and Lyfts she’d need to get to work. So, she’d wait. Her parents were allowing her to live with them for free for the first three months. After that, she’d have to pay rent.
But everything was different now.
If they found out, would they renege on their arrangement? Would they kick her out? What if child services came calling? What if Howard made accusations? She couldn’t win.
If it weren’t for Riley, she wouldn’t even care. Her daughter was her light—the only reason she got out of bed every morning.
Grace chewed on her straw. When she’d gotten pregnant with Riley, she’d left rather than face her father’s wrath and her mother’s even more cutting disappointment. She’d been raised to be a “good girl.” Sex was never spoken about. Grace hadn’t even worn shorts or sleeveless tops until she’d left home. At her parents’ request, she’d been excluded from sex ed class. She’d been clueless. Thankfully, Grace’s friends had been more than willing to educate her. Of course, some of that information hadn’t been correct, and Grace had been rebellious—hence Riley.
Now she was too tired to be defiant. She’d do whatever her parents wanted if they just let her and Riley stay. She’d cook and clean and dress like a freaking nun if it meant security for her little girl.
Water sizzled on the grill. A line cook scraped away. The greasy odor filled Grace’s nose, turning her stomach. She rose, slinging her small purse onto her shoulder and heading out the back door before she lost her free lunch. Outside, she welcomed the damp air. She turned her face to the sky and let the drizzle cool her skin. The wind shifted, bringing the odor of the dumpster closer.
Tears gathered in her eyes. What was she going to do? She wanted to curl into a ball, close her eyes, and give up. Her phone buzzed. She looked at her phone screen. Uber had found her a ride, but it was Riley’s photo on her lock screen that made her stand up straight. She didn’t have the luxury of being able to give up. Riley needed her mother to make a life for them. A wave of nausea hit, and she couldn’t afford to be sick. Grace breathed deeply, willing her stomach to stop churning. Tears ran down her already-wet cheeks.
A gray sedan pulled up to the side of the restaurant. Both Uber and Lyft signs glowed on the dashboard. It wasn’t unusual for drivers to work for both companies. Wanting nothing more than to get away from the smells, Grace headed for the vehicle.
She was almost there when something made her pause, just a feeling that all wasn’t right.
The driver cracked the window. Grace leaned over, trying to see his face. But the window was tinted.
“Grace?” he asked.
He knew her name. That was normal. Yet Grace’s feet didn’t move. Her body didn’t want to get into the car, but a cancellation fee would eat into her budget. She needed to get home. She needed to see Riley. She took one step. Then her brain kicked into gear. She hadn’t looked at the vehicle details on the app. She woke her phone. The car coming for her was a black Honda CR-V, and it was still ten minutes away. But what were the odds of someone else named Grace calling for an Uber at this time and place?
Instinct pulled her feet backward. The urge to run came from somewhere deep inside, an instinct Grace couldn’t understand or override. She knew with every cell of her being that if she got into that car, she’d die.
She spun, terror hijacking her coordination. Her feet tangled over each other, and she stumbled, falling to one knee. She pressed a palm to the ground and pushed to her feet.
The sedan door flung open. The driver launched himself out of the vehicle. No! Grace dug the ball of her foot into the concrete.
Run. Run. Run.
Her muscles bunched. She pushed into the ground, propelling her body forward, back toward the restaurant. She tried to scream for help, but panic wrapped around her throat like strong fingers, silencing her voice.
Behind her, boots scraped on the concrete. An arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her feet from the ground.
“No!” She swatted and kicked at him, tried to twist away. One of her sneakers connected with his leg. He grunted. His hold weakened. Grace’s sneakers touched the ground for two seconds. She pulled away. Hope flashed, as bright—and short-lived—as a firecracker.
He hauled her off her feet again. She struggled, twisting and arching, desperation making her movements wild. A fist slammed into the back of her head. Pain exploded in her skull. Her vision dimmed, and her body went limp. Disorientation squashed thoughts of escape. She could do nothing but hang, helpless, as he tossed her into the trunk. The lid slammed down before Grace could fully process what had happened.
She beat her fists on the trunk, but the car rolled into motion. The smells of dirt, rubber, and metal filled her nose, and she gagged.
A minute before she’d thought begging for her parents’ forgiveness was the worst thing that could have happened to her.
She’d been wrong.