21. Waverly
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WAVERLY
L ife has always had a way of kicking me while I’m down, but I’m not sure things have ever gone so smoothly for me as they have over the last week, and it’s making me nervous.
First, I got the job at the Scarlet Lounge, which has been a godsend even after just a few shifts. The tips are life-changing, and I’m not even being dramatic.
Three shifts worth and I’ve been able to get my power turned back on, I’ve caught up on all the bills I’ve had in arrears, and I even had enough leftover to buy a few extra dresses for work. In fairness, they were thrifted, but I’ve been making do with mostly the same wardrobe since I left my father’s house in the dead of night when I was sixteen.
Buying new clothes has never been a luxury I could afford. Until now.
Emmett has been notably absent from the club the last couple of times I’ve worked, but I try not to take it personally. He’s probably just busy, and when he dropped me off last week, he made it sound like he was all in.
“Waverly!” Denise snaps, and I jump, almost spilling the pile of plates I’m carrying to the kitchen. “I need you to work tonight.”
“I can’t. I have a shift at my other job.”
“What other job?”
“The one I had to get when you cut my hours.” The words fall from my lips before I can swallow them.
“Excuse me?” She glares at me. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that? Girls like you are a dime a dozen.”
I force the anger down, even as it simmers to the top and threatens to boil over. “I just meant that in order to make ends meet, I got a second job.”
“Well, call out for that because I need you here.”
I consider my options as my arms scream at me to put down the stack that I’ve already been holding for too long. I can’t call in sick for the Scarlet Lounge in my second week. Plus, I’ll earn more there in a six-hour shift than I will if I pull a twelve-hour day here. But if I refuse Denise, she’ll make my life hell here, and I’m not quite ready to quit this job yet. I want to make sure the tips I’ve gotten so far aren’t a fluke and make sure I’m paid the generous hourly rate that was printed on the paperwork Wyatt gave me. It seemed too good to be true, but everything has been pretty above board so far. I’ll wait to receive my first paycheck before I make any rash decisions.
“Waverly?” Denise crosses her arms across her chest.
“I can’t tonight, Denise. Maybe ask Sally if she can come in? I know she was looking for more shifts,” I offer, hoping she’ll take the suggestion as just that and not some kind of attempt to undermine her authority. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as argumentative as she is.
“Look, I’ve been good to you, but if I can’t rely on you to work when I need you to, I’ll have to find someone who will.” She shrugs and walks away. The fact we didn’t come to a resolution doesn’t sit well with me, and a familiar anxiety begins to eat at me. Maybe she’s right. She has been good to me despite all her faults. She’s always made sure I have a meal here before I go home. She gave me extra shifts when I needed them. What if things go to hell at the Scarlet Lounge and I’m left with no job at all?
I’m so lost in my own panic that I don’t see the huge body before it slams into me, knocking me off my feet along with the stack of plates.
A sharp pain radiates through my side as I hit the ground with a cry, jagged pieces of porcelain slicing into my bare arms.
“Joe, what the fuck?” Terry, one of the older waitresses, rushes toward us, her eyes set on the big man that knocked me over. Her hands are on her hips as she stares at him expectantly.
Joe looks down at me with a frown, his deep chestnut eyes filled with regret. He’s been coming in here for longer than I’ve been working here, and he’s always been nice to all us girls. “Shit, sorry, Waverly! I didn’t see you there!”
“It’s okay,” I say through gritted teeth, but the agony is threatening to overwhelm me. It’s been a long time since my body has had to accept pain on a regular basis, and it’s certainly not accustomed to it anymore.
Joe and Terry both drop down to help me, but Denise’s screech has us all pausing in place. “Could you cause any more problems for me?” She glares down at me. “You know what, you’re not worth any of this shit. Get out.”
“Denise, it was my fault. I knocked into her,” Joe says, his eyes frantic. His body may be larger than life, but I learned early on that he’s the nicest guy that comes into this shithole.
“I don’t care. Get out and forget about your last paycheck. I’ll need to replace all the plates you broke.”
My mouth falls open, but there are no words between the pain and the shock of the situation.
I knew things were going too well for me, this is just proof of that.
Terry looks like she’s about to argue with her, but I shake my head. The last thing she needs is to be fired as well when she has two kids depending on her to put food on the table. At least it’s just me if I end up on the streets again.
“Clean up the mess before you go,” Denise snaps before turning on her heel and heading toward the office at the back of the building.
“What a cunt,” Joe rumbles, and a surprised laugh bursts from my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that word, and it sounds almost comical coming from him.
“You got that right,” Terry agrees under her breath. “I’m so sorry, Waverly.”
“It’s okay.” I sigh and push myself to my feet, ignoring the blood rolling down my arms and the sharp pain in my side. I’ll have to wait until I get home to get myself cleaned up. “It was only a matter of time.”
“I’m really sorry,” Joe says.
“It’s okay.” I force a smile to my lips and reach for the broom, wincing at the tug in my side.
“I’ve got this,” Terry tells me.
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully and head toward the locker room. I guess the decision was taken from me before I could make it. I just hope things pan out at the Scarlet Lounge, otherwise I’m fucked.
Once I have my bag and I’ve thrown most of the contents of my locker into it, I head out the back way, not wanting to face any of my colleagues or customers after Denise made such a show of firing me.
The warm afternoon air hits me straight away, and I dab at the cuts on my arms with the paper towel I swiped from the break room as I walk.
“What the fuck happened?” a familiar voice demands, and I flick my eyes up to meet familiar inky pools.
“Emmett? What are you doing here?” Heat hits my cheeks that he’s caught me looking like such a mess, but it pretty much tracks with my luck in general.
“I came to see you,” he says, his brows tugging together. “Are you okay?”
I track his eyes to where they’re locked on the cuts covering my arms. “Yeah, totally fine. I just had an accident. I’ll clean up once I get home.”
Without warning, I find myself scooped up into strong arms, and he carries me along the sidewalk to his familiar sedan.
“Emmett?”
“You need a hospital.”
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head, panic slamming into me. I just got fired, I certainly can’t afford any medical bills right now, and definitely not just for some cuts and bruises.
“Yes, you do. I’m taking you to urgent care.”
I shove at his shoulder. “No hospitals,” I growl. I tend to avoid official government buildings at all costs anyway. I may have changed my name, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be tracked here. I manage to fly under the radar and remain hidden because I’m smart about where I go and who I speak to. Walking my ass into a hospital is absolutely not an option. Not if I want to stay in New York.
He stares down at me for a long moment before checking the time on his watch. “Fine. I’ll take you to Elias. He was a medic with the SEALs.”
I’m about to argue when he slips me into the passenger seat of his car and secures my seat belt. His warmth is more addictive than I care to admit, and as soon as he pulls away, I miss his comforting scent.
Yeah. I knew things were going too well for me.