Chapter 2
She’s all broken inside but no one will ever notice.
—Unknown
Fable
“So.” Owen slurps on the giant thirty-two-ounce soda I bought him at the gas station, where we stopped to fill up my mom’s crap car on the way home. “Can I eat for free at this joint you’re working at?”
I shake my head. “It’s too classy. Kids aren’t really welcome.
” The understatement of the year. The restaurant is definitely not kid friendly.
In fact, I’m thinking it’s not really Fable friendly either, but I’m willing to give it a chance.
Colin claims I can make a ton of money in tips, though I’m not sure if I believe him.
My thoughts drift to Colin. He owns the restaurant because his rich daddy gave it to him to play with. That much I gleaned from him when he first brought me there. He’s nice. He’s attractive. He’s charming.
Beyond chatting with him like he’s my boss and I’m his employee, I’m avoiding him as much as possible. I took him up on his job offer, though it sounds almost too good to be true.
Funny thing is, I haven’t quite given notice at La Salle’s yet. Holding on to that job until I know for sure the new job is going to work out is the only way to keep the money consistently flowing in.
And as always, my inflow of money is the most important thing. Our mom isn’t doing anything to ensure that’s happening.
Owen puffs up his chest, his expression indignant. “Are you kidding me? I’m not a kid. I’m fucking fourteen!”
I slap his arm and he yelps. “Language,” I warn because, oh my God, he needs to watch that mouth of his. And since when did the legal adult age get bumped back four years? In his dreams.
“Seriously, Fabes, you can’t even sneak me in?” Owen shakes his head, his irritation clear. “I hear the chicks who hang out there are bangin’.”
I don’t need to hear my little brother talking about bangin’ chicks and whatever else. Bad enough I found the baggy of weed in his jeans pocket when I did laundry a few days ago. I showed it to my mom and she shrugged, then demanded I hand the bag over.
She proceeded to open it and took a deep sniff, proclaiming the weed high-quality stuff. I know she took it with her over to Larry’s house later and they probably got high as hell. I still can’t believe it. How did I become so normal and stable when my mom is such a … child?
You had no choice.
Wasn’t that the damn truth?
“Listen, the dinners they serve are like fifty bucks a plate. It’s for couples and stuff.
And there’s a bar. After ten, the place is completely shut down to those under twenty-one,” I explain.
It’s truly the most beautiful, elegant restaurant I’ve ever seen, let alone worked at.
It’s organized and efficient; everything and everyone has a place.
The staff isn’t very friendly, though. More like snobby.
I’m sure they sneer at me behind my back, the white-trash townie who’s come to work among their elitist ranks.
Whatever. All I care about is the tips. And the fact that Colin believes in me. It’s been a long time since someone believed in me. I thought Drew did, but the longer he’s absent from my life, the more it proves to me that was all fake. We just got a little too caught up in the fantasy.
“You can’t even bring me any leftovers, huh?” Owen’s question snaps me out of my thoughts and I glance at him, see the smirk on his face.
He’s getting more and more good-looking as time passes. I have no idea if he has a girlfriend or not, but I really hope he puts that sort of thing off for a least a little while longer. Relationships are nothing but trouble.
“That’s so gross.” I roll my eyes. I used to bring him home burgers from La Salle’s. Which goes to show I completely spoiled him.
“Well, Mom sure as hell isn’t going to feed me. Sorry,” he blurts when he catches my evil eye over his profanity. “And I feel like a jerk with how much I hang out at Wade’s house. His mom has to be getting sick of me.”
Guilt swamps me. I need this job. I need both of my jobs, and that means I can’t be there for Owen.
Making him dinners, keeping on top of his homework, forcing him to clean that dump of a room.
The apartment has three bedrooms, a rarity but in demand in a college town, and the rent is getting more expensive.
Considering my mom is never here and it’s usually just Owen and me, I’m considering looking for another apartment. For just the two of us.
This little tidbit will piss my mom off when I tell her.
It doesn’t matter that she spends the majority of her time with Larry.
It doesn’t matter that she’s hardly ever here and doesn’t have a job and can’t afford the rent.
She’ll still be angry and take it personally, like Owen and I are forcing her out.
I kind of am. I don’t want her with us anymore. She’s not a good influence. Owen’s uncomfortable around her and so am I. I’m done.
But for whatever reason, I’m scared to confront her. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of unnecessary drama. And that’s what my mom is. Complete and total drama.
My cell beeps, indicating I have a text, and I check it, see that it’s from my new boss. Unease slips down my spine as I read the message.
What are you doing?
I type in the good employee response.
Getting ready for work.
Hey, it’s the truth.
I’m in the neighborhood. Let me pick you up and take you there.
I stare at his message for too long, ignoring Owen as he starts griping about what he’s going to have to fix himself for dinner. What the hell could Colin want? Why would he be in my shit hole of a neighborhood? It makes no sense. Unless he purposely came looking for me …
I don’t have to be at work for almost an hour, I reply.
I’ll pay you for the extra time. Come on.
Sighing, I type in my answer: Give me five minutes.
“I gotta go,” I tell Owen as I head for my bedroom.
I haven’t changed into my work uniform, if you can call it that.
All the waitresses have to wear the most outrageous dresses I’ve ever seen.
There are at least four different dresses and they’re sexy as all get-out, with our boobs hanging out, or they fit us skintight.
I get the sex appeal thing. We don’t look slutty or anything, but if I bend over wrong, I’m giving everyone a flash of my ass.
Boy-short undies are the name of the game for those dresses.
I’m grabbing my dress off the hanger when I catch Owen lurking in my doorway. “What’s up?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “What do you think of me getting a tattoo?”
My head spins for a moment. Oh my God, where does he come up with this stuff? “First, you’re only fourteen, so legally you can’t get one. Second, you’re only fourteen. What could you possibly want to have tattooed forever on your body?”
“I dunno.” He shrugs again. “I thought it might be cool. I mean you just got one, so why can’t I?”
“Maybe because I’m an adult and you’re not?
” A few weeks before Christmas, when I still believed Drew and I had a chance, I got one.
The stupidest tattoo you could ever imagine.
I thought by doing it, by having a piece of him, no matter how small, permanently etched into my skin, I could somehow call him back to me.
Didn’t work. And now I’m stuck with it. Thank God it’s small. I could probably have it filled in if I wanted to.
Right now, I don’t want to.
“So you put some guy’s initials on your body and it’s cool, but I can’t get an artistic tat of a dragon on my back or whatever? So unfair.” He shakes his head, his dirty-blond hair getting in his eyes, and I want to smack him.
And I also want to draw him into my arms and ask where did the sweet, simple kid of not even a year ago go? Because he sure as hell isn’t around here anymore.
“It’s different.” I turn away from him and yank the dress off the hanger, clutching it in my hand. “I need to change, so you need to go.”
“Who’s the guy, anyway? You never did tell me.”
“He’s no one.” The words are heavy as they fall from my lips. He was definitely someone. He was my everything for the briefest, most intense moment of my life.
“He’s not no one. He broke your heart.” Venom fills Owen’s voice. “I ever find out who he is, I’ll kick his ass.”
I smile because I can’t help it. His defense of me is … awesome. We’re a team, Owen and I. We’re all each other’s got.
I slip outside of my apartment because I so don’t want Colin knocking on my door and meeting Owen. Or worse, seeing the inside of our dingy apartment. Wherever Colin lives, I bet it’s amazing. If his house is half as gorgeous as his restaurant, then it has to be amazing.
The second I step off the stairs, he’s there in a sleek black Mercedes, the engine purring, the car so new it doesn’t have plates yet. I take a step back when he opens the door and climbs out of the car, a blond god with a devastating smile and twinkling blue eyes.
He rounds the car, opening the passenger-side door for me with a flourish. “Your carriage awaits.”
I hesitate. Is this a mistake, climbing into his car with him?
I’m not afraid of Colin, yet I am afraid of the situation I might be putting myself in.
He’s a flirt, but I notice he flirts with pretty much everyone who works for him—and the customers.
He never crosses a line, though; he’s always polite and knows when to step back if need be.
But am I giving him mixed signals by allowing him to pick me up for work? He just happens to be near my apartment so he can swing by and get me? I don’t believe it.
Not for a second.
“Did you come here specifically to pick me up?” I ask him the minute he climbs back into the car and slams the door.
He turns to look at me, our faces awfully close. The car is nice but small and the setting is rather intimate. He smells like expensive cologne and leather, and I wonder for a quick minute if I could actually feel something for this guy.