Chapter 12
STEVIE
Now that he’s gone, I collapse to the kitchen floor, unleashing my fear, disgust, and humiliation.
I’m jittery from the knowledge he sexually assaulted and tattooed me.
Thank God I didn’t actually witness what he did.
Rocking from front to back, I sob at my situation, and wonder how the hell I’ll be able to fix it.
If I leave town, I’m afraid the FBI will track me down, thinking I’m hiding something.
If I stay, I’m afraid of this disturbing convict biker. I’m fucked on both sides of the law.
I fall asleep in the same place, and I’m awakened by the early dawn.
It’s five in the morning, so I scrape myself off the floor and pack my things.
The best thing for me to do right now is get out of the apartment, so I toss the most important meager belongings I have into my car, and take off.
To avoid those crazy women or the biker from the other town I ran into twice, I steer my car in the opposite direction of this town.
I park near the coffee shop, check myself in the rearview mirror, and hope I’m enough for the job.
The place is busy, and I’ve yet to see a biker.
A younger man is behind the counter, preparing drinks while an older man instructs him on what to do while distributing the orders.
The younger man’s eyes fly up to meet mine, but return to his duties.
I walk to the other side of the counter to speak to the older man, who I’m guessing is in charge.
After the current orders are given out, I step up, look at his name tag, and say, “Hello, Matt. My name is Stephanie, and I was wondering if there’s someone I could speak to about a job.”
Matt’s eyes wander over my face and down my body, causing the side of his mouth to tick upwards.
“I’m the manager.” He circles the counter and gestures to a corner table.
“We’re not looking for someone right now, but…
” his thumb jabs over his shoulder and he laughs, “…if this one doesn’t work out, we’ll have an opening. ”
I force a smile. “Could I leave my information? And also, do you know of anyone around town looking for help?”
He stretches his legs out, clasps his hands behind his head, and asks, “You from around here?”
“No. I have been driving for days, and this town caught my attention. Small towns are my thing, and Grimsby appears to be the place for me.” It’s not far from the truth.
He eyes me, drops his arms, and sits forward. “I have an idea. I’ll show you how to work the machines. I’ll give you a week, and if you do well, you got the job.”
My hand reaches for his, but I think twice and place it in my lap. “Thank you so much, Matt. I can start whenever.”
“Tomorrow will be best. Those are our slower days, and Harold won’t be working.”
Matt stands, and I follow suit, extending my hand. “I really appreciate it.”
We shake hands, and I head back to my car.
Now to figure out where I can stay. I could have asked Matt, but I didn’t want to push my luck.
Down the street, past a park, I find a realtor’s office, and set up a couple of appointments to look for apartments.
After that, I head on over to a B&B, where I soak in lavender suds in a clawfoot tub.
Tears start again as I think about all that’s happened to me already, and just how alone I really am.
Pure luck has me finding an apartment a mile away in a residential area, hosting several apartment complexes.
The machines at the coffee shop are easy to operate, so I clinched myself the job, which I’ve been at now for a couple of weeks.
Harold is still around, too. The coffee shop also sells sandwiches, rolls, and desserts.
Of course, I’ve tried most of the desserts, which are delicious.
I stay as invisible as possible, do my job, and head to my apartment.
This place affords me time to think. I still have a decent amount of savings from working at Times Up.
Once I figure out what to do and where to go, I’ll be okay with money.
My boss Matt has been fine, although he’s not very subtle when it comes to gawking at me.
Unfortunately, he’ll find little ways to touch me, like when I’m brewing something, he’ll place his hand over mine ‘to show me how it’s done.
’ I’ve still been dealing with my prior trauma, but so far, Matt hasn’t crossed any lines I’m unable to handle.
This is a resting place for me to put myself together and figure out my future.
Jumping ship isn’t justified yet. And this town is devoid of bikers.
A plus. Matt has voiced his dislike of bikers, too, explaining this town is one of the few in the area that isn’t swarming with them.
It’s too small for any of them to bother with.
It’s a rainy mid-afternoon, so the morning and lunch hour crowds have gone.
I’m cleaning and restocking the tables with napkins and silverware.
Harold left for the day, so it’s me and Matt, who is in the basement doing inventory.
I return behind the counter, adding more rolls and desserts to the glass display when the bell above the door jingles.
Lifting my head, I temporarily freeze as Frost and his friend walk in.
I drop the rolls where they are and rush to the door. “Um, I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”
Frost opens the door to read the store hours. “It says open until six.” He gives his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t it say that Smokey?”
Smokey lazily walks the room. “Yep.”
Frost reaches for my hair, but I smack his hand away. “The machines aren’t working, so we have to close early.”
He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head. “You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would ya?”
Bad timing. Matt comes up the stairs shouting to me, “Inventory is good!” When he sees Frost and Smokey, his footing falters, but he recovers fast. “Is there a problem?”
At the same time, I say, “They were just leaving” while Frost says, “Just want a coffee.”
Matt’s eyes shift from Smokey, Frost, and then me. “Are you okay, Stephanie?”
Frost raises an eyebrow at Matt. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
With a sluggish swallow, he says, “I don’t know, but she said you were leaving.”
Frost ignores Matt and sits at a table by the window where Smokey joins him. They open the small menus on the table, pretending to be interested in them. I hardly think bikers are into cafés serving trendy beverages, sandwiches, and scones among other things. Then it hits me.
Because I was in such a hurry to leave Moose Grove, I forgot about this damn GPS in my hand. That’s how he found me.
But why is he here? Why won’t he let me be?
I approach the table. “You have to go.”
In excruciating slow motion, Frost’s attention moves from the menu to me. “Are you refusing us service, darlin’?”
Matt must have heard and comes over. “Uh, no.” He takes my elbow, and Frost’s lip curls upward. “She’s new.”
He guides me to the counter and whispers, “Do you know them?”
The conversation we had about bikers floods my mind.
Matt can’t stand them, and I agreed with everything he said, even admitted to never meeting one.
I can’t afford to lose this job, because if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be driving all over the place, repeating the same pattern.
If Frost found me here, he’ll find me anywhere in the vicinity, because of this damn GPS.
I shake my head for emphasis. “No, I don’t.”
“I don’t want any trouble here, Stephanie, so take their order. If they start something, I’ll call the cops, but until then, they’re paying customers.”
I wipe my hands on my jeans before walking to their table. “What can I get you?”
Smokey sucks on his lower lip and then says, “I’ll take a Coke and a pastrami sandwich.”
He closes the menu and smiles at me, which I’d like to smack off his face. Those honey brown eyes won’t soften me, especially when he’s just as bad as his friend. There’s no doubt in my mind he slipped Frost’s note into my mailbox for me to meet him at the prison.
Frost glances up at his friend, shaking his head, and lets out a heavy sigh. “What do you suggest, Rebel?”
I bow a bit and whisper, “Please, King. I need this job.”
He rests his arms on top of the menu. “Please, what?”
“Don’t make trouble.”
“No trouble, Rebel. Smokey and I wanted something different.” He peruses the menu again, and adds, “But I ain’t gonna find it here.” King leans toward me. “Except you.”
He smiles, so I turn to place Smokey’s order as King shouts he’ll have a coffee.
I place their orders on the table, and leave quickly, but not before I see them laughing at me. King’s presence raises my anxiety and the things he’s done to me are sickening. For whatever reason, he’s set his sights on me, but I don’t know why or how to lose his interest.
How ironic is it that I didn’t want anything to do with my biker father, yet I wind up with one who stalks me.
Matt and I pretend to wipe down the counter, repositioning the foods, all the while watching these two talk, laugh, and occasionally glance our way.
Smokey finished his food thirty minutes ago, and they’re both on their second beverage.
Their legs are stretched forward, slouched in the chair, observing the people walking by or entering the shop.
When an attractive woman passes, they whistle between their teeth.
They’re as childish as they are intimidating.
A couple and a lone woman with a laptop come in, giving a double-take at Frost and Smokey, and finding tables at the far end of the café.
Finally, Frost signals me over, and I hand him the bill without making eye contact.
He rests an arm on the back of the chair, angles back, and says, “Looks like your boss hates bikers.” I remain quiet. “And he’s a pervert.” My gaze meets his. “He’s been checking you out when you ain’t looking.” Frost gives Matt a chin nod as he asks me, “You fucking your boss, Rebel?”
My head shakes. “No!”
When King stands, I step back, but his hand shoots out, grasping my wrist. There’s a moment where we stare at each other while he’s still latched onto me.
He steps closer, running his fingers through my hair, and Matt comes over cautiously.
Matt places his hand on my lower back, and King literally growls, narrowing his eyes at him.
Directing his question to Matt, he asks, “You in a relationship with her?” Matt denies it. “Then keep your fucking hands off her.”
Matt must have a death wish, because he responds, “I suggest you do the same.”
This amuses King. He drops my wrist to approach Matt.
I can’t have this happen, so I plead, “Please don’t.” From the corner of his eye, King looks at me, and I address Matt. “I’m okay. I can handle it.”
He hesitates then returns to the counter. King closes the distance, and I place a hand on his muscled chest to stop him.
Biting my lower lip, I ask, “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave now.”
He smirks. “Want us out? Kiss me.”
I look at Matt and turn to King. “I’ll lose my job.”
“Why? You ain’t dating him.”
There’s no way I’m going to admit Matt hates bikers. This will only provoke him.
“King, I’m begging you. I told him I didn’t know you.”
His calloused thumb wipes across my lips. “Not my problem.”
My eyes look to Smokey for help, but he’s leaning against the glass by the exit with his arm’s crossed, ignoring our interaction. The other people watch from their periphery.
To avoid it getting out of hand, I rise up on the balls of my feet, give him a quick peck on the lips, and lower down.
It wasn’t good enough. King laces his fingers in my hair, placing the other hand on my lower back, shrinking the space between us.
His lips capture mine, tongue demanding entrance, so I offer it.
Unlike in the past, it’s a masterful, lazy kiss, and he’s carrying it out as long as possible.
The assault and tattoo dim in my mind as I kiss him back.
I’ve never had such a suggestive passionate kiss, which has me relaxing into him.
His arm wraps around my back, bending me backwards, until I’m breathing in his air.
King pulls us upright, ends the kiss, and says, “See ya around, Rebel.”
They leave me with my mouth open, and Matt shooting off questions.