Chapter 2
brIELLE
After locking the doors to the bar, I start my trek over to my piece-of-shit car, the one that requires using a screwdriver to start it.
Anyone could steal it since the actual key isn’t needed.
All you have to do is shove that shit in the ignition and go.
But who the fuck would want something that looks like a rusty toaster?
I wouldn’t steal it, and it’s my stupid car.
I got it for five hundred bucks from a teenager selling it on Craigslist. It might be a piece of shit, but it gets me to work and back.
Most of the time.
I start it up with my handy-dandy screwdriver, and begin my short drive home. It takes roughly five minutes to get there at this time of night. Cool air seeps through every crack of this car, and since the heater doesn’t work, that means it’s fucking freezing.
I put the car in park, and fling the door open, jogging to the apartment. Fingers dig into my pocket for the keys before I slide one into the lock and push the door open. Warmth hits me, but the stench hits harder.
After locking the door behind me, I step further into the living room, and this time it’s not empty. Chase is sprawled on the sofa, a beer in his hand as a football game blares on the TV screen. Morgan, nowhere in sight.
I pass the TV on the way to my room, and Chase’s eyes leave the screen to follow me.
“Make sure you have your rent on the table by tomorrow, Brielle.” He pauses to grab another cigarette from the coffee table.
“I needed it today. You’re lucky Morgan got a bonus, or all your shit would’ve been outside.
” He scoffs in my direction as if he hasn’t told me this five times since last night.
“I can think of another way you can pay me if you’re short on cash,” he says, his mouth curling into a smile.
One I think is supposed to be sexy, but he looks like a fucking wild monkey who found a banana in the trash.
Walking closer to where he’s leaning back, I bend so my mouth is next to his ear. “I’d rather live in a cardboard box with roaches than touch you, Chase.” Standing to my full height, I walk to my room.
“Fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
Once the door is locked, I drop my bag to the carpet and pull my jacket off, tossing it on my bed.
Fuck, I can’t wait to move. I want nothing more than to take a steaming hot shower, but I’ll wait until later when Chase is passed out or in his room.
Tonight’s one of the nights where I miss Mom the most. Yeah, it sucked seeing the life drain from her due to the cancer, but at least we were together.
I knew her time was ending before it did.
Knowing didn’t hurt less, but it still helped prepare me mentally.
We knew for years it was going to be slow and painful, but I miss her more every day.
If she saw me now, she’d be disappointed.
I promised her I would make a good life for myself, but here I am—way worse off.
I’m a bartender at a hole-in-the-wall biker bar in a shitty-ass town with no plan for my future.
But right now, I have to worry about coming up with a few hundred dollars by tomorrow, or Chase might actually toss all my shit outside.
I strip off my clothes and pull on a loose shirt before throwing myself down on the bed. It’s almost four, and I’m exhausted. The long shift I worked was rough, one I only worked because I was certain I’d have enough for rent. I made a decent amount, but nowhere near enough.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift off, not ready for what tomorrow might bring.