Chapter 36
Riley
“Riley, can I talk to you before you go?”
I worked hard not to show my annoyance. It was past midnight. My feet ached, my back hurt, I was covered in butter and bits of lobster shell, and I could still see the astonishment on Deacon’s face. I had my bag in my hand and was steps from freedom. I wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for twelve hours before I had to return to the Lobster Shack.
Instead, I pasted on a smile and turned around to smile at the manager. “Sure, Shannon. What’s up?”
“Come to my office,” she said.
My smile faltered, and I followed her to the tiny office crammed at the back of the kitchen. The smell of lobster and butter assaulting my nose, I sat on the rusty folding chair she pointed to as she sank into the chair behind her desk and gave me a solemn look.
“Did I do something wrong, Shannon?” I asked.
“No, no,” she said. “Nothing like that. You’ve been a great server for the last two weeks, Riley.”
I relaxed against the chair. “Okay. For a second there, I thought you were firing me.”
She flinched, and I said, “Oh shit. You are firing me.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, “and it isn’t because of anything you’ve done. But the owner wants to cut costs, and since you were one of the last servers hired, we have to let you go.”
I stared blankly at her as she said hurriedly, “You’re not the only one. We’re also losing Jemma and Greg, too.”
“But… it’s so busy here,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” she said with a sigh. “Honestly, between you and me, we’ll be fucked once the three of you are gone, but the owner has no idea how to run a restaurant. He’s just looking at costs.”
I chewed at my bottom lip, ignoring the stinging pain. “I really need this job. Could I maybe talk to him or -”
“No, I’m sorry. I hate to lose you, but he’s got it in his head that we have too many servers.” Shannon reached into her desk and handed me an envelope. “Here’s your last paycheque. If you need a reference for another server job, use my name, okay? I’ll give you a glowing one.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Shannon.” I left her office, walking slowly through the kitchen as I took off my ridiculous hat. I stared at it before setting it on the counter and walking out.
* * *
I parkedin my spot and shut off the car before staring blankly at my apartment building. It was after midnight and freezing, and sitting in the car as it slowly got colder wasn’t smart.
But I felt nearly glued to the seat by the weight of my anxiety and the thought that tomorrow, I would be back on the job hunt again. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Maybe this time, I could find a job where I didn’t have to wear a fucking lobster on my head.
My cheeks burned as I thought about Deacon standing in the Lobster Shack. The look on his face… fuck, I was embarrassed, and I hated that I was. There was nothing wrong with working there, and I didn’t have to feel ashamed that Mr. Money Bags saw me.
Why the hell did he even show up there?
Does it matter? Ask him on Monday if you have such a burning need to know. Right now, you need to get your ass inside and start looking for another job.
Yeah, I did, but not tonight. Tonight, I would have a bath in my dumb, too-small, and not nearly as nice as Deacon’s bathtub, tub, and drink that bottle of wine I’d been saving for a special occasion. In the morning, I would start applying for jobs.
Or you could email the Twisted Sisters. You busted your ass for two weeks, and all you got for it was a potentially permanent smell of butter on your skin and a rash from that cheap polyester shirt. It’s a fuck of a lot easier to be someone’s good girl. You know it is.
Maybe, but despite the coldness radiating from Deacon every time he was within ten feet of me, I couldn’t return to the agency. I couldn’t be someone else’s good girl. Not when every part of me wanted to belong to him and only -
I screamed at the knock on my window, the rush of adrenaline making me feel sick as my heart thumped way too fast. I rubbed at my chest, staring wide-eyed at Deacon standing next to my car.
My legs shaking, I shoved open the door and got out, grabbing the top of the car to steady myself. “What the hell, Deacon?”
“Hi,” he said.
“What are you doing here? It’s after midnight,” I said.
“I know. I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Did you forget about a thing called cell phones?” I asked. My heart was still thumping and bumping even though the adrenaline rush had faded. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“I wasn’t sure what time you finished work, so since about nine,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said. “This isn’t a safe neighbourhood. You could have been robbed while you were sitting in your car.”
He scowled. “You’re moving out of this neighbourhood, Riley. Immediately.”
I ignored him as I shut the car door and locked it. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“No,” he said. “We should talk now.”
“Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to?” I said.
“Do as I say, Riley.” I’d missed that familiar look of exasperation.
I straightened my back and gave him an impudent look. “I’m not your good girl anymore, Mr. Cross. I don’t have to do what you tell me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stared at me, and with giddy recklessness, I said, “You want to spank me right now, don’t you? Or maybe you just want to… how did you put it before…fuck the brat out of me.”
“Yes, and yes,” he bit out.
The recklessness still firmly in control, I said, “Then come upstairs and fuck me, Mr. Cross.”
I marched across the parking lot toward my apartment building. Deacon was right behind me, and he made a disapproving snort when I opened the broken lobby door without using a key.
We walked up the two flights to my apartment. My heartbeat was very loud in my ears, and that giddy impulsiveness still held me in its tight grip. I opened my apartment door, dropping my purse in the hallway before kicking off my boots and shrugging out of my jacket.
I could hear Deacon locking the door behind me and removing his coat, but I walked straight to my bedroom. By the time he joined me, I had taken off my butter-stained shirt and unbuttoned my pants.
“We need to talk, Riley.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck,” I said, a little amazed by my crudeness. But, hell, I missed Deacon’s touch, his kisses, and his beautiful cock with an unrelenting ache. So much so that I was more than willing to let him hate fuck me. I didn’t even feel a hint of shame at how pathetic that made me. I loved Deacon, and I would take him however I could get him.
I started to shove my pants down my legs when Deacon said, “Why didn’t you tell me your mother has cancer?”
I froze before pulling up my pants and buttoning them. “You really know how to ruin the mood, don’t you?”
I yanked on a shirt and pushed past Deacon. I stalked to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of wine, but before I could open it, Deacon took it from my hands.
“Give that back,” I snapped.
“Not until after we talk,” he said.
“Fine,” I said snottily. “Talk.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were using the money to help pay for your mom’s chemo?” he asked.
“How do you even know that?”
“Lina accidentally told me,” he said.
I sighed. “Why does it matter what I needed the money for, Deacon?”
“Because I…”
“Because you would have judged me less if it was for something like that than just consumer debt, right?”
He muttered a curse before raking his hand through his hair. “Yes, which makes me a total prick.”
“Yeah, it does,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for judging you, for not listening to you, for accusing you of manipulating me. It wasn’t fair of me to do that.”
“I didn’t want to charge you anymore,” I said. “I wanted to be with you because I…”
“Because you what?” he asked.
Fuck it, I was tired of pretending. “Because I fell in love with you.”
He stared silently at me, and I shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t have. I know you don’t feel the same, but I couldn’t help it. I fell ridiculously and hopelessly in love with you, and I hated that you were paying me to be with you, to fuck you. But I needed the money, and I couldn’t stand the thought of booking with someone else at the agency, not when I was in love with you.”
“Baby, I…”
“But I should have been truthful with you. I should have asked you if we could date for real, and I should have quit the agency and found someplace else to work that didn’t involve me getting on my damn knees. But I didn’t, and that’s on me.”
“No, baby.” He stepped forward and cupped my face, staring intently at me. “Don’t do that. None of this is your fault. You did what you had to do to help your family, and that’s… that’s noble.”
“Yeah,” I said with a snort, “fucking for money is so noble.”
“You did what you had to do,” he repeated. “I’m the asshole for judging you and for thinking you were anything other than what you are - an amazing, incredible woman who sacrifices everything for the people she loves.”
He rubbed his thumb across my sore bottom lip before sighing and dropping his hand. I immediately missed his touch, and when I made a weird half-lurch toward him, he quickly pulled me up against him, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed my forehead. “This isn’t an excuse for my behaviour, but it might explain my reaction if I tell you about Eloise.”
“Tell me,” I said. “I want to know.”