Chapter Four
Paige
Caleb had been on my mind all day. He shouldn’t have been, but something about him pulled at me, even during my busy shift at the bar on a Friday night. But, since it was my fifteen-minute break, it meant I had time to think about him. And I was trying really hard not to since my first impression of Caleb had been that he was one of them.
He fit the description of a lethal man. Tall, stoic, and muscles not even a long-sleeved sweater could hide. His beanie had been pulled so low, it covered his ears. I was always suspicious of these kinds of men. But then he’d smiled at me, and I had been thrown off. In the years I’d lived in fear of them finding me, I’d never imagined them to be the smiling kind.
“Ugh.” Chelsey breathed, dropping into a chair at the small table across from me.
She was the stunning, long-legged bartender I assisted on most days and my closest friend. Well, as close as I’d let her get. We were always both too busy working to have a normal friendship. So, apart from hanging out once every month or so, we bonded behind the bar. I ensured the glasses were cleaned, the garbage was empty, and the kegs were full while she ensured the drinks tasted good and the clients were happy.
I smiled. “Well, you’re back here, so that’s a good sign.”
“I know, but it’s going to pick back up any second.” She leaned forward, positioning her elbows on the break table with her smartphone in front of her face. “Ian is planning something for my birthday; I just know it. But I don’t know what it is yet. Has he said anything to you?”
I grinned. “You mean, in the two seconds I see him when he comes to pick you up from work?”
“Smart-ass,” Chelsey uttered, getting up to grab her purse from the locker. “Did you work a shift at the gym today? You look tired, more than usual.”
“So I’ve heard,” I muttered as Caleb’s brown eyes and messy black hair came to mind. “But no. Just a long night. Although, I did spend a few hours working out before my shift here.”
“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.” She set her purse down, pulled out a mirror, and reapplied her bright red lipstick. “That weirdo has been asking about you again.”
“Mark?” I face-palmed myself. “He’s, like, thirty.”
“Yeah.” Chelsey laughed. “But he’s also one of our biggest tippers.”
“That means you should let him down the easy way. If I tell him, our tips might stop coming.” I chuckled, remembering another lurker I’d given a bloody nose after he grabbed my ass.
Chelsey threw her head back, laughing. I assumed the same memory was playing in her head.
“That was a great night. You never did take up John’s offer for the security position.”
“Shut up. That isn’t funny. Anyway, my break’s over,” I said, standing and shoving my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
It was college night, and after St. Andrews won against Dodson, the bar was rowdier than usual. Dodson, the losing university, was the school I attended.
My part-time position as a bar runner at Stilts was my second and most important job. For one, it was physically demanding, which posed as a distraction to it—the crippling thoughts that could take over my mind at any given second. This job also paid more than the gym, so I had money for my rent and an extracurricular activity. Precisely, my membership at the gun range.
Before I’d left my community home at eighteen, I had been told about a college fund that had been set aside for me. That confused me more because, supposedly, Leanne and David Sawyer weren’t my real parents as everyone had kept telling me; they were my kidnappers. So I’d decided against accessing the fund even though I was struggling to pay tuition. It might have been stupid to turn down free money, but I knew the men could find me that way. And not only that, but I’d also started to question everything about my past when I was in the community home because, if there was the smallest chance these people were my kidnappers, I didn’t want any of their hand-me-downs.
But I still didn’t want to believe it. My parents wouldn’t have kidnapped me.
“Shit. Paige!” said the new bartender. “I need you to change out the ice.”
It was the second time tonight she’d broken a glass in the ice bin, but I didn’t mind the extra hassle. It kept me busy.
“Got it.” I finished rinsing the glass in hand and then stacked it.
I went over to the ice bin. Pulling out a bucket I’d stashed under the counter because I knew the high chance of the incident happening again, I began to scoop ice into the bucket. After rushing through the cleaning process and refilling the ice bin with fresh ice, I pulled a filled garbage bag from the container and emptied it in the back alley’s dumpster. As I turned and hurried to get inside, back to the bar, I bumped into someone. Not bumped, but more like ran into a brick wall that was also human. A human brick wall.
What the hell?
Coming to my senses, I stepped back to gain a better stance and apologize. But he was gone. As fast as he’d obstructed my path, he’d disappeared. The only people in the back alley were a group of five smokers—two males, and one possibly the human brick wall. But they were turned away from me, and it was too dark to make out any of them. A chill shot down my spine, and I hurried to the back door, yanking it open.
Shaking the nerves crawling over me, I distracted myself—changing kegs, grabbing cases of beer, collecting and washing all the glasses, replenishing liquors in the well, wiping down the counters, refilling garnish trays, washing more glasses, refilling the ice bin, and emptying the trash . . . damn it.
“Paige,” a male called over the loud music and chatter in the bar.
I turned to see Chelsey’s boyfriend, Ian, who was waving at me from across the counter. Holding up a finger in a signal for him to wait, I grabbed the trash and headed to the back door. Ian was a lifesaver, only because I needed him. Chelsey had told me that she suspected he’d been cheating on her due to his change in behavior over the past year. Like him blowing her off when she needed him. But like everyone else, he was on my Do Not Trust list—though temporarily cleared for the few minutes it would take for me to throw this bag in the dumpster.
He followed me to the back, and after lobbing the bag up into the dumpster, I walked over to him.
“What’s up?”
“Chelsey’s birthday. We’re throwing her a surprise party.”
“Really? Nice. Where?”
Parties—or any social event for that matter—weren’t my thing. Places like those are where people talked and bonded, and I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay in the shadows where I was less likely to be noticed. But Chelsey was my closest friend, so it was either I sucked it up when it came to the few times she wanted to hang out each year or lose her.
“Our apartment.”
“Cool. I’ll stop by. You’ll have to give me the address, though.” I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“You’ve known each other for two years,” Ian said.
“So?”
He shook his head, taking my phone. “You girls are weird.”
“Not weird. We are cool that way.”
“If you say so.” He stared down, entering the address on the screen. “Are you still single?”
His question caught me by surprise. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re a great friend to her.” He handed my phone to me and touched my chin before he dropped his hand to his side. “And a cute girl.”
I paused, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
There was either something seriously wrong with the atmosphere in the alley or I was losing it. No, he’d touched me. Guys didn’t just do that. I might be inexperienced but not so much that I didn’t know when I was being hit on. Or was I being delusional? I—no. My chest tightened, butchering my oxygen flow.
Everything today had been strange.
The mysterious Caleb. Running into the human brick wall who disappeared, and now, thinking my best friend’s boyfriend is flirting with me. What was wrong with me?
I hurried by Ian, muttering, “I won’t say anything about the party.”
I needed to try to get some sleep when I got off work, but if I was already like this, tonight wouldn’t be a good night for sleep either.