CASEY
Living in Los Angeles is something people all over the world dream about; the beaches, the glitz, the glamour, the lifestyle. All these things were all a lie though.
Sure, some people got to live in Beverly Hills or Bel-Air – well away from the true reality of day to day life in the City of Angels. The wealthy elite got to enjoy their brunches and shopping trips on Rodeo Drive.
Others, like my family though, were scraping and clawing to survive. Given the chance, I would have left town in a heartbeat. But, being born and raised in Southern California – and with my family stuck here – it made the idea of packing up and getting out incredibly hard.
Impossible, actually.
For the present, and the foreseeable future, I was stuck in a small, cramped, shitty two-bedroom apartment in Echo Park. It wasn't exactly the glamorous part of Los Angeles. It definitely wasn't the idealized image of LA people have in their minds. There's no glitz or glam to be found in Echo Park.
But then, not even Hollywood was really what tourists expected it to be. Tinsel Town was dirty, filled with broken dreams, and the wreckage of ruined lives. The homeless and addicted littered the streets, and you didn't want to be caught in Hollywood at night – not unless you knew where you were going and could get there quickly.
Hollywood was where most dreams came to die. Or maybe, I was just being cynical.
My sixteen-year-old sister, Sierra, was at the kitchen table doing homework when I woke up that afternoon. When I glanced at the clock, I knew my fourteen-year-old brother, Nick, was at basketball practice. I always knew where they were and had their schedules down cold.
“How's Mr. Peabody doing? Is he still teaching biology?” I asked Sierra.
I stood there, staring into a empty fridge. Shopping didn't get done, go figure. My stomach growled, and eventually I made some toast. There was no jelly, since we were out. Of course. Margarine was all we had. Great. I sighed and dropped a couple slices of bread into the toaster.
“Yeah, he's still a hardass,” she said, taking her headphones off.
She stared back at me with the sweetest, most innocent looking face I'd ever seen on another human being. A lot of people said we looked alike, and maybe we did back when I was her age. Before life started getting to me and piling on the worries. But, I couldn't remember – or even imagine – ever looking as sweet and innocent as my little sister.
“He's a hardass because he cares about you, chica,” I said, ruffling her hair. “Thinks you have what it takes to make something of yourself. I do too, by the way.”
Her hair was the same dark brown, bordering on black, as mine, except, hers was long and straight, where mine was thick and wavy. Unruly at times. I always thought she got the better end of the stick in the hair department.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sierra said, laughing.
My toast popped up and I buttered it, before putting it on a plate and joining my sister at the table. I snacked on my lunch/dinner combo before I had to head into work.
I dug into my pockets and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, all that I had left over after paying the bills. I handed it over to Sierra with a sigh.
“Here, get you and Nick something to eat for dinner,” I said. “A pizza or something.”
Sierra looked at the money, then back at me. She didn't take it and a sorrowful expression crossed her face.
“I hate taking your money, sis.”
“You need to eat.”
“So do you.”
“I'm eating, aren't I?” I held up my toast and gave her a smile I hoped didn't look as fake as it felt. “Besides, I can always grab something at the club. You guys can't.”
“Mom said she's going to the store tomorrow.”
“That's tomorrow. You need dinner tonight,” I said and forced the money into her hand. “Speaking of which, do you know when mom's getting off work?”
Sierra shrugged and went back to her homework, slipping her headphones back into place. Music was her escape, as it had been mine at her age. I stared at my sister for a long time, watching her study. Sierra was smart, and I prayed every single day that she'd get a scholarship and get into a good school or something. Anything to get her out of this shithole and into a better life.
Nick had his athletic ability which could take him places, and Sierra her brains. I wanted to believe that I only had to do this for a few more years. After that, both of them would be adults. Hopefully they'd both be off at college somewhere, and I'd be free. Free to live my own life and do what I wanted to do. The sound of something heavy crashing down came from the other room, followed by the distinctive noise of something breaking and glass shattering. My dad's voice called out for my mother and I felt my heart sink a little lower in my chest.
“Maria?” he bellowed. “Where the hell are you?”
Sierra looked up from her textbook, a look of fear in her eyes.
“Maybe you should go study in your room,” I said quietly, hoping to avoid drawing our father's attention.
She nodded and quickly picked up all of her things before hustling to the bedroom she shared with Nick. Mom and I also shared a room – dad usually slept in the living room. He had apparently just woken up for the day in a foul mood. Not that it was all that surprising. That was his usual mood.
At least I worked all night and missed most of his angry rantings and ravings about this thing or that thing, about whatever injustice he felt was inflicted upon him, or who was trying to screw him over for one reason or another. My dad hadn't worked in years – not since sustaining an injury that left him in constant and chronic pain. Ever since then, he did nothing around the house but bitch and complain and drive all of us crazy.
“MARIA!” Dad's voice called out, echoing around the house.
I shouted back at him. “She's at work.”
I put my plate in the sink, adding it to the pile already in there. No time to wash dishes now, I just wanted to get the hell out of here. Dad pulled himself into the kitchen and walked over to the sink and grabbed a dirty glass.
I turned and hastily rushed toward the door, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but he stopped me.
“Where do you think you're going?” he snapped.
“To work,” I said.
“Dressed like that?”
I turned and found Dad somewhat sober – which was a rarity – leaning against the kitchen sink. His hair had gone gray a few years ago, and now it looked like it was falling out in patches. His eyes were sunken in, the dark circles beneath them seemed permanent, and deep lines were etched into his face. He looked rough. Hardened.
Drinking and drugs aged a person prematurely. That wasn't a secret. Seeing it up close and personal though, that only seemed to drive the point home even more. If seeing my dad looking twenty years older than he actually was wasn't a deterrent for me to avoid drugs and alcohol, I didn't know what was.
“It's my work uniform,” I said.
“Oh, so my daughter is a hooker now,” he sneered. “Great.”
“I'm not a –” I stopped right there and bit back the scathing reply that was on my lips.
Clenching my fists at my side, I reminded myself that it would do no good to argue with him. He enjoyed tearing us down. Enjoyed getting a rise out of us. This was entertainment for him. This was how he liked to spend his day. Which, of course, was a testament to just how sad and small his life had become. I turned on my heel, ready to head out that door, but his voice stopped me. Again.
“I always knew you'd be a whore,” he said, a sneer even in his voice. “Always did like the boys a little too much.”
Tears burned in my eyes, but I was determined to not let them fall. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing his words affected me. It's what he craved. I hesitated at the door, still considering turning around and giving him a piece of my mind. But, I knew that's what he wanted and that it would only leave me in tears. I had to get to work. I couldn't show up with my makeup streaming down my face, nor could I afford to be that upset and emotionally volatile on the floor. Not after Leon had given me a final warning about my attitude.
I couldn't deal with him. Not today. I was too tired after working six days in a row – and with at least three more days to go before I'd get a day off. Stupid special event. But, at least the pay was good. At least the rent was paid for the next month. At least I had money to give to Sierra for food, because God knew, Dad wasn't going to feed them.
The echo of sirens drifted down the street as I walked out of the building. Part of me would love to say ‘fuck it all’, keep on walking and never turn back. But, then a car pulled up and my little brother Nick climbed out of the backseat, a huge smile on his face. He was getting so big that some days, I still couldn't believe he was my little brother. As I looked at him, I knew I could never walk out on them. No matter how much I loathed my dad and living where we were. I reminded myself as I looked at him, that I only had a few more years until I could be free of all of this.
A few more years, I told myself, feigning a smile for my little brother as we passed each other in the driveway. Just a few more years and I could leave this shithole forever.
~ooo000ooo~
“You look tired, Casey,” Tommy said as I clocked in for work.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I snapped. He laughed and nodded, obviously anticipating the verbal jab. “You okay?”
I sighed. “I've worked six days in a row with about four hours sleep a night,” I said. “So yeah, I'm a little bit tired.”
Tommy leaned down on the bar, a devious look in his eyes. “I could talk to my dad about letting us have the night off.”
“With you? No thanks, I'd rather work,” I said, rolling my eyes. “At least I'm getting paid to be treated like shit here.”
Tommy's smirk faltered, and that dark look passed behind his eyes. I'd hurt his ego, which was an easy thing to do. Just turning him down seemed to be a gigantic blow to Tommy's pride. He wasn't a man who took rejection well. Probably wasn't used to it. Tommy seemed like the kind of guy who always got what he wanted, especially where women were concerned. That's probably what fed his God complex and made him think he walked on water.
Leon's shrieking voice echoed through the club. “Casey, what are you doing just standing there? Sasha needs to clock out, and the dishes in the back won't do themselves.”
I groaned. Dishes. Yes. Ever since Raya had flounced out of there, the wait staff had to take turns playing the part of dishwasher. If you looked like you weren't busy, or your section thinned out, you'd be sent back to do the dishes. Even though I'd just clocked in literally thirty seconds ago, Leon thought I should already be taking drink orders. How dare I stand around for even a second?
“Guess I'm in the back for a bit,” I grumbled.
Being in the back had its perks – like not having to deal with Leon's shit – but, it also meant no tips. Sure, I'd get paid minimum wage, but the tips were my bread and butter. They were the only real reason I needed to stick it out at this job out.
“Listen, if you'd like, I can handle the dishes for you tonight,” Tommy said.
I studied his face carefully. “Really?” I put my hands on my hips, searching for the hidden strings. “And what's it going to cost me?”
“Not a thing,” he said.
“Uh huh.” I knew Tommy too well for this.
He wasn't about to help out and do something he considered beneath him like dishwashing without a favor in return. Tommy wasn't an altruistic man. He never did things just out of the goodness of his heart. There was always an angle he was playing. “Spill it, Tommy,” I said. “Who knows, I may even consider your proposition. As long as it doesn't include sexual favors. You can take that off the table right now.”
“Seriously, Casey,” he said, shaking his head. “Can't I just want to help? We have more than enough bartenders tonight. It's slow, and you'd be better used on the floor. I can get my hands dirty sometimes.”
Huh. I was actually left a little speechless. Floored, might have been the better word. It's not something I ever expected out of him. Maybe Tommy wasn't so bad after all. At least, sometimes. Unless this was a trick. Either way, I could go along with it for now. I needed the tips.
“Thank you, Tommy,” I said. “That's really generous of you and I really appreciate it. I'll let your dad know you're heading back.”
He nodded and went back to the kitchen without another word. Two birds with one stone. Not only did I get out of dishwashing, I wouldn't have Tommy in my hair all night. Win-win for me. With people already filing into the club and the crowd growing, the night was already starting to show promise. “Casey, I said – ” Leon was right behind me now, his voice making my ears ring
I turned on my heels and stopped him. “Tommy offered to do dishes,” I said. “I'm on the floor. Heading over to relieve Sasha now.”
“Tommy's doing dishes?” he asked, looking completely taken aback.
Hell, nice to see that even old Leon could still be surprised now and then. He looked about as shocked as I felt when Tommy had offered.
“Yep, go ask him yourself if you don't believe me,” I said.
“I might just do that,” he grumbled, trying to quickly compose himself. “But for now, take Sasha's section. Only a few people over there, but they're big spenders – so be on your best behavior.”
Yeah, don't go off on them and tone down the sarcasm. That's what he really meant. We shared a look and I smiled sweetly at him, giving him my best angelic face – an act he clearly wasn't buying, given the sour look on his puss.
“Of course, Leon,” I said anyway. “When am I not?”
“Don't make me answer that.”
He turned and escaped to the back, and just in case Tommy wasn't getting his hands wet in the sink, I hurried off to the section I was assigned. Sasha had her hands full – the poor girl really didn't know how to work a crowd. Not even a small one. I often wondered why she was hired in the first place, but then she'd turn around and show off her D-cup breasts which rested on a tiny size two waist and the answer was more than obvious.
She didn't have to be smart, she just had to look good in the outfit and not fight with the customers. That should be easy enough, I supposed. But hell, even I couldn't handle that last bit half the time. Some of these pricks just need to be put in their places.
“Alright, girly, you're off the clock,” I said.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “A couple rich guys just sat down at that table near the corner. They're just so crude and disgusting. I can't stand them.”
My eyes drifted over toward where Sasha was pointing, and I recognized them instantly. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
“Yeah, I'm familiar with them,” I said. “The blonde guy isn't too bad though, honestly.”
“That's Malcolm Crane, right?”
I nodded. “He's less of an ass than his friend.”
Sasha shrugged. “If you say so. Personally, I think a person's choice of friends says a lot about them.”
Maybe she was right, I thought to myself. Or maybe, it was just an overly-simplistic generalization to make. Personally, I hated to think Malcolm was anything like Greg. In the few, brief interactions we'd had, he seemed to be a decent enough guy. But then, I also barely knew him. Anybody can appear to be decent enough within a small enough sample size.
“You better clock out before Leon throws a fit,” I said. “You know how he feels about overtime.”
Sasha walked off toward the timeclock in the back, leaving me to face the table alone. Greg grinned at me as I approached while Malcolm kept his head down, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand.
“Can't stay away for me, huh?” I teased. “Not even on a Monday evening. I'm flattered, boys.”
I stared at Malcolm, and only Malcolm, when I spoke. He finally looked up from his iPhone to meet my gaze. He flashed me a crooked little smile and there was a strange gleam in his eyes.
“You make it hard to stay away,” he said.
Greg looked at his friend, then back at me, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. For once, he seemed unsure of what to say. Hell, so was I. I didn't expect Malcolm to hit on me or say anything even remotely flirty. That was usually Greg's game.
“The usual for you guys?” I said, clearing my throat.
Malcolm gazed at me with a fierce intensity and I felt the heat creeping into my cheeks. Beneath his scrutiny, I knew I'd be turning a very unnatural shade of red if I didn't get out of there soon. The last thing I wanted them to think was that they intimidated me in any way. I was the tough and unflappable girl. The girl with the sharp with and even sharper tongue. That was my MO and I needed them to keep thinking that.
“Yes, the usual for me,” Malcolm said.
His deep, blue eyes were so intense, I felt like I was drowning in them. A girl could very easily get lost in eyes like that and never find her way out. I swallowed, my words getting stuck in my throat and my thoughts getting muddled in my brain.
Damn, he was having an effect on me.
“And I'll have the same as him,” Greg said.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, having forgotten that there was anyone else at the table for a second. I quickly composed myself as Malcolm averted his gaze, turning back to his phone.
“Girlfriend checking up on you,” I said, my mouth suddenly feeling parched.
“Nah, I'm actually – well, never mind.”
Greg cleared his throat and jumped in with a wicked little grin on his face. “Malcolm is single now. That's why we're coming here a little more often, if you hadn't noticed. He's trying to hook up with someone.”
Malcolm cringed and put his phone away. “I'm not trying to 'hook up' with anyone, Greg.”
“Then what are you doing on Tinder?”
“Tinder, huh?” I chuckled. “And here, I thought all the decently attractive, successful men had their own dating app out there, somewhere. Because God knows, you can't find anyone decent on Tinder.”
Greg butted in, flashing me a devious little smile. “Or maybe your standards are too high.”
I shrugged, giving Greg a dirty look. “Maybe so, but I'd rather have high standards than STD's,” I shot back at him. Something flickered within Greg's eyes. His teasing little smirk was suddenly replaced by a look that sent a cold chill sliding all the way down my spine. I stepped back from the table as his eyes darkened as he stared at me. He looked me up and down, undressing me with his eyes, a salacious expression on his face.
It wasn't that I wasn't used to men looking at me like that – it was one of the hazards of my job. But the way Greg was looking at me was different. His look, and the way he licked his lips, said that whether I liked it or not, he was picturing me naked and probably doing things I'd never do. At least, not with him. The expression on his face told me that to him, I was nothing but a set of tits and a vagina. A toy. Something for his amusement.
Clearly, I'd stepped out of line finally, or maybe Greg was just having a bad day. Either way, I didn't want to stick around and find out. I just wanted to be away from Greg.
“I'll get your drinks,” I said quickly.
I hurried away from their table, feeling Greg's eyes on me the entire time. I walked over to the bar and shuddered, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly as I tried to compose myself. Tommy stepped out of the back and poured himself a drink. “What's wrong, hot stuff?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, giving my order to one of the other bartenders.
“Sure as hell looks like something crawled up your ass.”
“I said, nothing is wrong, Tommy.”
My voice came out harsher than I'd intended. Even Tommy didn't deserve the full brunt of my anger and I felt bad immediately after the words passed my lips.
First my dad. Then Greg. Now Tommy. I'd had enough with men in general and considering the fact that I still had an entire shift to work, I needed to keep it together. I couldn't go off on anyone tonight. Not if I wanted to keep my job.
“Hey, I did you a favor,” Tommy said. “Don't forget that.”
“You said I didn't owe you anything for it,” I snapped, still unable to keep my temper in check, even knowing he didn't deserve it. “If I knew you'd hold it over my head, I'd have done the damn dishes myself.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you do owe me, Casey,” Tommy said and glared at me.
“I don't owe you shit,” I muttered, grabbing the drinks the other bartender had prepared.
I turned to walk away but felt a hand on my ass. I froze in place, drinks in hand, as Tommy's hand moved up my skirt, sliding up the back of my thigh and cupping my ass cheek in his hand. He leaned in close to me, the smell of vodka on his breath as he whispered into my ear.
“If you want to keep your job, you sure as shit owe me, Casey.”
My entire body trembled, tears welled in my eyes, and I risked dropping the drinks. Instead of dropping them though, I pulled away from Tommy's grasp, turned around quickly and threw them in his face.
“Don't you dare lay a hand on me again, asshole!”
Tears stained my cheeks as I flailed, lashing out at Tommy. He held his hands out, doing his best to hold me back, but I scratched and beat at them. I kept struggling and fighting, even as he lifted me off the ground. He was carrying me into the back, but I continued fighting, my vision nearly going black with rage. Nothing else mattered in that moment except for getting the hell away from him.