CHAPTER SEVEN
Holden
Damn, the wind could really grab hold of you when it skated past the side of a building, blindsiding you as it came on like a whip to knock you off your feet. I tucked deeper into myself, a cigarette hanging between my lips while I took a break out back from the constant noise of the diner. The glorified next generation was returning home to visit from college, and they all gravitated to the diner for an early meal before they went out to raise hell.
I just wanted the hours to pass and for my shift to be up. I needed to leave and get home to Deli. Needed to convince her to go visit our Uncle Scott for the holidays because two years was too long to be cooped up. The first year wasn’t her fault, she was still recovering, but now she was back to normal and still refused to leave the house. To step outside. To go back to school or make new friends. To accept the awful truth that our parents were gone and would never return home again.
Delilah had stopped dancing. She’d stopped twirling. She’d stopped spinning and laughing and grinning. Not because her body prevented her from doing so. It was the pain in her heart and the hatred in her mind that did that. All day, she waited inside that house, the injuries to her head having caused damage to her brain. She believed mom and dad would come home. She told me she knew she would see them soon.
I didn’t know how to help her, but I was trying. That’s why I was working at this run-down grease trap. It’s why I was still in Tranquil Falls and why I hadn’t yet abandoned what my life had once been in order to carve out a path of my own. Somebody had to take care of her, and since my parents were six feet under, that someone was me.
Dragging a cloud of slow death into my lungs, I watched the smoke blow out past my lips to collide with the cold night air. It twisted and turned until spinning in circles like my sister used to do. A voice called out to me from the back door, Kaley Smith peeking her head out to warn me my time was up. Tendrils of her blond hair had fallen loose from the long braid running down her back, her brown eyes twinkling beneath the exterior security lighting.
“Better get back inside. Angela’s going to tear a new hole in your butt if you’re late.”
Winking at Kaley, I dropped the cigarette down to the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of my boot. “Come here.”
Her lips pulled into a wry grin, her head turning so she could look over her shoulder and make sure nobody was around. Sneaking out, she closed the door quietly and ran into my arms.
Kaley was a good girl. She had a vibrant spirit and she was friendly despite her circumstances. Living in the servants’ quarters like me, she was three years older than I was.
We met when I first took this job, and I liked that she’d never attended Tranquil Falls High, that her house sat behind the district line that split my neighborhood between Tranquil Falls and Benson Ridge High. She had no ties to the town I couldn’t stand to live in, to the people who had destroyed my family and wandered off without uttering a word of apology for what they’d done. Kaley wasn’t my girlfriend, by any stretch of the imagination, she didn’t want labels or commitment, but she liked taking me home with her some nights to waste away a few hours.
Never longer than that, though. I wouldn’t spend an entire night away from home and leave Deli all alone.
My hand slid up to cup her breast from over her shirt. She giggled and kissed my neck. “Holden, stop. We’re going to get caught and then Angela will be gunning for us both.”
My lips slid along the line of her jaw, the tip of my tongue pushing out to taste her skin. “But it’s cold outside and you help me warm up.”
She laughed again, low and throaty, her hands clenching my hips as she pushed up to her toes to let me run my lips down the line of her neck. Biting softly where her neck met her shoulders, I appreciated the way she trembled. It sucked that I’d have to stop now before walking inside became uncomfortable.
“What are you doing after work tonight?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“Meeting up with you, I hope. But I work the late shift. What time do you get off?”
“As soon as you get to my house.”
My chest rumbled in response to her answer, my growl like rolling thunder as my cotton work pants suddenly became tight and restrictive. Nipping at her jaw, I lifted my head just enough to press my mouth against her ear, my breath hot against her skin chilled by the night air. “I mean, what time are you leaving here?”
Shivering at the depth of my voice, or maybe from the wind, she snuggled in closer to me, stealing my heat and using me as a wall to block her from the bitchslap of winter. “I know that’s what you meant, but I thought I’d take advantage and confirm that’s what we’ll be doing tonight.”
My hands took possession of her ass, tugging her closer, I showed her the answer to that question. “Yeah, if I’m able to walk there. Look what you’ve already done.”
A husky laugh shook her shoulders. “I leave here at eight. It’ll give me time to get cleaned up before you arrive.”
“Do whatever you need to do. I’ll just get you dirty again.” My mouth found hers, but she dodged away before I could lock down.
Slapping my chest, she pushed away from me and yanked my arm in the direction of the back door. “Dammit, Holden, you are a big, strong, beautiful body full of trouble, but no sense. We need to get inside before Angela starts yelling.”
Laughing, I replied, “I don’t care if Angela yells.”
“Yeah, I bet you don’t. You don’t care about anything.” Shaking her head, she turned to smile at me. “I don’t know how your mom survived raising you.”
Flinching at the comment, I pulled away from her. Kaley’s expression fell, her smile fading. “Shit. I’m sorry, Holden, I didn’t mean it like that. Come on. We need to get in there.”
Yeah. Back to work. Back to the place where I scrubbed and polished, flipped burgers and dropped fries in a vat of boiling oil that would block the arteries of all the spoiled kids who ate there. Often I envisioned them in forty years. Fat. Ruddy skin. Balding and unhappy. Just like their parents. It helped pass the time. Helped me choke down the fact that, in a way, I was working for them by cooking their meals and scraping their plates. Working for them, just like my mother and father.
A wave of greasy heat collided against my face as I walked in. Kaley disappeared around the corner of the right hallway, while I ducked left to stalk back to the dishwasher. A pile almost as tall as me was stacked up and I was glad I hadn’t been stuck cooking on such a busy, chaotic night.
Tying the black, vinyl apron on that did nothing to keep me dry, I slung plates and bowls, cups, forks and spoons through the machine, stacking them into their trays and shooting them down the conveyor belt that pulled the dishes through the hot water. Sliding over the floor mats, I caught them on the other end and stuck them on the next belt to dry. The cooks and servers would pull them from the racks on a night as busy as this, saving me the time of stacking them into orderly piles.
I heard Angela’s heavy feet stomp in behind me. She was checking to make sure I was on time returning from break, ensuring that every penny she paid me was for work and not messing around. I wanted to resent her for it, but there had been times I slacked off, especially when the confusion crept in carrying the darker thoughts alongside it.
Turning my head, I winked at her and smiled. She was an older woman with silver hair, huge breasts that could probably swallow a small child, and a sarcastic sense of humor that shone during the times she let it out. Always quick with a warning about timeliness or slacking, Angela was also a grandmother of three that insisted on mothering me when I was being a pain in her ass. She loved me, and I appreciated her for it, but that didn’t make working for her any easier.
“Hey, beautiful,” I called out. “Looks like you didn’t catch me this time.” Another wink had her blushing through her fake scowl. She never could stay mad at me.
I dropped the dishes from my hands and grabbed a hand towel to dry my fingers. Stepping over to her, I took her into a hug and squeezed.
Her fists beat on my shoulders with no strength. “What are you doing, Holden? Have you lost your mind?”
“I lose it every time I’m near you. When are you going to leave your husband for me?”
Laughter burst out of her mouth, loud and free, just like I loved it. Because laughter is one of those parts of life that should be free. It should be unrestrained and wild, with no rules or shadows to contain it. Laughter is never polite, it’s never prim and proper, at least not the kind of laughter that is worth a person’s time, the kind that sears a memory into your mind and makes your eyes water.
“Holden! Put me down and get back to work.” She tried to sound angry, but there was the residue of laughter still coating her words. “And don’t think I didn’t see you out back kissing on Kaley. You can’t have both women.”
A wolfish grin stretched my lips. “She’s just keeping me warm until you come along, the real prize.”
“Dammit, boy!” Her cheeks were bright red. “Get back to work. I’m not paying you to flirt with me.”
“You should. I’m a natural at it.”
Shuffling back to the machine before she could smack me on the shoulder, I was still chuckling when she walked off, probably in route to find somebody else who was slacking in their duties. Despite her iron rule over the diner, its employees and patrons, Angela Barrett was one of the people who helped save my life after the accidents happened, after the holiday season that gifted me with burials, hospitals and soul-crushing agony.
It took three months for Deli to recover enough for me to feel comfortable being away from her, two of those months laid up in the hospital, and one of them recovering from home.
At four months, Deli was getting around again, not laid up in her bed where I brought her all three meals of the day and played guitar to entertain her. I was an oldies person when it came to music, a guy who could always count on the classics, but Deli loved the modern pop songs, the kind sung by boy bands that had more talent prancing around stage in their choreographed dances than they ever would carrying a tune. I’d refused to learn the songs she loved before the accident, but afterwards I learned them all just so I could see her smile. I never knew if she was smiling because she loved the song, or if it was because she was laughing inside to hear me sing them.
Pop music and I did not get along.
After those four months, money was tight and there was nothing I could do to get more money out of Jack’s family. I’d wanted to sue, wanted to hurt them for everything they’d taken from me, but lawyers are a nasty bunch, which can make life convenient for the rich while singlehandedly destroying the poor.
The paid off cops lied and claimed my car was blocking the road. Jack’s attorneys were able to suppress the drug evidence. Jack walked away with a slap on the wrist for speeding, while Deli received what was left of the insurance money from my parents’ accident. Unfortunately, that was just enough to cover the medical bills and money to live on for a few months because my parents had run a red light trying to get to me.
When our money ran out, I’d set out on foot on a clear night that quickly crumbled, rain pouring down, drowning me as I sludged through a shortcut in the strip of woods outside my neighborhood. I’d crossed the tracks and walked up the main drive to apply at the diner. Water was dripping from my hair, my boots squeaked on the clean linoleum floor, my black t-shirt and black jeans clung to my body.
Angela had looked up from where she was standing behind the counter and tsked at me in disapproval. “Look what the weather dragged in. What can I get for you? Something to eat? To drink? A blow dryer and a towel? Don’t you have enough sense to carry an umbrella?”
It didn’t matter if you were a patron or employee, she told you exactly what she was thinking regardless.
“No, Ma’am,” I’d answered with chattering teeth. ”I’m here looking for a job.”
Her eyes had narrowed on me, she tsked again, and then snatched an application from beneath the counter. While I was filling out my personal information, she watched me closely, questions lingering between us that took three minutes for her to ask.
“I don’t mean to pry, young man, but aren’t you the boy that just lost his family?”
My teeth grit together, but I nodded. It had been all over the news, my face, Delilah’s and my parents’ plastered on television and on the front page of the paper, a tragedy worth the pens and voices of their highest paid reporters.
She’d snatched the paper away from me. When I looked up in question, my heart sinking because the diner had been the only shot at a job I’d had, she’d said, “You’re hired. When can you start?”
The rest was history, and during holiday and summer breaks when the kids I’d known were back in town from college, Angela made sure to tuck me in back just so those people couldn’t heckle me, shout insults, or cause problems. Tonight was one of those nights, the rich and entitled returning home to brag and compare notes about the next step in their lives that Deli and I had never taken.
Knowing they were out there didn’t bother me much, as long as I didn’t have to see them, but when I heard Angela come running back into the dish area, her steps hurried, her hands waving to get my attention, I had a feeling something bad just happened.
“Holden, make sure you stay back here and out of sight for the next hour or so, okay? There’s some people in the dining room you won’t want to see.”
She might like hiding me in back, but she’d never asked me to stay put before. Which meant...
“Jack Thorne is here, isn’t he?”
Angela nodded. “Him and Michaela Paige. I love you, Holden Bishop, but I don’t need trouble in my diner, so I want you to promise me you’ll stay back here.”
Her words hurt. I thought I’d proven myself over the last two years, that I had shed the reputation of being a crazy freak. “I won’t do anything to him.”
Something in my voice must have given away the hurt. Angela’s expression softened, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders as she craned her neck to look up at me. “I don’t think it’s you that will cause the problems. He’s the problem. I have no love in my heart for that boy out there, and if it did come down to a fight in the middle of the diner, I wouldn’t stop you from beating him senseless. He deserves it and much worse. But I don’t need that, you understand? I can’t afford it.”
My eyes darted to the window looking out over the main floor from the kitchen, my fingers curling into my palm as I breathed deeply. Hatred coursed through me, my shoulders tense beneath Angela’s nervous hands. But I wouldn’t cause trouble.
I wouldn’t.
I would just watch. I would listen. I would stay out of Jack’s way as long as he didn’t cause trouble first.
Those are always the famous last words, aren’t they?