“You’re joking, right?” I turned to Karlie.

She winced.

“I mean, we do need another employee …”

West jerked his chin behind my back, focusing on my best friend now. “Let’s take this somewhere private.”

“Hop on in through the door.”

For the next few minutes, time moved sideways. Karlie and West scurried to the back of the truck while I stayed at the window, serving customers. Ten minutes later, Karlie came out of the truck, peeled off the want ad, and slipped back in.

“Congratulations! You have a new coworker,” she sing-songed, shuffling back to the grill, flipping a piece of fish that was ten minutes past charred.

I ignored her, preparing tacos as fast as I could and internally convincing myself my life was not over and West St. Claire wasn’t going to kill me as some part of an elaborate bet.

“Shaw, did you hear me?” The whitefish Karlie was flipping kept breaking into small, mushy pieces. I was hot, sweaty, madder than a wet hen, and full of dark, bitter sludge. I was pretty sure if I cut myself open with the knife I was holding to pierce the bag of shredded cheese, that’s what I’d see. Black goo slithering from my veins.

“Loud and clear. I just thought you’d let me weigh in on this, seeing as I’ll be the one workin’ with your replacement.”

“Hear me out. He is Sheridan’s most notorious college hottie. He could bring a ton of customers to the truck. I couldn’t say no, and I knew you’d be iffy about it.”

“Right.” I leaned forward, handing a customer his burnt fish taco with a fake smile. When I’d finished high school, I’d been on the fence about attending college. My instincts told me to hide from the world, slink back to the shadows and live in solitude. But I quickly learned that I didn’t have much choice. I had to get out there and make money. Since I was already saddled with the inconvenience of showing people my face, I figured college was a practical, albeit cruel, solution to securing a decent job.

“He wants a job, does he?” I was on a roll. “I bet he desperately needs the money, seein’ as he ain’t cashin’ in at the Plaza.”

I knew West St. Claire made bank from those fights. Rumor was he’d made eighty grand last year at the Plaza, between selling tickets, taking bets, and charging a fortune for watered-down beer.

“I asked him about that. He said he needed to supplement his income.”

“He needs to supplement his manners,” I retorted.

“Why? Was he mean to you?” Karlie’s brows slammed together.

Just thinking about last night infuriated me. I looked away, changing the subject.

“And anyway, what do you mean, you knew I’d be iffy about it?”

“Come on.” She threw her arms in the air like we both knew the answer to that question.

“Come on, what?”

“Seriously? Fine. I’ll go ahead and say it. But promise you won’t get mad.”

“I won’t get mad.”

I was already fuming.

“Well, the truth is, you tend to be intimidated by people, Shaw. Then you go and base your opinion of them on what you think they’re like.”

“Am not!”

“Do too. Look at you. You’re livid because I hired someone you don’t even know just because he’s got a reputation. Guess what? We all have a reputation. Sorry, Grace, but it’s true. I’m the brainiac know-it-all with the nineties obsession; you’re the emo girl with the scar. We’re all categorized. Stereotyped by our flaws and weaknesses. Welcome to life. It’s a bitch and then you die.”

Fearing I’d say something I’d regret, I kept my mouth shut. Karlie stopped tossing extra-dead fish, spun, and clasped my shoulders, forcing me to face her. She massaged my deltoids through my pink hoodie.

“Look at me, Shaw. Are you listening?”

I offered her a grunt.

“Maybe he is nice.”

“Chances are he is evil.”

I knew I was letting my insecurities get the better of me, but based on his looks, reputation, and social status, West St. Claire was a perfect candidate to ruin my life.

“If he’s evil after the first shift, let me know and I’ll give him the boot. No questions asked. Not even one.” Karlie forced me into a handshake, making a one-sided deal with me. “You have my word. I know you think I’m starstruck, but to me he’s just a fellow student lookin’ to make an extra buck. I’m drowning in schoolwork and my internships are going to take the front seat once we finish this year. I need this. Now can you stop sulking?”

Unfortunately, Karlie made sense. West hadn’t technically wronged me. If anything, he’d given me one heck of a tip and hadn’t even asked for it back.

“Fine.”

She grinned, turning me back to the line of people waiting for their food.

“That’s my girl. Quick, tell me if you can see him in the parking lot. I asked if he could start today and watch me work the grill, but he said he had plans. Is he still around?”

I craned my neck, humoring her reluctantly. I spotted him straight away, the side effect of him being a head taller than the rest of humanity. He was leaning against his red 2016 Ducati M900 Monster, his Wayfarer sunglasses intact.

I recognized the girl with him, even from the back. Raven hair, endless tanned legs, and the same tiny shorts that couldn’t cover a pencil. Tess. She talked to him animatedly, flinging her hair and giggling. They’d probably spent the night together. West didn’t respond to whatever she was saying. He turned around, slapped a helmet over her head in one rough movement, buckled it around her chin, and hopped on the motorcycle. She slid behind him, snaking her arms around his torso.

He took one of her hands and placed it over his crotch.

“Yup. About to ride into the sunset, or closest STI clinic, with Tess Davis.” I accidentally crushed a crunchy taco shell as they zipped through the parking lot, clouds of dust curtaining their figures.

Karlie made a face. “She always draws the best bull. I wonder who he’ll do next?”

Hopefully his hand. We don’t want any mini-Wests populating our planet.

I spent the next five hours listening to Karlie pondering West’s taste in women, serving people, and obsessing over the disastrous turn my life had taken.

When I opened the truck’s doors to leave, a pair of ballet shoes sat on the stair. I picked them up, frowning. They were around my size, brand-new, but out of the shoebox. There was a note stuck to them, scribbled lazily.