Chapter 13

To give the guard some semblance of privacy, I waited ten extra minutes before approaching the guard shack. But when I arrived, it didn't take long for me to wonder why I'd bothered.

After greeting me with a smile this side of creepy, he flicked his head toward the shack and asked, "So, you wanna go inside, check it out?"

I gave a mental shudder. No. Definitely not.

After all, I wasn't quite sure what he and the brunette had just done in there, but I did know that I wasn't eager to bask in the stale afterglow.

Still, I tried to smile. "No. But thanks." I glanced around. "We can talk out here, if that's all right."

"Aw come on," the guy said. "I got a space heater and everything." He lowered his voice. "Don't tell on me, but I also got half a bottle of merlot. You interested?"

Half a bottle? I could only guess who drank the first half. But it didn't even matter. I hated merlot. And even more so, I hated where this was going. "Actually," I said, "I'm just here to give you a heads-up."

He grinned. "So, you wanna give me head, huh?"

I drew back. "What?"

He gave a bark of laughter. "Sorry. Bad joke."

I bit my lip. "Uh, yeah."

"Although," he continued with a sly wink, "I'm not saying I'd turn you down."

I stared at the guy, wondering what on Earth I should say to that. The way he acted, this was my lucky day, like it was so hard to find a guy willing to accept an impromptu blow job.

It was definitely time to set him straight. Speaking very slowly and clearly, I said, "What I'm here to give you is a heads-up." I stressed the word, "up" and repeated it twice for good measure. "Up. Up. You heard me, right?"

"Oh, don't be like that," he said. "I was just kiddin' around." He glanced down at his crotch. "Not that I'd complain."

My jaw clenched. "Good to know."

He leaned forward. "Is it?"

I leaned back. "No."

For the briefest instant, I wondered if Zane Bennington might've been right all along in wanting to fire this guy.

But damn it, he couldn't be. Because Zane Bennington wasn't right about anything.

Still, in spite of my hatred for Zane, even I could see that I might've misjudged the guard at least a little.

Okay, a lot.

How depressing.

I tried to think. Maybe it wasn't so much that Zane was right. Maybe, it was just that, well, I might've been a teeny bit wrong.

See? That was totally different.

I looked to my car. "You know what? On second thought, I'd better get going."

The guy frowned. "Why?"

Because you're creeping me out, that's why.

But I didn't say it, because at this point, all I wanted was to be on my way.

Abruptly, the guy said, "You know, your hair looks a lot better tonight."

Obviously, he meant compared to last night, when he'd issued me the original parking pass to work at Zane's party. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I reached up to smooth my hair away from my face. I mumbled, "What?"

He was still looking at my hair. "Yeah, it's all long and pretty." He laughed. "Last night? Eh, it wasn't a good look. I'm not a fan of the bun, you know?"

I wasn't a fan of the bun either, but I had been dealing with food, which left two options – wearing a giant lunch-lady hairnet or wrapping my hair up in a tight bun. If the guy thought the bun was bad, I could only imagine what he'd think of the lunch-lady look.

But I didn't bother explaining. Instead, I muttered, "I've gotta go," and then, I turned away.

"Wait," the guy said. "Where ya goin'?"

I was already walking to my car. "Home."

Unable to take a hint, he turned and followed along beside me. "Hey," he said, sounding almost peeved now, "I let you in when I wasn't supposed to."

I kept on walking. "So?"

"So, you know how this works, right? I do you a favor. You do me a favor…"

Abruptly, I stopped and gave him a sharp look. "I don't get it," I said. "Earlier, you asked for my number, and you were actually pretty nice. And now you're all…" I let my words trail off, because I wasn't quite sure how to put this.

"Yeah," he said, "because your story was bullshit."

"What?"

He made a scoffing sound. "That whole 'I lost my phone' thing? What? You thought I bought that story?"

"It wasn't a story," I said. "It was true."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"It was," I insisted, and then immediately thought better of it. This guy didn't deserve an explanation, not anymore. I looked toward the guard shack. "And what were you doing in there, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"With that chick, the one who just left."

"Hey, that 'chick' knows how it works." Under his breath, he added, "Unlike you, who wants favors for free."

Unbelievable.

I said, "I thought you were just being nice."

"I was," he said. "So why don't you be nice to me?"

Ick. With a sound of disgust, I turned away, heading once again for my car.

And once again, the guy followed along beside me. "Hey," he said, "I'm sorry, all right? I was just kidding, like I said before."

Sure, he was. I kept on walking, barely listening as he blathered on about my apparent inability to take a joke.

When I reached my car, I pulled my keys from my pocket and jammed the car-key into the lock.

The guy said, "I could've been fired, you know."

I had to laugh, even as I yanked open my ugly, rusted car door. "Oh, I know."

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

There were so many ways I could've answered that question. I might've told him that it was absolutely hilarious that I'd spent any energy at all in trying to save his job when I'd lost my own job today.

I might've told him to enjoy the guard-station while he could, because it wasn't going to be his love-shack for much longer. I might've also told him that he was a giant douchebag and that he reeked of stale coffee and old cigarettes.

But I didn't say any of those things – not because I didn't have the nerve, but because a new voice sounded from the shadows.

It was Zane's voice, low and ominous, saying only two words. "Get out."