Colin had been cool about paying my side of the bills, but he was probably at the end of that rope, and I couldn't blame him.
"Thanks for not kicking me out," I said. "I'll get back to work and try to pay back some of the money I owe you. It's just so fucking hard getting ahead." As I said it my mind went straight to Rachel. She was struggling, too, but she had way more responsibility. All I had was my sorry ass, and I'd stupidly pulled out the big cock card and told her I didn't like her working at the club. It was true, and even now, I had to force myself not to think about other men leering at her. I was an asshole. I had no right.
Colin's waffles popped up. He retrieved them from the toaster, drowned them in syrup and sat back down. "Do you think you can work?"
"I'm going to give it my best shot."
"Did you ever hear from her again?" Colin asked.
"Who?"
"The stripper. The woman you'd been seeing. Rachel." It took me several days before I could talk about that night. I'd finally let Colin know why I'd been acting like such a psycho. He seemed to get it. That was the way we worked. We were always on each other's side in any situation.
"Nah, it's over. She made that clear, and I think she had some rich dude on the side. He looked like a total dick, but she needs that kind of support. I can't give her that. She's got a kid."
"Shit, does she? You never said. Yeah, sounds like the rich guy is more what she needs."
He figured I was over her and that his comment wouldn't feel like someone had just hammered a nail through my chest. But I wasn't over Rachel. I had no choice but to forget about her, but it had been really fucking hard. I hoped getting back to work and life in general would help.
I carried my empty cup to the sink. Soft footsteps padded the hallway. Colin's friend had walked out of the bedroom wearing only one of his T-shirts. She walked right over and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Morning," she said sweetly.
Colin nodded. "Morning."
I exchanged glances with Colin as I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. He was going to have some major regrets about last night's decision. But he'd come out of it shiny and new. Shit always rolled off my brother, just like it always stuck to me.
The morning was cold and dreary as I headed out, but I was in a good place. I was getting back to work. My hand was white and wrinkled and looked like something that belonged on a store mannequin, but that didn't matter. I knew how to ignore and work through pain. After all, I was born a Wilde.
twenty-nine
. . .
Rachel
Carol's phone call woke me out of a deep sleep. It was gray outside, and dawn's light was too weak to poke through. I picked up the phone and flicked my thumb over the screen.
"Gosh, I'm sorry to wake you, Rachel." Carol sounded upset. "Could you please open up? I twisted my ankle last night at line dancing. I called Nora, but she said she woke up with a sore throat. She won't be in. So, it's just you and the new girl Peggy." Peggy was inexperienced. She was sweet, but she was still at that bring-the-plates-out-one-at-a-time stage, and it took her forever. "I'm afraid I'll need you to close, too. I really am sorry, Ray, and I promise a big bonus at the end of the year."
I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "I'll get in the shower right now."
"You're the best."
"Ice that ankle, right? One day on my own with butter-fingered Peggy might be my max."
"I'm sure I'll be right as rain tomorrow. Thanks again, Ray."
The apartment was so quiet I could practically hear the time change on the microwave clock. Jack had come down with a cold, and Mom followed right behind. Flu season was in full rage, and now it seemed Nora was going to be out for a fewdays, too. I couldn't allow myself to get sick and told my immune system just that.
I got ready quietly and left a note for Mom. Mom had promised Jack that they'd spend the day in pajamas reading stories and drinking chicken soup. Jack wasn't much into chicken soup, but Mom built it up as a magic elixir that only little boys lucky enough to wear pajamas all day could have. He went to bed dreaming about chicken soup with alphabet noodles.
The roads felt eerily quiet for a Monday. That flu was wiping out the entire workforce. I'd noticed the construction site across the street had far fewer trucks recently, and we'd had less diners because of it. Today I was thankful for that. A packed dining room would have been chaotic and impossible with just Peggy by my side.
I pulled up to the diner. It looked like there were even less trucks at the site across the road. It was as if a black plague had swept through town, leaving only shadows and misery in its wake. An odd green car, an old Chevy with plenty of rust and a dented bumper, was parked out front of the diner. I wouldn't have noticed it except it wasn't the first time I'd seen it. I saw a light on in the kitchen. Hank had gotten in early. I wondered if that meant Kyle, his new kitchen assistant, had called in sick, too. Kyle was just a few steps above Peggy in helpfulness. But he was pretty good at chopping vegetables, and Hank insisted that was the only skill he needed to be helpful.
I walked quickly to the front door. Hank had locked it behind him, which I expected. The cold made my fingers clumsy, and I dropped the keys. I stooped down to pick them up, and as I lifted my gaze, I met the dark, mean stare of the man in the green Chevy. There were two men in the backseat as well. The man lifted a lip and sneered at me.
I fumbled nervously with the keys, but there was nothing worse than cold, trembling fingers when you were trying to geta key in a lock. I glanced back at the car. The man was still sneering. His ugly stare had me so freaked out, I hadn't noticed the tall figure walking across the street in the cloudy shadows.
I sucked in a breath. I hadn't seen him in weeks. He still stole my breath. Ronan walked to stand between me and the car. He turned toward the car, crossed his arms and glared hard at the man behind the wheel. The man started the choppy, weak motor and pulled away, leaving behind the stink of burning oil.