Three Broken Promises
Page 8

“Can’t take what anymore?” I finally ask, my voice cracking. I almost sound like I’m ready to break down and cry.
“Jen can’t take being in love with you when you don’t feel the same.” She peers at me with those all-seeing eyes. I don’t know how Drew can stand it sometimes. Her unconditional love knows no bounds for him but Fable’s gaze is damn near penetrating and I want to squirm where I stand, like a little kid caught doing something bad. “So. Do you feel the same? Or are you just stringing her along?”
“I—”
“If you say ‘I don’t know,’ I swear to God, I will knee you in the balls.”
Swallowing hard, I realize my voice has up and disappeared. I don’t doubt Fable’s threat for a second. My balls are shriveling up in fear at this very moment, for the love of God.
“I know I’m crossing the boss-employee line but you need to hear this, Colin. And I think you get that, too. That’s why you’re not saying a word. Why you’re not getting pissed at me for being such a rude little bitch and calling you out on your shit.” Fable steps closer, scaring the hell out of me, but I stand my ground, bracing myself for the next round of physical blows.
But she delivers it with words instead.
“If you don’t want Jen to leave, then you need to find those balls you’re so afraid I’m going to demolish, man up, and tell her. Don’t let her go. Tell her how you feel.”
Ah, she makes it sound so easy when it’s so . . . not. “She’s already looking for another job,” I protest weakly. “She wants to go apartment hunting this week. Roommate hunting.”
“Excuses.” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. “But hey, if you’re willing to let her go that easily, then by all means, go for it. Encourage her, then. Help her out—make it easier for her and get her out of your life once and for all.” Fable rolls her eyes and laughs, though there’s no humor behind it. “Don’t you ever wonder why you can’t let her go? Don’t you realize how you eventually chase after her no matter what she does or where she goes? Always trying to snare her into your net? If you want to give her all that freedom she’s so desperate to find, escort her right the hell on out of here.”
Before I can finally come up with something to say to defend myself she walks away from me, opening the door and slamming it behind her with such force, the sound rattles both the building and my bones.
Leaving me alone with my thoughts, my feelings. They swarm me, overwhelm me, and I know there’s no way I can stand out here dealing with all this shit.
So I follow her inside and hide away in my office.
Hide away from Jen.
Chapter 7
Jen
“Don’t I know you?”
Glancing up, I find a man probably in his mid-forties standing before me on the other side of the hostess counter, staring at me.
Hard.
The restaurant is packed. The staff has been scrambling all evening. I should be on my break but instead I’m helping out at the front desk, handling payments, greeting customers in between checking up on my tables when the hostess is off seating others. I do this sort of thing whenever it gets a little crazy, and no one protests. Tonight, though, is extra busy, proof Colin needs to hire more people, and that makes me feel guilty for leaving.
Seeing this man is reminding me why I need to go. I don’t want to know him but I do. He’s a bad memory I don’t want to deal with, especially here.
I smile faintly through my sudden nerves, wishing I could tell him to screw off. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He hands over his credit card and his dinner bill, and I automatically take it. “Are you a regular customer at The District?” We have lots of them, though they’re usually younger than this guy. I know he’s not a regular. Not here.
“Not at this place. My wife convinced me to take her here tonight for our wedding anniversary.” He sounds irritated, and I wonder how in the world I got stuck taking his credit card and running it. Wasn’t he Fable’s customer?
“Congratulations,” I offer weakly, guilt assuaging me. Of course he’s married. Weren’t they all? “Did you enjoy your dinner?”
“A little overpriced,” he huffs out, sounding irritated.
I ignore him, tapping my fingers on the screen, waiting for the credit card approval. It doesn’t come fast enough and when the receipt finally prints out, I tear it off and hand it to him, practically shoving a pen into his hand.
“I know I’ve seen you before,” he says, signing his receipt and pushing it and the pen back across the counter toward me. I don’t dare look at him, and he seems to know I’m hiding from him.
“Thanks for coming. Hope you have a good evening,” I say as I give him his copy of the receipt. Chancing a glance at him, I see the way his gaze drops to my chest, raking over my body in an overtly intimate way.
A shiver runs down my spine. Yeah, this is definitely one of the guys who I . . .
“Did you ever work at Gold Diggers?” He’s lowered his voice, leaning toward me over the counter, and I step back, furiously shaking my head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I start, but I clamp my lips shut when he smiles lecherously, pointing his finger at me.
“You did. I remember you.” The smile grows, and my heart sinks to my toes. “I think you might’ve helped me out after hours one night, too.” He pauses, his eyes lingering on my lips. “No man forgets a mouth like yours.”
Holy. Shit. I can’t believe he just said that. Panic races through my veins and I glance around, looking for an out.
“Ready to go?” A woman approaches, going right to the man’s side, curling her arm around his. Clearly she’s his wife, and I wonder what she might do if she knew I’d taken money from this man in exchange for a bl*w j*b.
Because that’s how he knows me and the shame that threatens is so overwhelming, I’m tempted to run. I blanked most of the men out, never paying too much attention to their faces or bodies. Not wanting to know any details, trying to make them seem inhuman. It’s easier that way to pretend they’re not real.
But this guy is real—and so is his wife.
“Yeah, honey.” He sends me a pointed stare, as if I’d blab where I knew him from or something crazy. He shouldn’t worry. I don’t want any trouble. “Thanks,” he says to me gruffly and I nod in answer, surprised by the way the woman glares at me over her shoulder before they leave the restaurant.
Exhaling loudly, I sag against the counter, rubbing my forehead with the tips of my fingers. If what just happened isn’t an indication I need to get out of here and quick, I don’t know what else is. This is the second time in as many weeks that an encounter like this has happened.
Why now? Why all of a sudden are the scumbags who frequented Gold Diggers finding me? I don’t get it. It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.
“Are you all right?” A warm hand settles on my shoulder and I whirl around, a gasp escaping me at the too intimate touch.
But it’s just Colin. As his hand drops away from me, I see the concern and the caring in his gaze but I try to ignore it. “I’m fine,” I say, swallowing hard.
“You’re pale.” He steps toward me, touching my cheek, and I flinch. Again, his hand falls away and like an idiot, I miss his touch.
“Tired.” I offer him a wan smile, wishing he’d leave me alone. Also wishing he’d whisk me out of here and rescue me for good. Maybe we could run away together. He doesn’t want to face his problems and I don’t want to face mine. We could avoid everything. Together. Alone. Naked . . .
Yeah. That sounds like my every dream come true.
“It’s been a busy night. You should go take a break,” he suggests, reaching out to touch me. Again. I let him this time, pressing my lips together when he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. He’s so gentle, so sweet. Does he know how torturous this is? How much I want him?
We deny each other what we both want. I’m starting to wonder if we’re both out of our minds.
“Everyone still needs help,” I tell him, the breath catching in my lungs when he steps closer. He’s invading my personal space, helping me forget what just happened with that horrible customer. “I’ll take my break in thirty minutes. It should slow down by then.”
“Take care of yourself. I don’t like to see you looking so rattled.” His gaze drops to my lips and I part them, wishing he would kiss me. Which is crazy considering we’re in the middle of a very public restaurant.
“I’m okay. Really.” I offer him a bigger smile and he returns it, the sight of that familiar, heartbreaking crooked smile making me want to throw my arms around him and never let him go.
“I miss talking to you,” he confesses, his voice low.
I’m stunned by his words. “I miss talking to you too,” I automatically say in return.
“Before you—leave, let’s try to do that, okay?” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Let’s try and talk? Catch up with . . . everything? I feel like I don’t know you anymore, Jen.”
He doesn’t. There’s too much I don’t want him to know. That’s why we don’t talk.
“Sure. We can catch up. Sounds great.” I sound flippant and I see the hurt in his eyes, but I ignore it.
We’re always hurting each other rather than facing the truth. It’s just easier that way.
“So you’re going to Sacramento on your day off?” Fable asks the question innocently, but there’s a motive behind her words. She wants to know if I’m really going through with this.
And she’s ever so hopeful I’ll back out and say I’m staying. Too bad I’m going to disappoint her. After what happened earlier, I know my leaving is the right choice. I’d rather be anonymous than deal with those sorts of confrontations.
Offering her a firm nod, I steadily count out my cash tips. It’s our nightly ritual, where we all sit around a few tables and tally up our take for the night, then each of us puts in enough for the busboys and the hostesses. “That’s my plan.”
“How are you getting there?” Another innocent question, and this one I don’t have an easy answer to, since I don’t own a car.
Yeah. I really need one. It’s the first thing on my list of what I need to function when I’m on my own. “I was hoping I could borrow Colin’s car.”
Fable bursts out laughing, the wench. “Yeah, right. He doesn’t want you to leave and you really think he’s going to let you drive his fancy-schmancy car alone to Sacramento? You gotta be kidding.”
“I have my license. I know how to drive a freaking car,” I say grumpily, stacking up the one-dollar bills. Tonight was good, the tips were plentiful, and I’m thankful for every dollar I count.
I need all of them, since I’m going to be living on my own and paying all the bills that come with independent living.
“In the big city? Come on, small-town girl. You’ll probably freak with all the traffic. And isn’t that car of Colin’s his precious baby?”
For a person who tried her hardest to plan this move thoroughly, I’m looking like a complete idiot right about now. “Fine, you can drive me.”
“I work that day. I already checked the schedule.” Fable shrugs. “And I don’t own the truck, Drew does. We only have one vehicle and if I’m not using it to run Owen over to practice, Drew’s driving to his practice or dropping me off at work or going to school or . . . whatever.”
Crap. I’d love to do this by myself. I don’t want to be dependent on someone else. I wish I could rent a car but I don’t have a credit card and there’s all these rules about using your debit card and have to have a certain amount in the bank account. It’s too complicated and not like I always have extra money floating around in my account. I’m saving to get out of here, not blow it all on a rental car. “I wonder if anyone else would take me . . .”
“Seriously? I thought you had this all planned out.” Fable turns to look at me, her expression incredulous, and I immediately feel about two inches tall.
“I never thought about a car and that’s such a huge expense . . .” My voice drifts and I’m overcome with embarrassment. I’d been living in my car when Colin found me, but it took a total dump right after I moved in with him. He helped me sell it for parts and I made a whoppin’ two hundred bucks.
What the hell was I thinking, giving Colin my notice so soon? I mean, I know what I was thinking. He’d pissed me off so bad that I blurted out I wanted to quit, which I’d been planning to do all along but with at least a little more finesse . . .
God, I really screwed it up. To come to him now and say, “Hey, give me a few more months, I need a better plan” would be way too humiliating.
But how am I really going to make it on my own?
“Hell yeah, it’s a huge expense. You spent money on a tattoo yet you didn’t think of saving money for a car? I don’t get it.” Fable shakes her head, her disapproval ringing clear.
I reach for my neck, rubbing at my mostly healed tattoo. She’s making me feel like a complete failure at life. And all of her criticism is also making me quietly furious. Since when does Fable have the right to judge me? “We make our own choices, you know? Not all of us know how to take care of ourselves perfectly.” Like you supposedly do, I wanted to say.
But those last four words are certainly implied. By the shocked look on Fable’s face, she knows it, too.