Page 12

Bryn

I squeaked, jumping backwards, away from the espresso machine, thankful I didn’t have the customer’s drink in hand.

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to ruin me?”

Stuart rushed towards me, glaring bullets at me. “Go!”

He pointed his finger at the employee entrance.

It was suddenly twenty degrees cooler, or so it seemed. I gaped at the man, unsure of what to do.

A shadow reached me, drawing my attention to the counter. My stomach knotted as Jake came into view. I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks heat as the threat of tears rose.

“Is there a problem?”

His voice boomed, cutting through the small work space.

“Of course not, sir.”

Stuart gave the bear a trained smile.

Jake looked at me, studying me and then my boss. Satisfied with his findings, he issued a single nod and walked away.

Relief didn’t wash through me; embarrassment did. Lowering my voice to a whisper, unsure of a shifter’s senses, I asked the dreaded question.

“Am I fired?”

Stuart cast an annoyed glare my way.

“Just go, Bryn.”

He exhaled harshly, going to work on the customer’s order.

My flesh began to tingle, fear morphing into a physical response. My heart pounded in my chest. I stood frozen. Had it finally happened?

Seeing that I was still there, Stuart huffed, throwing a hand on one of his slim hips.

“Are you deaf? I said to get out of here. Don’t make me call the cops to escort you off the property.”

His voice rose, louder this time. He was no longer concerned with keeping it quiet.

Like an icy belt whipping across my extremities, his words stung but did their job in that they sent me into motion. Moving as quickly as I could, I slipped past the order station, keeping my gaze straight ahead, avoiding Jake and the other patrons. I heard a male voice, it sounded like Jake’s, echoing behind me, but I paid it no mind. I was on a mission; I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.

Removing my oversized black apron, I hung it on one of the hooks, snatched my purse up with my good hand and practically ran out the back door. I thought everything had changed in twelve hours. Fast forward to eighteen and that statement was truer. If I had a phone right now, I would be calling my best friend, inviting her over for cheesy pizza, cheap wine, and an afternoon of bitching about horrible people in positions of authority. So many men and women didn’t deserve the upper hand they had in life, and no matter how you viewed it, it just plain wasn’t fair.

It was a miracle that I managed to drive home without shedding a single tear, but the moment I was safe inside my apartment, I crashed and crumbled. For the first time in my life, I was furious. Royally pissed off didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rage burned through my veins, adrenaline pumping. I had been the model employee. In five-and-a-half years, I’d called out once. I was never late, never rude and never complained. I put up with a crappy box, sometimes crappy customers and crappy pay without an ounce of attitude. My thanks? Being fired for no reason whatsoever.

“Err!”

I screamed, my tears bitter, hot drops of overly salted water, stinging my eyes. My fists tightly clenched despite the pain in my left arm. I wanted to hit something. Hell, I wanted to hit someone, preferably the incomparable Stuart Bartholomew III.

Stomping to my room like a petulant child, I stripped off my uniform and put the leggings and tank I’d worn earlier back on. My tears slowed enough to flip my hair and pull it into a messy bun.

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t freaking fair.

Walking back into the living room, I looked around. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to sit around feeling sorry for myself, but I didn’t have a plethora of choices. The longer I stood there, the antsier I became. As the seconds ticked by, my anger gradually melted into a puddle of defeat. It felt like nothing ever went right in my life sometimes.

This called for coffee and cake.

Going back to my room, I changed into a solid black tank and pulled on my oversized grey boyfriend sweater. It was only day one yet I couldn’t wait for the bruise to go away. The summer temperatures were slightly more forgiving at Black Fall’s elevation, but not by much; and, sometimes, it just felt like we were closer to the sun, baking faster. Humidity swamped the air and made me miss the days of scraping ice off my car’s windshield.

Slipping on the most comfortable sandals I owned – a pair of men’s flip flops I’d bought with Tiff from a skate apparel store in the mall two towns over – I tidied up my room, snatched my purse and headed out. I had just locked my apartment door when Jake appeared, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Hey.”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, giving me a quick appraisal.

“You okay?”

I wanted to be rude. I wanted to yell, scream and lash out, but none of this was his fault. He didn’t deserve my ire and, therefore, he wouldn’t get it.

I gave him a slight nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His gaze went to my arm, where a layer hid the discoloration.

“Where are you going?”

Considering him for a moment, I debated whether or not to tell him. I wouldn’t take my frustration out on him, but I knew I wouldn’t – couldn’t – be good company right now. Somehow, I sensed he gathered that already, yet asked anyways. Maybe he didn’t mind peace, but I did. Because, in this instance, my silence would most certainly be categorized as rude. Not by him, but by my own standards.

“To Jane’s.”

Taking a step forward, I paused and looked up at him.

“I can’t tell you what to do; the same way no one can tell me. But if you followed me and we sat quietly, I wouldn’t be able to relax and work through all that’s happened. I’m not trying to be rude, but I want to decompress, not pile on the guilt.”

He glowered, but allowed me to pass without a fight.

I knew this was probably just as awkward for him as it was for me. As it was, I felt bad that he’d been assigned the task of babysitting me. Friends of not, that wasn’t in his job description.

Settling in behind the wheel, I turned the key in the ignition. Instead of my car revving to life, I heard a click followed by nothing. Sadly, I knew what that meant because I’d replaced the part for times already in the ten years that I’d owned my car.

The starter went out again.

Could anything else go wrong?

Irritation swelled. I knew exactly how much a new started would cost. Pressing my forehead to the steering wheel, I clung to the bottom of the ring. Mel, my mechanic, had checked the car from bumper to bumper and couldn’t figure out why the starters kept going bad. He suggested I buy a new car and I suggested he pay for it. He laughed and I felt like crying.

A knock on my window had me straightening fast.

Jake leaned against the side of my car, just beyond the side mirror, staring in at me.

With a sigh, I removed my keys, grabbed my purse and exited the vehicle.

“Need a lift?”

He quirked a brow.

The problem then was getting back home. I didn’t have a phone to call anyone.

As if he read my mind, he said.

“I have a few errands to run for a job site. How about I drop you off, let you decompress and pick you up in an hour or so?”

A smirk curled the edge of his lips, lighting his eyes as he teased my word choice. This was progress.

I gave him a small smile, relief washing through me. Maybe having a bodyguard wasn’t so bad after all.

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

He motioned towards his black pick-up truck. It wasn’t quite as large as Bear’s, but everything seemed big when you were used to a beat up, two door Saturn. How I’d survived with such a small vehicle in the mountains, where four-wheel drive was a must, I would never know. I was just grateful my hunk of junk had lasted.

Hopefully, if I passed all of my classes and graduated, I could get a better job, which would make a new vehicle fit in my budget. Financially, I wasn’t sure how I would survive until then. I had one more check coming to me from Mugs, if Stuart didn’t pull any dodgy crap, but, because the pay was only a dollar more than minimum wage, I didn’t make enough to pay my bills and save money. The money was better at Jane’s Diner, but they were never hiring. Jane’s staff knew what a good deal they were getting: minimum wage – and not server’s minimum wage – plus tips. Because of her contract with Mugs, Jane couldn’t hire me to do the coffee in house, and if she broke the contract to do so, she could lose quite a bit of money. Her baked goods sold well in Mugs.

The only thing I could do was attempt to collect unemployment while applying for every available job in town, even the ones I didn’t qualify for. Either I’d get lucky or I would be forced to move, though I didn’t know how I would, monetarily speaking.

Suddenly, I felt trapped. The weight of my situation hit me. I stood outside Jake’s truck, gawking at the vehicle’s glossy finish. Tears wet my eyes. I would go to Jane’s but I wouldn’t spend any money. I would see if she was hiring, by chance, and then check in with the businesses around hers. I would just have to make sure I was back at the diner in an hour for Jake to pick me up. This was better than sitting in a booth and drowning my sorrows in unnecessary calories. If I got a job, I would feel comfortable applying for a credit card and putting the repairs on that. Then, with my first check, I’d buy a phone.

A phone! Crap. How were potential employers supposed to get a hold of me? Email? Quite a few businesses in town were old fashioned.

With a sigh, I let it go. I couldn’t make a phone appear. All I could do was try and pray for a miracle. Maybe I could get a ride from Tiff or Jake to follow up on my applications in person in a couple days.

Taking a deep breath, I realized a lot of my anguish had fallen away. All it took was conquering my emotions with a devised plan of attack.