Page 42 of Drive

“Oh, I won’t,” I snapped, taking the beer from him and drinking it. He took another one from the pile and popped it.

“So, that’s it, a quiet woman who smiles a lot? That’s your dream woman?”

“Guess so.”

“Never pegged you for simple.”

“Now there’s a word. Simple. My favorite fucking word. I’ll take that.” I heard the sad edge of his words and nudged him.

“You’ll have that cast off soon, and then you can make life your bitch. Two weeks.”

“Let the countdown begin.”

I lay on my back and looked up at the few stars the night sky allowed us. “I thought it would be different, moving here. I thought it would be more exciting. Real freedom, you know? But I have since learned being free involves its own chains. My sister acts like a ninety-year-old woman. She cooks dinner at eight o’clock and is in bed by eleven. What the hell is that, Reid?” He looked over at me as I stuck out my lip. “This is totally boring.”

“She got it all out of her system, I guess.”

“They’ll get married. I know it.” I studied Reid. “She’s going to marry Neil. And then what?”

“And then whatever they want,” he said as he took a long swallow and laid his head next to mine.

“Notme.I’ll have take-out every other night, stay up past midnight every day, get my passport stamped, eat weird shit, do things that scare me. I want to burn out.”

“You don’t say,” Reid said, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Hell yes! I want to do something amazing, something groundbreaking. And I’ve already set the timer.” I turned on my stomach, forearms perched as I looked down at him. “I will do the impossible by the time I’m twenty-nine.”

“What’s that going to be?”

I gave him my biggest smile. “Wait and see.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Umbrella”

Rhianna/Jay-Z

“Are you ready to order?” Reid asked a four top that had taken their sweet ass time, despite his attempt to turn his tables. I could see the older man’s face transform to indignant when he looked Reid over. Not an ounce of empathy for his broken arm, which was actually his wrist, Paige had told me.

“We will order when we are ready,” the guy snapped. I hung my head as I watched Reid eat shit and retreat back to the kitchen. Our manager, Leslie, had refused to give him more tables, and I knew he couldn’t have made more than twenty dollars. Thinking fast, I took a few of the bills from my tips and slid them into the books of two diners that had just left. I knew Reid would buy it. He’d had quite a few pity tips from other tables.

I had enough saved for a down payment on an apartment. Waitressing had turned out to be decent money, which was both surprising and infuriating because I hated it with every fiber of my being. I was looking forward to the extra money I made that night, planning to stash it away for other crap Lexi and I would need. But just that once, I could help him without hurting his pride. I brought lunch to his apartment most days—and was met with a glare—and saw him eating once or twice at the restaurant with our half-off discount. Still, his situation wasn’t getting any better.

A few minutes later, I saw Reid check the ticket books and the mild surprise that crossed his face.

“Excuse me, we’ve been waiting,” the man said as Reid stared at him dead-eyed before returning to the table. There were two guys, older and dressed in suits. I was seething when I noticed one of them was Nate Butler. Any happiness I had about seeing him dissolved when he made some snide comment that had them both laughing as Reid walked away. Fuming, I grabbed two waters, and some chips and salsa, then burst out of the kitchen door, full speed ahead. Nate saw me seconds before I faked a fumble and threw the tray at them both. It was a bit overkill as they were hit with a tidal wave of water and salsa.

“Oh my God,” I said in mock surprise, and without an ounce of sincerity. “I’m so very sorry.” The guy sitting with Nate glared at me while Nate stared at me open-mouthed. “Stella?”

“Nate,” I said with a hand on my chest. “I’m so sorry. There must have been something on the floor. I . . . just . . . tripped.”

He narrowed his eyes, his crotch covered in salsa, as he looked over to the guy who was cursing under his breath while he stood in a pool of ice water, his pants dripping.

“Let me go get something to help clean this up,” I said as I looked up and saw Reid at the hostess stand, his jaw turned to steel. Nate followed me toward the kitchen. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said playfully, “but I can see you’ve been trying to make it as a busboy.”

“Funny,” I said with bite. “I can see you’ve been trying to make it as a prick.”

“Whoa,” he said as he stopped me before I hit the swinging door. “What’s gotten into you?” I turned to fully look at him and felt the familiar pang of what it was like to look at perfection. His devilish grin and neon-blue eyes blinded me, and for a single moment, I felt that smile to my toes. “Seriously, you just sat there while that dick was rude to a waiter with a broken arm?”