Page 17 of Nicki's Fight
I loved that smile, but something was off. Viv hated this restaurant—probably because the owners were friends with my dad. A couple of times when I had tried to hide money from my father, he had inexplicably known almost exactly how much I had earned in tips that night. It took me a while to figure out that the owner was reporting my credit tips, but he didn’t know about the cash ones. Viv never stopped by to see me here, though it was quintessential Vivian for her to pretend to be in the area to give me a ride. I was twenty-one years old and had never owned a car. Dad said the insurance and upkeep were too expensive, but we both knew that money wasn’t the real reason. It was just one more way to control me.
I agreed to meet her outside after my shift ended. I held the tray precariously over our heads as I kissed her cheek, making her laugh as I did so, then delivered the food to the table of hungry guests.
The evening passed quickly enough. I finished my tables, cashed out, then grabbed my things from the back. As I walked out into the parking lot, I saw Viv sitting on the hood of her Honda Civic, her phone out as she texted away.
“Hey, Baby Cakes,” I said, carefully stepping up on the hood and scooting next to her.
“Hey, Doll,” she said, tucking the phone into the pocket of her jean jacket and leaning affectionately into me.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a roll of bills - the tips I’d earned tonight. I pulled off a hundred dollars and stuck the rest of the money back in my pocket. As I did, my hands brushed across the envelope Viv had brought me. I pulled it out to look at it while I put the money on the hood of her car.
“Can you put this away for me?” I asked, not looking up as I slid it toward her. I ripped open the end of the envelope.
She whistled as she counted the money.
“Won’t your Dad notice this much missing?” she asked worriedly.
“I had two graduation celebrations tonight that tipped in cash, and worked my ass off on both of them,” I answered. “I’ve got enough left to keep him happy.”
The sun had long ago set, but the humidity was still high. It had taken only a few steps outside of the restaurant to begin feeling hot and sticky, and not in a good way.
Vivian looked over at me, her eyes gleaming in the neon lights. She nodded and I blushed under her scrutiny. I knew what she would see. I was about five nine, and skinny as a rail. Regardless of how much I ate, I was never able to put on weight. I was pale, but that wasn’t anything new. My skin was a legacy of my mom’s side of the family, just like the red hair. I kept my hair shorter, but it was always unruly, something that drove my dad crazy. I almost always had to keep it cut short to keep him happy. I’d have to cut it in the next day or two, or it could set him off into another rage, and I don’t think I could handle that right now. My mom’s hair had been so long it fell to her waist, and he had always resented that my hair was like hers. I’d spent hours when I was a kid brushing her hair. The reminder of better days made my eyes fill, and I backhanded them quickly, hoping to hide from Viv’s sharp eyes.
Fat chance. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“You can’t keep letting him do this to you, Nicki. It’s not right,” she said softly. “You—you don’t deserve this.”
I sighed and looked away. Sometimes Viv had a one-track mind, and it was ridiculously sharp. Hoping to distract her, I unfolded the papers from the envelope and began reading.
“I know, Viv. I know! I just need to…”
My voice trailed off as I scanned the heavy-weighted paper, the print cold and unforgiving in the glow of the parking lot lights.
“No…” I whispered, feeling the blood drain from my face as I read the legal mumbo jumbo written across the page.
“What is it, babe?” She asked, her eyes turning to me in concern.
The papers fell from my grasp and a sob tore through me.
“No!” I cried, sliding off the car hood and falling to the ground as if my legs were boneless, the pain and anguish overwhelmed me.
“Nicki!” She cried in alarm, hopping down and dropping to her knees next to me.
I lashed out at the ground, my fists flying over and over into the hard-packed Florida soil, trying to take some of the pain and despair out on the dirt beneath me.
“Nicki, what is it?” She exclaimed, grabbing at the paperwork from the law firm in Ohio and scanned it. The words were already emblazoned on my memory, the cruel, impersonal words informing me that my mother, the woman I had literally bled for, had died.
4
Kaine
I madeit through my Art History class, but only because Sonny kept sending me funny memes and texts. Well, that and the probability of an orgasm in my immediate future…
By the time I’d made my way to the lecture hall, I’d gotten about twelve messages from Sonny about minutiae regarding the bookstore opening, and one pic of a hot guy who delivered some packages to them the day before.
SONNY: Seriously, dude! Look at those abs!
A picture accompanied the text of a guy in a UPS uniform, his thigh muscles bulging as he unloaded some boxes from his truck.