Page 32 of Shallow

Shiloh

As far asproductive days go, this one doesn’t even rank. After Frankie comes back, I spend the rest of the afternoon hiding out in the kitchen area stabbing things with dull utensils. The one time Frankie wanders in and sees me hacking a pot holder with a pair of steak tongs, he shakes his head and walks right backout.

“Quittin’ time!” Frankie rubs his palms together, washing off the remnants of a bad day and nods to some new guy as he takes over for thenight.

That’s the understatement of theyear.

Setting the broom inside the closet, I close the door and lock it from the outside. The floors still feel a little gritty, but for a five-minute rush job, it’s not halfbad.

And fuck Cary if he gets mad. If he has something to say about it, he can take it up with me whenever he decides to grace us with hispresence.

“You okay now, killer?” Frankie makes his way toward me, twirling his keys to the center around his finger. “You’re not packin’ any blades, areya?”

I want to be mad, but his goofy smile is infectious. In the middle of trying to force a scowl, I find myself grinning back at him. When the hell did I start liking the kid? I don’t likeanyone.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Lunch didn’t agree withme.”

Or like me. Or want me around. Or care if I got hit by abus.

Which is fine, because the feeling is mutual. What bothers me the most is that my anger stems from more than just Taryn’s taunts. It’s mostly because Cary never bothered to return after our confrontation. My first full day at the center and the asshole just kisses me and then blows meoff.

As we walk in silence toward the front door, I reach for my phone to call Malcolm, my mother’s driver, when Frankie slaps a hand over thescreen.

“Where are you partyin’ tonight,Snowflake?”

“Nowhere. I’m a dangerous fugitive, remember?” Although the words are meant to be sarcastic, the gravity of their meaning hits me. Sighing, I pull the phone away from his hand. “My party days are over, Frankie. I’m goinghome.”

“Everybody heads out to The Light House on Fridays. There’s a DJ andeverything.”

My eyes widen. “I can’t go to a bar, Frankie. Didn’t you hear me? I’m on probation. I have to attend rehabmeetings.”

“So do I. What’s your point? You tellin’ me you can’t go to a restaurant, listen to music, and drinkwater?”

“Look, I just don’tthink—”

Moving in front of me, Frankie places a hand on my shoulder. “Okay, real talk? I know you’re freaked out to face those assholes. Shit, I’d probably piss my pants too. But what are ya gonna do, Shiloh? Hide out here for the next three years? People know you’re home. Woman up and grab the situation by the balls before it grabs yourtits.”

People have bowed down to me all my life. When I say jump, they say how high. It started in high school and just got worse the more famous I became. I can look someone in the face and tell them that the sky is pink and potatoes grow on trees, and it doesn’t matter whether they believe me or not. They’re not going toargue.

Know why? Because I’m Shiloh West. And if I want potatoes to fucking grow on trees, then by God, they’ll grow ontrees.

Ridiculous,right?

But these people aren’t just out for my blood. They want my head on astick.

Frankie cocks his chin. “What the hell are you smirkin’at?”

“You called meShiloh.”

“You stabbed a potholder. I’m being cautious, all right? Don’t read anything intoit.”

Glancing down, I run my hands over my still sticky legs and Diet Coke stained shorts. “I need to change shortsfirst.”

“You need to change more than that.” Flicking my hair, he circles his finger around my face and arches an eyebrow. “When was the last time you fixed your hair, and put on some damnmakeup?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have mirrors in myhouse.”

“Why?”