Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I hang up, slide my phone into my pocket, and take my backpack. I don’t blame my mother. She always paid Bateman, and if she can’t, it’s because of what my dad has done to us.
I don’t like the way she’s handling a lot of this. She has things to sell. The house. Her jewelry. She has options.
And yeah, trying to pimp me out is a whole other discussion, but if nothing else, my mother is a survivor, and none of this would be happening if my father hadn’t ditched us without a cent.
I toss my apron into the laundry basket as Summer stops next to me. “Are you okay?”
“I have to go.” I don’t even look at her. “I’m really sorry. I’ll try to make it up another time.”
“You’re supposed to cover the bar tonight,” Aracely snaps.
“Can I get some napkins, please?” someone calls out.
Followed by the bell. “Order up!”
“Seriously?” Summer begs me. “Not now. It’s busy.”
“I have to,” I tell the new girl. “It’s an emergency. I know I suck. I’m sorry.”
“Go,” Mariette tells me. “It’s okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
I flash her a grateful smile. Then I look back to Summer, ignoring Aracely. “I’ll get you back. I promise.”
“Yeah, you will.”
I laugh a little and spot the to-go bag under the warmer. I grab it. “I’ll take this,” I tell Mariette.
Macon wasn’t home for lunch, but we saw his truck pull in a half hour ago. Mariette probably thought he’d be hungry.
I hurry out of the restaurant and make my way to the Jaegers’ house. I didn’t tell Mariette that I wasn’t sure I’d be back at all, actually. If Bateman isn’t paid, he won’t return, and I’ll have to be home. What the hell would happen if I went to college in January?
I veer right, into the garage, and find Dallas, Macon, Trace, and Army all working on an old Cadillac. A gold one that everyone knows belongs to the mayor of St. Carmen.
It’s amazing how long the Jaegers have survived by making themselves useful to the right people. Public enemies but private friends.
“I have to leave early,” I tell Macon. He sits at his workbench, inspecting something that looks like it came out from under the hood of the car. “I won’t be able to cover the bar tonight.”
He twists his screwdriver slowly, the bolt spilling off onto the table.
Seether’s “Careless Whisper” plays in the background.
Macon doesn’t reply.
“What’s wrong?” Army asks me.
Macon takes the screw, rubbing his eyes.
I study him. “N-nothing,” I reply to Army.
I inch to the side to see if I can see Macon’s eyes. The bags are darker, and I set the food down in front of him so he sees. Is he okay?
My phone rings again, and I pick it up without looking.
“Where are you?” Mars asks.
“I’m coming,” I explain. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
“Will you be back tomorrow?” Army asks me.
I meet his eyes, the concern taking me off guard. I’m easy enough to replace.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I—”
“We need to know,” Dallas cuts me off.
I start to back away, out the door. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t,” he replies, leaning back underneath the hood. “You’re replaceable. By a dozen girls who won’t bring me a cold cheeseburger.”
Army glares at him. “My cheeseburgers are always fine.”
“Probably because she wants to screw you next.”
Macon fits the head of the screwdriver into the bolt, not blinking as he twists it slowly.
It spills out of the notch. He puts it back in.
He breathes in.
Then out.
In. Out.
Little turn of the tool.
Another little turn.
Breathing in. Breathing out.
Army goes on. “Stop treating her like shit.”
“She knows how to hit back.”
Macon’s jaw flexes.
“Dallas, shut up,” Trace finally chimes in.
Macon squeezes the screwdriver. His knuckles are white. His hand shakes.
My stomach churns. Does he know we’re here?
“Come on.” Dallas doesn’t stop as he saunters up to me.
“Where’s the fire you had for Iron?”
“Leave her alone,” Army growls.
Macon’s hand shakes again. It won’t stop. My gaze flashes between his hand and his face. Am I the only one seeing this?
But Dallas keeps going. “We’ll leave the door open,” he taunts me. “I’m sure you’ll be back tonight.”
I back away from him.
“What the hell is your problem?” Army yells at him.
But a small voice finally pipes up. “Go take care of your family, Krisjen.”
I turn, following the direction of the whisper. All eyes turn to Macon as he rubs his own with his thumb and forefinger. I’m probably the only one who sees it. The way they’re watering.
“Mariette will have you back whenever you want,” he says, his voice gravelly.
His brothers watch him warily as he rises and moves away from the table.
“Do I tell Mariette to turn customers away?” Army asks him.
“Tell her to close the fucking doors for the rest of the day for all I care.”
Dallas moves as his brother passes, and Trace comes out from under the hood, watching him. Everyone finally noticing what I did minutes ago.