Every Little Dream(11)
“But, if you choose that option, there’s no coming back. In a year, when you’re so dirt poor you can’t find one fucking decent apartment, never mind a classy girl to settle down with, don’t come crawling back to me for work.” He pauses, to let that information settle in.
I struggle to keep my breathing even and my expression neutral, but my pulse is raging to the point I can’t even hide the fact that I’m pissed.
He stands, walks around the front of his desk and sits at the edge of it. Right in front of me. I notice the perfect things about him, the perfect crease in his dress pants, the perfect shine to his shoes, and the perfect way his tie sits at his neck, strangling him. “If you choose that option, the money’s gone forever.”
There’s a certain smugness in his voice that sends me over the edge. This is lower than he’s ever sank before, using money to manipulate me. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried this approach before. “Fuck off, Dad.” I use that endearment as a weapon, because he hasn’t been a dad in years.
He chuckles, the fake pathetic kind that an evil villain lets out when he has the hero’s balls on the chopping block. “I thought this might be your reaction. I have a second option.”
I grit my teeth. I restrain my shaking arms and every instinct that wants to knock his teeth out.
“You work as an intern for me, small jobs, still with freedom. No ninety-hour workweeks, and you’ll have limited access to your trust fund. Once you prove yourself responsible, you can choose to stay here and work part time for me while you work toward your law degree. Some day in the future, you can go anywhere in the country and set up your own law practice. Away from me.”
Yeah. He liked dangling that fucking carrot in front of me. “Is that all, Sir?”
He nods and steps back behind his fortress, the walls high and dangerous at this point. I choose not to respond, showing restraint, and head out.
“Son, my offer is on the table for twenty four hours, and then I’ll be making the call to the bank.”
I shut his office door behind me, storm through the lobby and burst into the fucking sunshine. I need my bike. I need to feel the power between my legs.
I need to fly.
Chapter 3
Katie
I spent hours last night washing the pink from my hair. Every last trace of my ultimate humiliation scrubbed from my face and hair. With my blonde hair it took multiple washings. Only if someone looked real close would they see the evidence.
As I take orders, stack plates and pour coffee all I can think about is last night and Chad shoving me off him. I groan, my face flushing even though it’s a day later. Waitressing is hard when I can’t focus. When I bring the ketchup out instead of more salt. Or when I serve the bacon and eggs to the customer who ordered blueberry pancakes. By mid-morning I want to break down and cry.
Justine brushes up alongside me. “When do I get to hear about last night?”
I set my jaw while wiping the counter of any crumbs. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.” Just thinking about the look of disgust on Chad’s face makes me cringe. He totally saw through my act. He knew I was using him for some excitement. And he threw me out. My total legit bad boy, the kind who would never turn anyone away, didn’t want me. If he didn’t, who would?
“We’re going to hit the slump before lunch any second. As soon as it dies down meet me behind the counter. You can spill everything while we refill the ketchup bottles.”
“Fine.” I rush to make change, collect tips and pour more coffee to the few dwindling customers. Maybe it’ll be good to talk about it. Justine is safe. She won’t laugh or scold. Another wave of customers comes in for brunch, so the slump falls a little bit later than usual. Finally we meet behind the counter.
Justine pulls out the large ketchup bottle, while I collect the empty ones. She pumps ketchup into the bottles and I screw the caps back on. We have the system down pat.
“Okay, talk. I want to know everything.”
Saying the words is harder than I thought. “Well, it started the other night. I witnessed a motorcycle accident. The guy was…dangerous but beautiful.” A sigh escapes.
Justine continues to pump but with a frown on her face. “He doesn’t exactly sound like your type.”
I pound my fist against the counter. “Exactly! I’m sick of my kind. The good boy. They don’t exist. At least not in my world.” Suddenly it all spills, my worst fears and hidden thoughts. “I don’t want to meet the perfect guy who I marry and settle down happily forever with kids. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be bored the rest of my life. Maybe I want excitement. I want to feel the thrill in my chest when the right guy sweeps me into his arms.” I drop my voice. “He was perfect. Or so I thought.”