Wreck Me

Page 26

“I haven’t been there in like four years.” I glance at the screen of my phone. It’s from the unknown number again. After what happened the other night, I’m almost positive it’s Conner.
“That’s a really long time not to go home, Avery.”
I shove my phone into my pocket. “Yeah, I have my reasons.”
“Reasons for not going home? Or reasons for asking about home?”
“Both,” I admit truthfully. No one’s heard anything from my mother in over a year. I have to wonder if maybe Tristan might know something, considering his past kind of crosses over with my mother’s. And even though I don’t want to look for her personally, Jax’s words echo in my mind.
It’d be nice to know if she was dead or alive.
“Well, I’m sure it’s the same old same old, since nothing there ever changes,” he says as we turn around and start back toward the table saw. “Why did you leave, though? I mean other than the obvious factor.”
“And what is the obvious factor?” I ask, knowing full well what he’s talking about but I don’t want to acknowledge it. That I lived in a place where most people went nowhere, stuck in the rut that continues to repeat through generations. And while I did go somewhere, it wasn’t necessarily a good place in the beginning.
“You really don’t know the answer to that?” He kicks a rock across the driveway and it skitters toward the outhouses.
I sigh as we arrive at the coolers by the driveway. “Well, I get that you have to leave the state if you want anything to happen in your life,” I say, retrieving a mini size bag of licorice from my back pocket.
He brushes strands of his hair out of his eyes then unfastens the tool belt from his waist. “So that’s why you left? To make something happen?”
I shrug, not wanting to lie to him, but I can’t tell him the truth either. “More or less.” I chew on a piece of licorice and offer Tristan one, which he takes. “And I like it here a lot better than in Wyoming.” Lifting the lid of the cooler, I grab a bottle of water then sit down on the ground. “It’s warmer. And different. And near the ocean.”
He places the tool belt on the ground then takes a seat beside me with the licorice hanging from his lips like a cigarette. “Do you go to the ocean a lot?”
I unscrew the cap from the bottle of the water. “Sometimes.”
He picks at the scab on the side of his hand. “I’ve never actually seen the ocean before.”
I pour a bit of water down the back of my neck, but it’s only lukewarm and isn’t as refreshing as I hoped. “Never? Really?”
He rests back on his hands. “I’m not sheltered or anything. I’ve just spent most of my life doing pointless shit that never took me anywhere.” He looks so depressed and perhaps that’s why I say what I do next.
“Well, maybe I could take you there sometime,” I suggest, practically strangling the water bottle in my hand. “It’s only like an hour drive or something, and we’re supposed to be friends so... I mean, friends go to the beach right?”
He stares at me then sits up and gently pries the water bottle from my death grip.  “You really want to do that? Go to the beach and hang out with me?” He seems doubtful.
“Sure. Why not?” I say indifferently, but my fidgetiness doesn’t match my words.
“I can think of a few reasons.” He eyes me over as he opens the bottle and pours water all over his neck and down his shirt. The wet fabric clings to his muscles, which is almost as bad as him being shirtless.
I gawk at him, temporarily wishing that I didn’t make up that stupid rule.
“Still want me to keep it on?” he asks, grabbing the hem of his damp t-shirt like he’s going to tug it over his head.
“Yes.” My mouth feels as dry as sand. I snatch the water from him and devour it while he laughs at me. When I finish it, I get up and dust the dirt off my ass. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to work.”
He stands up and stretches out his legs. “But I thought you didn’t work until later at night?”
“Normally I don’t, but it’s Friday night and Benny is interviewing for a temporary carder at the front door. Things get a little intense around this time of year so he always hires extra help on the weekends for a couple of months until things taper off when the weather gets cooler. I’m supposed to help with the interviews because he seems to think I have a good sense of people’s characters. Although, according to Charissa, it’s because he wants to get into my pants.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Tristan says, annoyed. “I think Charissa might be on to something.”
“You sound jealous,” I joke over the excruciating truth—that the only reason I still have the job at the bar is because Benny does want to get into my pants. I wish I could quit, but I can’t afford to.
“I am.” Tristan’s expression is dead serious.
A tiny rush of approval shoots through me, but I bury the feeling down. Not going down that road. “But it’s a job so it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Tell that to Nova,” he mutters in aggravation. “She’s been on my case to get a job.”
“She seems like a smart girl.” I nudge his foot with mine. “What? Pretty Boy doesn’t want to work?”
“No, that’s not it.” His jaw is set tight. “I really, really f**king do. Badly. In fact I’m becoming desperate at this point.” He yanks his fingers through his hair, stressed out. “I’m just having a hard time finding a job when I’ve only worked as a dealer.”
“But you’re going to school, right?” I wonder why he suddenly appears so stressed out about this. “That has to help.”
He shrugs as his arm falls to his side. “Not really. No one wants to take a chance on a twenty-three-year old ex-druggie/dealer, who has no work history and whose major is general studies.” He doesn’t look at me. “It’s pretty clear how much of a waste I am.”
“Hey, you’re not a waste.” This time I kick his foot in a very serious manner. “I hate when people do that—feel sorry for themselves.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.” He gazes out at the road in front of the house. “It’s just the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” I argue persistently. “And whoever told you that is a f**king liar.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Who said anyone told me that? Maybe I arrived at that conclusion all by myself.”
“Someone had to have helped,” I say, thinking of my mother and Conner and how they helped rip my self-esteem away for a while there, to the point that I sunk so low I gave up. “Yeah, maybe you came to the conclusion yourself, but there’s usually outside help that pushes you in that direction… beats you down…” I trail off as my past flashes through my mind, bright and agonizing.
Everything.
Was.
Taken.
Away.
Bit.
By.
Bit.
And then I got it back.
I blink from my thoughts, overlooking the look he’s giving me, the one that asks: what’s your story? You saw a glimpse of mine and I want to see a glimpse of yours.
I’m not sure what I’m doing but suddenly I’m offering him another chance into my life. “You know what. Come with me. I’m getting you a job.”
“And how the hell are you going to do that?” he wonders in puzzlement.
“Hey, I have connections my friend.” I wait for him to take my hand, but he just stares at me, waiting for further explanation. “Okay, fine. I’m going to get you the carder job.”
He wavers with reluctance. “At the bar? With you?”
I nod, realizing I just gave him more time in my life and he’ll get to witness a side of me no one close to me ever sees. Yet I continue, because I want to help him—need to help him. “It’s a super easy job, and temporary so it should work out.”
“At a bar?” he repeats, astounded.
“Well, it’s not technically in the bar, right?” I tuck my hands into the pocket of my red cut-offs. “Just the front door. And besides, I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“Is that what friends do? Keep an eye on each other?” he asks dubiously.
“I’m not sure, since I don’t have a ton of friends.” I’m still offering him my hand like I did in the motel. It’s beginning to become our thing and I wonder how many times I’ll do it. Just like I wonder if he’ll ever offer me his hand and if I’ll take it. “All I know is that I want to help you.”
His gaze deliberately glides up my body and rests on my eyes then he slips his fingers through mine.  “Thanks, Avery. And I really mean that. Thank you. For everything. If you only knew how much this was helping me, well… I’m going to pay you back one day. I promise.” An abundance of emotions reflect from his blue eyes. Intensity. Gratitude. Confusion. Lust. Fear. Vulnerability. I swear it’s like getting some insight into his soul. In return I should be showing him a glimpse of mine, shouldn’t I?
But if he really knew stuff about me then he probably wouldn’t be looking at me like that to begin with.
Chapter 24
I’m pretty sure I’m f**ked.
Tristan
The Vibe appears vacant when we arrive that afternoon. The open sign is off, the parking lot is bare, and sagebrush blows around the side of the brick building.
“Is anyone even here?” I ask Avery as I hop out of the Jeep, the warm air dusting my skin.
She nods as her feet hit the ground, then she slams the car door. “Benny actually pretty much lives in his office. He even has an air mattress in it.”
“And how do you know that?” I ask as we veer around the side of the building and toward the front door.
“Because I hang out in his office while I do his books.” Her fingers wrap around the door handle and she opens the door.
I follow her inside. “Does he pay you extra for doing that?”
The interior lights are off in the bar, the chairs are turned up on the table, and the cool breeze of the air conditioning feels fantastic.
We actually had to swing by the motel before we came here so I could change out of my sweaty clothes and look presentable.
“No, but it’ll help me in the future when I look for a job in accounting,” Avery explains as she crosses the bar and winds around the back of the counter, heading toward a hallway with me at her heels.
“That seems pretty unfair for you to do the work and not get paid,” I comment as we trot up a slender stairway.
“Well, life really isn’t fair, is it?” When she arrives at a shut door at the top of the stairs, she faces me. “You ready for this?”
I shrug, realizing how nervous I feel. My first job interview. Weird. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She offers me an encouraging smile. “Just be your charming self and you’ll do fine.”
“I’m only charming with the female population.” I wink at her. “Dudes don’t like me.”
“See, charming right there.” Then she knocks as she cracks open the door. “Benny, I found you a temporary carder.”
“Yeah, bring him in,” he calls out, and then Avery inches the door open. She winks at me before she enters the small, disorderly room.
Leaving the door ajar, she takes a seat behind a desk piled with papers and soda cans. Next to her is a guy about a half a decade older than me, give or take a year. He’s wearing a nice collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and he has an impressive silver watch on his wrist. I remember seeing him at The Vibe three months ago and how he checked out Avery the entire time he was chatting with her.
“Hey, have a seat,” he says, motioning me inside the office.
From the fake politeness in his tone, I can tell right away he doesn’t like me. Probably because I’m a guy and Avery brought me here. I figure there’s no way I’m going to get the job, but I still sit down and answer his questions about my past jobs—none—and my skills—I only have a few. When he’s finished, I wait for him to kick me out the door, but instead he turns to Avery.
“So, what do you think?” he asks her, discreetly checking out her tits when she glances over at me.
“Well, my opinion is kind of biased considering I like him.” She immediately pulls a whoops face, like she didn’t mean to reveal that. “But, yeah, I think you should give him the job.” She looks at me again with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “It’ll bring the ladies in.”
I softly chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, whatever.” As she beams at me, I grin back, unable to help it. “You know it will.”
Our little flirting moment is bugging Benny, and I’m sure I’m getting more negative marks with each smile Avery easily throws in my direction.
“So, here’s what I’m proposing.” She rotates in the chair to look at Benny and crosses her legs. “Hire him. See how he does. If he messes up, it’s all on me. In fact, you can fire me.”
Shit. I don’t like her vouching for me at the risk of her job. It makes the pressure to do well intense, and considering my past, I’m more likely to f**k up than excel.
But Benny actually considers her offer and then sticks out his hand to shake on it. “All right, you’re in charge of him. If he messes up, it’s on you.”