All It Takes Page 5

  “Dinner.” I say the word slowly, but I smile to let him know I’m teasing him. “Din-ner. The last meal of the day. I’m buying you dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you worked really, really hard, dude,” I say, starting to get exasperated. “And you offered to come back. And because we didn’t even stop for lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “But . . . we had lunch.”

  “No,” I say. “We had a couple of crappy bagels that I swiped from the B + B’s breakfast buffet. They were dry and gross. Would not recommend. What I want is a big, greasy cheeseburger. So are you going to get in the car, or are you going to follow me in yours?”

  ***

  It took a lot more cajoling than I expected, but I eventually got Ash into my mother’s old station wagon. I figured that way if it crapped out on me again, I’d have him there with me, at least, until I dropped him back at the house for him to pick up his car.

  I don’t think he realized what my plan was until I turned into the diner’s parking lot.

  “Uh . . . I don’t think this is a good plan,” he says as I pull into a parking space right by the front door.

  But I just turn off the engine and pull the key out of the ignition. “Come on,” I say. “We’re going inside.”

  “No,” he snaps, and I kind of jerk in my seat at his tone. I look up at him, and the anger just bleeds right out of his face right in front of me. He sighs and scrubs both of his hands over his face. “Fuck. Sorry,” he says. “It’s not your fault. I just . . . This is a really bad idea. I’m not exactly welcome in there.”

  “Look,” I unbuckle my seat belt and turn in my seat to face him straight on. “I heard what they said to you. But the way I figure it, you have two options here. You either hide yourself away until your parole ends and you can start over somewhere else, or you make these people accept you.” He’s not looking at me. He’s just sort of staring off into space. I reach out and hesitantly place my hand on his arm. He doesn’t move.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I killed someone,” he says. “I got high as fuck and I killed someone.” He squeezes his eyes shut and his head smacks back against the headrest hard enough that it actually looks like it hurts. “And you’re just here. Why are you even here? Why aren’t you just like everyone else?”

  “Look, you messed up,” I say. “Bad. I’m not going to pretend like you didn’t. But you’ve served your time, and you’re stuck living here until your parole is up. You’re trying to do the right thing.” I rub my hand against the sleeve of his jacket. “Illegitimi non carborundum.”

  That got his attention. He opens his eyes and looks at me. Ah, there was the why are you suddenly a lizard-person look again.

  “What. The. Fuck?”

  I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh. One day, one single day of having his help has made the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders feel about fifty pounds lighter. “Illegitimi non carborundum,” I say, and shimmy out of my hoodie, which is not an easy trick when you’re sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. The steering wheel is kind of unforgiving, but finally I manage to get it off. I stretch out my right arm and twist it so that the back of my lower arm, and the dark script that runs down the bone there, is directly in front of him. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”

  With a tentative hand, Ash reaches out to touch, but then his fingers stop a hairbreadth away from my skin. “Can I?” he asks, and I nod.

  “Of course.”

  His touch is soft, and it’s only there for a second. But he swipes down the words, and I have to stifle a shiver that threatens to run down my spine. “You’re a weird girl,” he tells me as I pull my arm back, and I smile.

  “I’m very aware of that,” I tell him. “Now get out of the fucking car. I want a burger.”

  This time, instead of waiting for him to argue, I tug on my hoodie and hop out of the car.

  And mercifully, he follows.

  ***

  To be honest, dinner could have gone better—we both could have done without the wide-eyed stares from the other patrons—but it definitely could have gone worse. At least Lacey and the waitress that kept giving me dirty looks weren’t there. Instead we had a young guy with skinny hips and what looked like purposefully-styled bedhead as our waiter, and though his eyes widened a little when he saw us slide into a booth, he didn’t say anything.

  I made a point to glance at his name tag when he actually managed to be polite, as opposed to Lacey and that that blonde mean-looking waitress. According to the little plastic tag pinned to his shirt, his name was York, and from the looks of it, it was only him and a heavily-pregnant girl with thick-framed black glasses working that day. And York was doing most of the running around since the girl seemed to be staying put behind the cash counter as much as possible. I didn’t blame her. Especially when I saw just how much effort it took for her to pull herself up off the stool back there. But even when some of the other customers were rude to her, calling out for her to hurry it up with their drinks, she didn’t utter a single complaint the entire time we were there.

  Tough cookie.

  We got a few strange side-eyed looks from the other patrons, but unlike the one from the other morning, they stayed silent. Ash looked like he was about to bolt out the front door when we initially sat down, but as time passed, his shoulders slowly began to unhunch themselves and he started to relax.

  And by the time our food came, he was leaning back in his seat and actually smiling.

  Like I said, it was a good look on him.

  Ash

  “Well . . . ” I trail off as Star pulls the car to a stop in the driveway. I don’t know what to say. Thanks for dinner? Thanks for the job? Thanks for putting up with all the fucking gawkers at the diner? Thanks for not letting me be a complete asshole to you? I’ve got nothing.

  I used to be smoother than this. I fucking know I was. But all the words are caught in my throat. Jesus. What is wrong with me? The silence between us gets longer and longer to the point where it’s so awkward I’m shifting in my seat like a five year old. I want to just mutter thanks and then make a break for it, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to leave the impression I want.

  Star glances over at me, and she must see how uncomfortable I am, because she just shakes her head and laughs. “It’s okay, Ash,” she says, and pulls the keys from the ignition, turning in the driver’s seat to face me. “How about this?” She reaches out and offers me her hand to shake. “Thanks for your hard work. I hope you enjoyed your dinner. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I kind of stare at her outstretched hand for a minute before I manage to shake myself out of my haze. I reach out and clasp her small hand in mine, pumping it up and down twice before dropping it like it’s on fire.

  Seriously. I really used to be smoother than this.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Ugh, you, too.” And then I’m up and out of the car, booking it down the driveway before I can fuck this up any further. I’m pretty sure I can hear Star chuckling to herself as I slide into my car, but I hope it’s just her crap car sputtering back to life. I sit in my car and wait as she turns the station wagon back on and pulls back down the driveway. I wait for her to drive down the street, headlights disappearing at the turn, before I let out the breath I’ve been holding for what feels like forever. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and let my head drop forward against the steering wheel. Why haven’t I thought this far ahead? I can’t keep this hidden for much longer. She is bound to figure it out eventually.

  I have nowhere to go.

  I’ve been driving my car around Avenue for days, trying to find the perfect spot to spend the night, but in a town as small as this one, it isn’t like there are a shit-ton of options. People are going to start n
oticing. Star is going to notice. And how long am I going to be able to keep the job, as crappy as it is, if she finds out that I am such a fuck-up that I don’t have anywhere to live?

  At this point, I’m just lucky I don’t stink.

  With a groan and a muttered “fuck,” I stick the keys into the ignition and start up the car. I’m half tempted to just park it in the driveway and sleep there, but Star’s mom’s house is in a nice neighborhood. My car would stick out like a sore thumb, no matter how much junk we dragged to the curb. With my luck, I would end up getting towed while I was still asleep in the back.

  For the millionth time since the crash, I wish I’d somehow managed to grow up to be less of a fuck-up. I wish I’d actually listened to the people who’d told me to smarten up. Maybe then things would have gone differently.

  Maybe then I wouldn’t be such a fucking loser. I’ve sunk so low that half the friends I’d had won’t even let me couch-surf—and I’d very nearly gotten down on my knees and begged—and the other half I haven’t bothered with because if my parole officer found out I’d been talking to them, well…it wouldn’t be good. But then it wouldn’t be good if he found out I was living out of my car, either. Fuck, I really need this job.

  I drive until I come to the old thrift store just on the edge of town. It’s too out in the open, and I know I should keep looking for a better spot, but I’m completely exhausted and I just can’t make myself look any longer. I pull into the parking lot, and drive around until I find a spot mostly in the shadows, and park the car. With a sigh, I shut off the engine and wait until everything has gone silent before I turn to look over my shoulder at the backseat.

  It’s a good thing that Star didn’t get a close look at my car, I realize. Because I still have my blanket and pillow back there—snagged from my room when Mom finally relented enough to let me inside to get the last of my stuff—and it’s pretty clear what I’ve been using it for.

  With a sigh, I climb over the center console and settle into the backseat, where I lie in the dark and wonder how the fuck my life ended up this way until I finally fall asleep.

  Chapter 5

  Star

  I’ve managed to make it through just over half my breakfast unscathed when Lacey slides into the booth across from me. She does it so suddenly I actually flinch when I see her sitting there. The girl is like a freaking magician. She’s just lucky that my fight-or-flight instincts didn’t take over. If they had, the coffee I was holding would have ended up all over her crisp white T-shirt before either of us could blink. I’d been hoping that her whole lecture on the evils of Ash had ended the other day, but by the look on her face, I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I glance down longingly at my breakfast plate, empty save for the three slices of overcooked bacon and the last slice of toast.

  Damn, I think as she pins me with a look. So close.

  “What the ever-loving hell is wrong with you, Star?” she says and I cringe. Her voice is so shrill, it’s like nails on a chalkboard.

  Be cool, I tell myself. Chances are, she’s talking about my deal with Ash—which is probably all over town by now, considering just how avidly people had been watching us over the last day and a half—but there’s always a chance she could be referring to something else. And since I’m not about to start digging my own grave here, I just paste an innocent look on my face and kind of blink at her, like I’m confused.

  I’m not confused.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, and I suddenly find myself wishing that I’d bothered to take drama in high school, instead of avoiding it like the plague. Maybe then I’d be a more convincing liar. Well, not liar, exactly. Not yet, anyway.

  Either way, she isn’t fooled. I watch, trying to keep a reaction off my face as Lacey lets out the most dramatic sigh ever made by a human being over the age of five and kind of flops down on the table between us, folding her arms over her head like she’s building herself a cocoon. Either she took drama, or this is just some kind of hold-over from when we were little. I’m having flashbacks of the second grade, of us playing in the sandbox together. I remember building lopsided sand castles, and then Lacey, with her tiny blond pigtails blowing in the breeze, acting as though the world were ending because I wouldn’t be a princess with her. Because every castle needed a princess apparently. In my defense, who the hell would want to be a princess when they could be a dragon instead? I know I wouldn’t. Second-grade Lacey hadn’t agreed with my logic back then, so, judging by what is happening in front of me as I calmly drain the last of my coffee, I’m not holding out a ton of hope she’ll be swayed by my argument now.

  I’d just assumed she’d grown out of using hysterics to make her point—I was wrong.

  I look around the diner, frantically. I’m going to need way more coffee for this discussion. The middle-aged blonde waitress from the other day is back, but when I try to flag her down as she passes by, she just glares down her nose at me and keeps walking.

  Yep, I think. Word has definitely gotten around. That would explain the death glares she’s been giving me all morning. But then again, it wasn’t like she’d been super friendly to me before Ash and I met, either. Maybe she is just an angry person. Could be.

  You’d better cool it with the looks, lady. I think as she walks past me. Your tip is rapidly dwindling down to nothing. I turn a little in my seat and shoot her a glare of my own as soon as I see her back is turned, smiling a little when she disappears into the kitchen, and I know I’ve gotten away with it. At this point, I’ll take any victory I can get, no matter how insignificant. I turn back to Lacey, and instantly regret it. She’s left the private sanctuary of her arm-cocoon and is gazing at me with huge, almost cartoon-like eyes, like I’ve betrayed her somehow.

  I sigh and gaze down at my empty mug. I definitely need more coffee for this.

  “Why, Star?” she asks, her voice cutting through the quiet din of the diner with way more force than necessary. I have to bite down on my own tongue to stop myself from telling her to keep it down. People are already turning to look. Great. Just what I need. More attention. “Why would you talk to him after what he did?”

  I pick at the last of my bacon, which is yet another disappointment in itself. They make it way too crispy here. It’s almost charred. I shrug and pop a piece in my mouth, anyway, but I’ve timed it badly and I’m stuck trying to chew like crazy to get it down while the blonde waitress makes another round. I’m not being at all subtle in my attempts to flag her down, but with my mouth occupied all I can do is wave in her direction. Which I’m doing. I’ve got nearly my entire arm flapping about, but even though I know she can see me, she still doesn’t come over. Instead she just stares at my arm like it has now managed to offend her delicate sensibilities somehow, and turns on her heel and walks away.

  Swallowing the last of my bacon, I sigh and slump down in my seat, defeated. I’m never going to get out of here. The service here is terrible, especially with the blonde in charge. I miss the waiter from last night, the one with the hipster jeans. He at least acknowledged my existence, even though he looked like he’d been ready to bolt like a frightened deer at a single movement from Ash.

  The blonde waitress disappears into the kitchen yet again, taking the full carafe of coffee with her. And there goes the rest of your tip, I think and turn back to Lacey. I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her. Apparently ignoring her little outburst just made things worse. She’s managed to get herself so worked up now that there are actual tears shining in her eyes. Is this what I left behind when I went into foster care? Dealing with a spoiled brat? Child protective services outdid themselves, if that was the case. Because I’m pretty sure that if I had to grow up with her, one or both of us would be dead by now.

  Lacey reaches out and grabs the hand I’d laid down on the table and pins me with a look, her fingers digging into mine. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that guy is?”

 
Ugh, I think. And that’s enough of that. I can’t help rolling my eyes this time, and I shake her hand off as gently as I can before leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest. “Look, Lacey,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully. Very carefully. I don’t want any further dramatics. I just don’t have the energy for them today. “No offense or anything, but really? Just stop. I have a million things to worry about right now, and Ash isn’t one of them. So thanks for the advice, but I’m good. And quite frankly, this is none of your business. This is between Ash and I.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off before she can get a word out. I’m done. I’m done with the looks and the tall tales and whatever else the people of Avenue want to dole out like candy on Halloween. I’m done.

  “Seriously,” I say, my voice firm. “None of your business.”

  We sit there in silence, kind of glaring at each other across the table. It’s like something out of one of those Old West movies, like we’re facing off at high noon, waiting to see who will blink first.

  Luckily for both of us, today is my day, and Lacey’s the one that falters.

  “Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes and hauling herself out of her seat. “I need to get to work, anyway.” She’s already a few steps away from the table, having tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder in what I’d been hoping was a sign that our conversation was over, when she stops and whirls back around. “But just so you know,” she says, “when you wake up dead in a Dumpster somewhere, I’ll be expecting an apology. A good one.”

  Oh, sweetie, I shake my head as she flounces off toward the back of the diner and disappears through the door marked Employees Only. I don’t think you thought that sentence through.