Page 5 of Silver Edge
I bit my tongue and snagged her plate.
The woman nudged her companion’s plate with one finger, as if she’d missed her cootie vaccination. “You’ll have to remake Drake’s, too, or it’ll be cold.”
“I’m fine, really.” He opened his mouth as if offering a lifeline, but he’d already blown it.
“I’d be happy to.” I reached across the table and retrieved his plate. I about-faced toward the kitchen and took a step. My ankle snagged on the corner of the chair, but my upper body didn’t stop. The plates slid from my arms. I squeezed my fingers to maintain my grip, but they flew into the air. My palms broke my fall and the plates crashed, one by my ear, the other on my head. Lettuce, ketchup, and embarrassment coated my face.
I didn’t have to look to know all eyes were on me.
Two snaps sounded from behind before GM knelt by my right ear. “Get yourself cleaned up then leave. I don’t care what I owe Ton. You’re out of here.” His hot breath burrowed into my ear.
I shivered and shot up, only to slide in ketchup. Several slips and a knock on my head later, I stood. With chin held high, I marched to the back and out the dented metal door. There was no need to hang around. I wouldn’t be paid anyway.
I slid butt-first to the damp, ash-colored alley and lowered my head to my hands. The pounding subsided, and the realization of losing my job caused the sting of tears in my eyes. I’d failed again. If only I could control my attitude and actually learn to cope with the world. There had to be a job out there where I didn’t have to deal with people. Didn’t have to listen to glasses clinking or people shouting or look at flickering lights. Tears itched at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to allow them to fall. Crying was a waste of time—a weakness. I’d learned that by my third foster home.
I rocked and cupped my hands over my ears to protect myself from the buzzing of the streetlamp, the honking of car horns, the squealing of brakes.
And my failure.
After a few moments, the swirls of unease tamed to a steady current and I took a long, cleansing breath, despite the smell of garbage and sour rags rotting in the September heat.
The door at my side flew open, sending rats, roaches, and forgotten souls scattering. “What the hell is wrong with you?” GM said. “Ton said he didn’t think you’d hack it on your own, something about beingdifferent, but that is too much.”
When did he speak to Ton? He hadn’t mentioned I was different the day he called GM about the job.
“Get your skinny ass out of here and don’t come back. That woman in there is the daughter of one of the wealthiest real estate tycoons in all of Atlanta. Her father could easily buy this entire block and force me out.” He paced in front of me. “Listen, here’s forty bucks.”
Two twenty-dollar bills floated to the wet asphalt in front of me.
Why did everyone treat me like a street whore?
“That should get you some food and clothing at least.” He clutched the faded silver handle to the back entrance of the restaurant and wrenched it open. The high-pitched sound shot a shiver through me and I squeezed my knees to my chest.
He hovered over me, no doubt judging me. No doubt thankful he had a way out of his promise to Ton. “You’ll probably just spend it on drugs, so I’m not paying you for the week. Besides, you broke dishes. We’ll call it even.”
The door slammed shut.
Alone. Again.The way I preferred life.
I traced the red ketchup stains dotting the knees of my skinny jeans. The two twenties flittered in the breeze, so I snatched them and pressed my trembling hands to my chest. It was more than enough money to score something. In only minutes, the anxiety and pain would vanish.
That was the mindset of an addict. Drugs cured all ailments, healed all wounds. But I’d learned what happened next. The aftermath of a good forget-all high.
“No. That’s not my answer anymore.” I slid the bills into my front pocket, shoved from the ground, and retrieved my one-year-clean tag from my other pocket. With the tag firmly in my grip, I left the alley and turned the corner.
Drake and Ms. Monroe stood outside the restaurant. I halted and eyed the street. There was no escape route without one of them spotting me, so I retreated into the shadows.
“You didn’t have to cause such a scene.” He ran a hand through his thick hair in a way I’d seen men do in underwear commercials. I could only see the back of him. His strong ass accentuated by his tight jeans, his muscular back and massive shoulders called to me. I could get lost with him for a few minutes.
If only I didn’t want to run as soon as the act was over and need drugs to get through it, maybe Iwouldmake a good prostitute. But no, all that touching was too much.
I leaned in to hear more.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were attracted to that bony brat.”
“Margo, you’re being ridiculous.” He rested his gladiator shoulder against the brick wall, tugging his shirt tighter across his back.
“Am I? Admit it. You thought she was attractive.” Margo swayed on her platform diva shoes.
