Page 11 of Silver Edge
“I’m not with her anymore. We’re friends and business associates. Nothing more.”
I forced myself to stare him straight in the eyes. A silver abyss met my gaze, one that didn’t make me feel like it would swallow me whole with vengeance for looking back at him. It was more of a pool of welcoming water I could swim in for centuries. “Does she know that?” After a second, the nervous electricity shocked my insides and I looked away. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll find something.”
“You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?” Drake leaned into my personal space, but I didn’t feel the urge to run. Instead, my upper body tilted toward him.
“We’ve all had it rough. I don’t need a pity party. I need a job.” I hated the way my voice sounded like a whining dog. My fingers trembled, but I wasn’t sure if it was from lack of food or how close his face ventured toward mine.
Strong fingers wrapped around mine, and he squeezed. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
I dared to gaze into his silver pools again and found a depth of compassion beyond my imagination. No sign of deception. No sign of greed. No sign of selfish desires. “I’m not scared.”
But I was. Scared of the fact that I wanted more. More touches. More contact. More love. Things that were impossible to me.
He brushed a thumb over the back of my trembling hand. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”
I straightened and tugged my hand free. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can work and earn my own way.”
He sighed. “Well, my employees receive a free meal at the end of their shift. I’m afraid it’s just French fries and hamburgers, though.”
My stomach growled with enthusiasm, the sound echoing through the empty club.
“Ha, time to feed that monster inside your tiny body. You ready for that burger?”
Pride was one thing, but food was another. “I’ll take it.”
“I’m afraid I still can’t hire you to work the bar, but you did work tonight so I’ll pay you for the hours you worked. Also, the tips are split. It’s not much, but it’ll last you a few days.”
I scanned the room. A welcoming place where people loved music the way I did. “Well, perhaps in a year and a month, then.” My heart shredded into bloody strips of torn muscle and fluttered to my abdomen. I’d finally found a place I connected with for the first time, but now it was dead to me, just like my mother.
Chapter Five
The office displayed the same dungeon motif of leather and metal as the rest of the club. I could feel at home here after living on the streets for so long.
The low lighting allowed me to open my eyes without sunglasses. Bright lights had always caused headaches. In high school, I’d worn dark glasses every day to shield against the harsh florescent lights, despite the kids calling me vamp girl. I didn’t blame them, though, not with my pale skin and dark hair. I was practically a walking poster child for bloodsucking creatures of the night. But if I were a vampire I’d be fierce, not some sparkly punk with a conscience.
Drake handed me a red basket piled with food before disappearing out the door and leaving me alone in his office. The aroma of French fries and cheeseburgers filled the room. I slid a fry into my mouth and savored the salty goodness coating my tongue.
Old records stacked along the wall whispered from the past of classic music and happy times. I collapsed to my knees. It had been ten years since I’d listened to a record. Mötley Crüe, Twisted Sister, and Ratt were on top. Holding Mötley Crüe to my chest, I imagined the evenings my mother and I had spent together dancing around the living room, blocking out the noises of life. She’d always known what to do to help me through my attacks.
I shuffled through several more great eighties hair bands and chuckled. Drake didn’t seem the type. He was more heavy metal meets pop punk, with his swagger, formfitting jeans, and T-shirts. Oh, and that tattoo. What was it? I’d only caught a glimpse of a black point. I imagined it being some fierce tribal type of tattoo, one that had deep meaning. Ugh. Hopefully it wasn’t some chick-longing tattoo, especially not for that Margo girl.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, so I abandoned my snooping and returned to my food. The moment my butt hit the firm leather chair the door creaked open.
“I’ve got some cash for you. It’s not much, but it should get you through for a bit.” He eyed the records. Shoot, one had tumbled over.
I stood, but stepped on the broken lace of my trashed Converse and stumbled, knocking a picture over on his desk with a loud crash. I steadied myself, but my hands still shot to shoulder level before I suppressed the desire to cup my ears against the sound and lowered them back to my sides. “Geesh, I’m sorry.” Curling my fingers underneath the smooth frame, I inspected the glass front. “It’s not broken.”
He wrapped his arms around me and steadied me on my feet. His heat against my side. “You all right?” he asked, his breath caressing my ear.
“Fine, just a klutz.”
His finger tucked my purple streak behind my ear and he tipped my chin until I looked up at him. “You sure?”
His attention on me instead of his picture surprised me. As if I meant more than his possessions. His scent, his pulse, his touch caused me to shimmy out of his hold. Before I began to believe he could be a possibility.
In the picture, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair stood next to a younger Drake. He’d filled out over the years, but even then he was sexy. “You look happy here.”
He propped his right butt cheek on top of the desk and rested his forearm on his thigh, his upper body leaning toward me. “What? I don’t look happy now?” His fingers wrapped around mine, sending lightning sparks up my arm. I couldn’t jerk away or he’d think I didn’t like his touch, or he’d figure out I was a freak. After the shock settled, the penetrating fear of personal contact with someone didn’t drill deep into my center. The prickly sensation that normally bored through my bones into the marrow and past every cell in my body to that inexplicable place deep inside didn’t happen.
