“I’ll find some. Green light.”
I pointed to the neon light in front of us just as someone sounded their horn. The car stayed quiet until we pulled up to El Plato Cantina—The Plate Bar. The dumbest damn name for a Tex-Mex restaurant imaginable. It was obvious the owners were white and had thrown the title together without much thought before they forked out a fortune to open a restaurant.
Reid pulled two clean aprons from Paige’s glove compartment as she fumed in the front seat.
“No one’s judging. I commend you for being so adventurous, sis.” I got out of the car as Reid belted out another laugh before he caught a direct chest slap from my sister. She ripped the keys from the ignition, got out of the car, and then laid into me.
“Stay out of my crap!”
“I’m not going through your crap. I had just laundered your underwear and was putting it away when I stumbled upon it. You really should invest in something a little more risqué.”
Reid struggled to tie his apron on with the burden of his cast. I was just about to ask him how he could possibly wait tables and thought better of it when my sister slapped me with a dose of unnecessary tough love.
“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to come here.”
Hurt, and more than pissed off, I gave as good as I got. “Really, Paige? You’re going to turn on me that fast? For someone so concerned for my well-being, you had no issue making me feel unwelcome in a city I’m unfamiliar with. And instead of helping me, you spend the last hour making jokes at my expense with your best friend and telling him shit about me that’s none of his business!”
“Ladies,” Reid said carefully, eyeing us over the roof of the car.
“You stay out of it,” I snapped as he held up his hands, looking more bored than defensive. Paige was just about to go off again when I stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be out with my first paycheck.”
“Stella—”
I was already walking toward . . . well, I had no idea, but I would have a job by the time I went back to her place. “Sorry about the interruption, Paige. I’ll let you get back to your amazing life!”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” she retorted. “But that’s you, isn’t it, Stella? Always the drama queen. Maybe that’s why—”
I turned back to glare at her so fast, it caused one of those horrific burns to spark and fizzle up the back of my head. “Really? That’s why my boyfriend dumped me? Is that what you were about to say?”
Paige stood fuming as Reid rounded her hood and walked toward the restaurant.
Letting my anger get the best of me, I gave him a little venom, too. “And you’re an asshole!”
Paige’s pale neck turned crimson. “Alright, that’s enough, Stella!”
“Hey—” I shrugged “—as long as we’re clearing the air.”
Reid smirked and walked through the doors of the rapidly-filling restaurant. I would make it my mission to piss him off the same way.
Annoyed that a ten-minute car ride was about to come between us, I extended a slightly thorny olive branch. “Look, I’m sorry, but that was an asshole thing to do, Paige. This is exactly what I’m afraid of. Rubbing you or Neil the wrong way and being shooed back to Dallas. I’m thankful for you putting me up, you know that. And you know the week I’ve had. I’m a bit on edge, and I’m at your mercy. You know that, too. I’m helpless here!”
She chewed her lip as she looked at the ground between us. “I know. I’m sorry. Reid’s a great guy. You just have to get to know him and give him a chance. I shouldn’t have said those things in front of him, but honestly, he knows a ton about you. He’s my best friend.”
“I’ve gathered. And I’m not?”
“No, you’re my sister,” she said with soft eyes. “Means much more.”
“It better.” I huffed as we both shared a hesitant smile.
“Bitch.”
“Asshole.”
“See you later?” Paige said with a smile as she tied her apron around her jeans.
“If you’re lucky,” I taunted.
“I better get lucky. Don’t make me worry, okay?” She picked up her pace as she headed toward the porch of the restaurant then turned to look back at me, her expression maternal.
I let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. I won’t make you worry.”
“Need some money?”
“A little,” I clipped, hating my situation that much more.
She laughed as she pulled a twenty from her pocket. “I get off at eleven, so be back then, okay?”
“Lend me the car.”
“Forget it.”
Twenty bucks and a kickass T-shirt. That’s all I had on me when I strolled into the busy office of Austin Speak, a city paper that was funded purely by ads and free on every newsstand. The building itself sat in a questionable part of town. It wasn’t a place you wanted to walk away from alone at night. Still, the few blocks I walked to get there got me a little more familiar with Austin’s streets, my home for the next few years. Austin was a mass arena of historical, commercial, and designer commercial. I had several reasons for wanting to move to the city, but the best one was the music. In my master plan, I’d always thought I’d work someplace like Austin Speak to get my feet wet, though deep down I knew it would be a hard sell with my inexperience and lack of a degree. And I was sure the pay was shit. I would have to get another job to compensate for monthly expenses, but it was my first stop, and the only job I truly wanted while I furthered my education. I’d sent in a ton of different resumes and attached several articles I’d written, but hadn’t heard a word. Persistence wasn’t the only edge you had to have in the hunt, yet it was all I had at that moment.
The paper was bustling past the cheap, wooden reception desk. A fair-haired and freckle-faced receptionist that looked my age greeted me with a smile and appreciated Samuel on my shirt before she asked if she could help me.
“I want to work here. How do I get a job?”
Her laugh echoed throughout the joke of a lobby, and several of the staff members in the desks behind her gave a pregnant pause.
“Wow, you’re blunt.”
“Blunt, honest, hardworking. I would be an asset to this place,” I said, noting the retro, pea-green linoleum floors and chipped paint on the walls.
She raised her hands, palms up toward me. “Don’t try to sell me. I don’t pay the rent here.”
“So, who do I sell?”
“That would be Nate Butler.”
“Okay, may I see Nate Butler?”
“He’s in a meeting.”
I gave her a wary eye. “He’s always in a meeting, isn’t he?”
Her smile got wider.
“That’s your job description,” I went on, “isn’t it? Answer the phone and take good messages because he’s always in a meeting?”
She pressed her lips together to keep her laugh in. I planned on encountering nothing but slamming doors in my future. But I had just the right shoes to wedge my foot in for the Hail Mary strategy I would need to have to be taken seriously. I’d spent the majority of my time in junior college writing various articles that kept up with current artists. I had a hard drive filled with a few million words. It was atypical of me not to know the details of any endeavor before I stuck my neck out, especially for the job I was looking to land. But flying by the seat of my Levi’s was another skill I had to master to become a force to be reckoned with. So, completely unprepared, I stared down the receptionist, ready to do whatever was necessary to have an audience of one named Nate Butler.
“I don’t want to pull an ‘I’ll wait.’ I don’t have the patience for that hat trick. Help me out here?”
“He’s pretty blunt himself. You sure you don’t want to come back better prepared?” She glanced at my T-shirt.
I grinned. “You think a tie would dress this up?”
She shook her head with a chuckle.
“I agree, it’s a bold statement.” I looked for any sign that she got my Pulp Fiction pun and was disappointed when she missed it. “He wouldn’t happen to have a fetish for opinionated brunettes?”
“No, he’s more of a long-legged, silent but affectionate blonde type of man.”