Damaged and the Beast (Damaged #1)

So many nights I cried in the dark and worried my dream was the stupid fantasy of a poor kid hoping for too much. Now, my dreams were coming true and I’d help them come true for Tawny too. Life wouldn’t be a mess of dependency and violence like with my parents. Life would be safe, dull, and happy.

Still thinking about my future, I dressed in the Denny’s uniform. I’d taken my first waitressing job when I was twelve. Using fake documents, I worked at an I-HOP in Colorado. Dad had trouble getting legit jobs after he served time for theft back in his early twenties. Mom had trouble getting legit jobs when she showed up for interviews stoned. I never minded working for the family in the summers, but spending six hours working at night on top of schoolwork made me resentful.

Having plenty of good references from the jobs I worked legally, I never found it difficult to get a shot from managers. They said I had an honest face. A lot of girls in my high schools didn’t want to waitress. They frowned at the uniforms and thought it was cooler to work at the GAP or somewhere else in the mall. Discounts for overpriced clothes were useless to me. I wanted cash and made it with my tips. Without those tips, I wouldn’t be in college now. That was the deal Dad made with me when I was fifteen and complained about being the only one working. His first solution was to get Tawny a job, but she looked her age and most places checked her documents too closely.

His second solution was to take my pay, but let me keep the tips for college. I opened an account in a bank and deposited my tips every day because keeping cash around a motel wasn’t safe. At the very least, I had to worry about my dad’s sticky fingers.

Unsure how a Denny’s in a college town would rate when it came to tips, I made five dollars in two hours. Half was from college kids who tipped me in quarters. The other half was from an older regular who bossed me around a lot and was really particular. Smiling a lot, I gave him what he wanted and he tipped me well. Especially considering he only spent four dollars.

The other waitresses were broken down between the pros and the college brats. I overheard one of the pros tell another one how I was the newest nightshift brat. They made wagers on how lazy I’d be. The other nightshift brat was exactly what they were expecting. Piper frequently disappeared into the bathroom where I suspected she was texting. I kept an eye on her tables, cleaned whenever I wasn’t working, and constantly checked the ketchup levels in the bottles.

Despite what my family thought, kissing ass wasn’t shameful. While Dad’s side of the family would especially disagree, most of them couldn’t keep a job for more than a few months. In fact, they were often fired for texting in the bathroom.

At eight, while I was wiping the other brat’s empty tables, Hot Guy from Spanish class showed up alone. He carried a bag and strolled to a corner table to plug in his laptop. The spot he chose was Piper’s table, but I didn’t know where she was so I decided to help out. I also wanted to talk to Hot Guy, but that was neither here nor there.

“Root beer,” he said, without looking up.

Maybe it was best if he didn’t look at me. Wearing a black shapeless shirt and slacks with ugly shoes, I barely wore makeup, having wiped off much of it when I sweated on the walk to work.

Even if I had looked good, I probably didn’t want Hot Guy checking me out. He was the type of guy who didn’t do white picket fences or potlucks. He probably didn’t know who Paula Deen was and wouldn’t want kids until he was too old to bang jailbait any longer. Not much older than me, he had a long way to go before settling down out of necessity and playing tattooed family man with his twenty year old biker babe wife named Bambi.

“Do you know what you’d like?” I asked, torn between wanting him to pay attention to me and hoping he never looked up.

The moment I leaned fully into hoping he wouldn’t notice me, Hot Guy looked up. His brown eyes were such a rich color that I felt both drawn and repelled by their darkness. No matter the beauty of those eyes, his gaze possessed the kind of directness common with assholes. They didn’t look at people, but through them. They knew extensive eye contact was viewed as a challenge and they didn’t give a shit. They enjoyed making people uncomfortable and watching girls squirm.

“Spanish class,” he said.

“Yes,” was my super awesome response.

“Freshman.”

“Yep.”

Love match for sure. Nothing says romantic connection like grunting out a conversation.

“Do you know what you’d like?” I asked again.

“Yeah,” he said, still staring at me like I was up to no good and he didn’t dare look away. “The Slamburger with seasoned fries. I’ll want dessert so don’t bring the check yet.”

“How do you want your egg?”

“Medium,” he said then gestured behind me. “That girl is hating on you.”

Turning, I saw Piper glaring at me. She twisted her lips and cracked her neck like she might throw a punch.

“That’s my table,” she muttered.

“You were on break and he wanted to sit here.”