Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (14 page)

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Paint? No way. That
stuff doesn't come off. We use shoe polish."

"Shoe polish?"

"Yeah. One trip through the car wash, and
it's gone."

"So your friends," I said. "Those two guys.
Was their car painted? Or was that just shoe polish too?"

"Shoe polish, totally," she said. "Their
car's fine now. Joey and Paul are still pissed, but hey, that's
guys for ya. No sense of humor."

I felt myself swallow. Pissed or not, their
car was fine. My car was fine. The only car that wasn't fine was
Lawton's. And he'd done that at my prompting, even if that hadn't
exactly been my intention.

"So," Amber said, "do you accept my apology
or what?"

"I guess so," I said.

"Awesome," she said, reaching for her menu.
"Because I'm in the mood for pancakes. You serve them all day,
right?"

An order of pancakes and a spiked orange
juice later, Amber was gone. And she actually left me a pretty
decent tip.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about her
so-called apology, but I had to give her credit for trying. If
nothing else, she had been wearing clothes at the time, which was
more than I could say for Brittney.

When my shift was over, I went to the back
room and checked the schedule, posted on the back bulletin board.
Looking at it, I felt my blood pressure spike and my gaze narrow.
Keith changed the schedule, alright – just not in any way that
would make me happy.

"That little weasel," I said.

Josie was passing through on her way to the
back door. "What now?" she asked.

"That stupid Keith," I said. "Get this. I'm
on the schedule for five days next week, but for three of them, I'm
on training duty."

"Oh man, that sucks," Josie said.

"Yeah, and check this out. Wanna know who I'm
training?"

Josie sidled next to me and looked. Her brow
wrinkled. "Brittney Adams? Is that the blonde who came in to see
Keith the other night?"

"Yup."

Josie winced. "Ouch. Poor you."

"No. Poor Keith," I said. "Because right
after I'm done here, I'm gonna strangle him."

"Good luck with that," she said. "He left
like an hour ago."

I looked around. "Then who's in charge?"

Josie shrugged. "Got me. The day shift
manager starts at six."

"But that's not for another hour," I said.
Even for Keith, this was beyond strange. "So there's no manager on
duty?"

"Not anymore." She grinned. "Unless
you
want the job."

"Hell no," I said. "What I need is a real
job."

"Hey, you and me both."

"Do you know, I sent out like twenty resumes
last month?" I said. "Not that it did any good."

"You think you got it bad?" she said. "My
brother? He's got a master's degree. Wanna know where he's
working?"

"Where?"

"Flannigan's. As a bartender."

"Really? He can't find anything better?
What's his degree in?"

"Psychology."

I gave her a sympathetic look. "Not the
best-paying field, from what I hear."

"Got that right," she said. "He's better off
tending bar. With tips, anyway."

I could totally relate. It was the same
dynamic that kept me waitressing. Probably Josie too. She had a
bachelor's degree in something or other, for all the good it did
her.

We said our goodnights, and I headed back to
my locker. Twisting the combination, I thought of Keith tampering
with my cell phone. Somehow that weasel had gotten into my locker,
and I needed to find out how.

But in the meantime, I definitely needed a
new lock, something with a key this time.

Pulling out my cell phone, I found a new
voicemail from Erika. It was short and to the point. "Call me as
soon as you get this. Or else."

I glanced at the clock. It was five in the
morning. She didn't mean now, did she? I checked the time of her
message. Three o'clock in the morning. Just two hours ago.

Well, she must've meant it, right? I gathered
up the rest of my stuff and headed out to my car. While waiting for
the engine to warm up, I gave her a call.

We were still talking by the time I pulled
into the Parkers' driveway a half hour later.

Turns out, Erika's parents were cutting off
her financial support, right after the current semester.

"Are you sure they won't reconsider?" I
said.

"Not a chance." She gave a hollow-sounding
laugh. "Guess I shouldn't have flunked that last history class,
huh?"

Erika was on her fifth year at college, going
into a sixth. She'd changed her major three times and was back to
undecided.

"I'm really sorry," I said. "What are you
gonna do?"

"I guess I'll have to find a job," she
said.

"First time for everything, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. So anyway, that's probably
why I blew up at you. I’m really sorry."

"Nah, don't be sorry," I said. "I was a total
crab-ass. I had it coming."

"That's for sure."

"Heeeey!"

Alright," she said. "Enough about me. What'd
you decide about that man of yours?"

"Nothing yet," I said. "But we've got plans
for Monday."

"What kind of plans?" she said.

"I don't know. He just said he had something
to show me."

"I know what it is," she said.

"Don't say it," I warned.

"His massive cock."

I groaned. "I knew you were gonna say
that."

"Oh c'mon," she said. "Give the guy another
chance. You know you want to."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But just because I want
to, it doesn't mean I should."

"This is what you should do," she said. "Go
out with him, do whatever, have a good time. See what happens." Her
voice turned serious. "I've known you a long time, Chloe. You
haven't had a lot of fun in your life. Maybe it's time to just let
go for once, you know?"

I
did
know.

Erika's life had been full of fun. Maybe too
much fun, the way it sounded. But look where it had gotten her. If
her parents didn't change their minds, she wouldn't be a whole lot
better off than I was.

"Maybe," I said.

"Stop saying 'maybe.' Say 'I'm Chloe
Malinski, and I'm a sex machine.'"

I laughed. "I'd never, ever say that."

"Then don't just say it. Do it."

"I'll think about it," I said. "But hey,
before we go, here's a question."

"What?"

"Remember that photo I texted you the other
night?"

"The one of that couple in the back seat?
Yeah, I remember. The guy looked exactly like your boss. Same tie
and everything."

"Actually," I said, "it
was
my
boss."

"No way!"

"No lie," I said. "So anyway, you still got
it, right?"

"The picture? Not anymore. I mean, I figured
it was just a joke." She hesitated. "It wasn't?"

My heart sank. Here, I'd been counting on
Erika to keep it. But had I actually told her to keep it? No. I
hadn't. It wasn't her fault it was gone. It was mine.

"Yeah, just a joke," I said.

Too bad the joke was on me.

Nervously, I paced the living room. It was
just after two o'clock on Monday afternoon. Lawton had called me a
couple hours earlier to finalize our plans. What those plans were,
I had no idea.

All he said was to dress casually and be
ready to see something he'd never shown anyone.

I knew exactly what Erika would say. That
ruled out his massive cock.

Waiting for him, I wore jeans and a dark
V-necked shirt. Not fancy, but nothing I'd be embarrassed to be
seen in either.

Right on schedule, a car pulled into the
driveway. Watching out the window, I felt my eyebrows furrow. It
was a brown sedan with a rusty front bumper and dented hood.

As I watched, Lawton slid out of the driver's
seat and started walking toward the front door. Still confused, I
grabbed my purse and met him at the half-way point.

"What's that?" I said, glancing over at the
car.

"Our ride," he said.

I gave him a dubious look. "You sure this
thing runs?"

He grinned. "It got me here, didn't it?" He
flicked his head toward the car. "C'mon." He walked around and
opened the passenger's side. He waited.

I didn't move.

"How far are we going?" I said.

"Not far."

I still didn't move. I'd been stranded more
than enough in my own piece of crap. I didn't need to be stranded
in his piece of crap too. I glanced at my old Fiesta. It looked
like a luxury ride in comparison. It was probably more reliable
too.

"Wanna take my car?" I asked.

He laughed. "Not a chance."

I'm no car-snob, but I didn't understand what
was going on here. He had a whole fleet of vehicles in his garage.
Why on Earth would he want to drive this thing? More to the point,
why on Earth would he want to drive this thing today? With me?

Was this some sort of payback for what had
happened to his favorite hot rod?

"Trust me," he said, "it runs great."

I bit my lip. "I suppose you have a backup
plan if we get stranded?"

"We won't."

"I must be insane," I said as I finally
walked toward him and climbed into the car. He closed the
passenger's side door behind me, and walked around to get in the
driver's seat.

As I buckled up, I noticed something strange.
The car's interior was obviously old, but not half as ratty as the
outside. And it didn't have that old musty smell either. It smelled
not exactly new, but definitely fresh.

When he fired up the engine, something else
struck me. It didn't sound like an old beater either. I'm no car
expert, but the way the engine roared to life and settled into a
nice, steady purr, it made me wonder if there was more to this car
than I'd originally guessed.

As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, I
turned sideways in the seat to face him. "Alright. You know I'm
gonna ask, so let's just get it out of the way. Why this car?"

"What," he said, "you don’t like it?"

"Am I supposed to?"

Laughing, he gave me a sideways glance before
returning his gaze to the road. "Alright," he said, "as much as I'd
like to mess with you, I don't want you to worry."

"Too late for that," I said.

"So here's the thing," he said. "Where we're
going, I'd never take any of my other cars."

"Why not?"

"'Cause they're not as safe." He turned to
give me another glance. "And since I've got you here, I'm not
taking any chances."

"Oh come on," I said. "Be serious."

"I am serious. My other cars, they draw too
much attention."

"I don't want to be mean," I said, "but this
car? It'll get plenty of attention."

"Yeah? Well don't let the exterior fool you.
The engine, along with everything else under the hood, is in prime
condition. And it's fast too. A lot faster than it looks." He
lifted a hand and tapped the driver's side window. "And see this
glass? Bullet-proof."

I laughed. "Oh stop it."

"I'm not kidding."

I studied his face. Either he
was
telling the truth, or he had one hell of a poker face. "You
serious?" I said.

"Yup. And the wheels – "

"Don't tell me," I teased. "Also
bullet-proof?"

"Not exactly. But close."

"Oh c'mon," I said. "How can something be
sort of bullet-proof?"

"It's the way they're constructed," he said.
"Even if they're punctured, they'll keep going, at least long
enough."

"How?"

"Polymer rings."

"What's that?" I squinted at him. "Oh never
mind. You're just messing with me."

He didn't confirm or deny it. Instead, he
asked, "How good are you at keeping secrets?"

"Pretty good," I said.

Probably too good, at least according to
Erika.

"Glad to hear it," Lawton said. "Because I'm
counting on that."

I watched the road ahead, looking for clues
to our destination. "Is this where you tell me where we're
going?"

"Call it a trip down memory lane," he
said.

Considering his choice of car and his veiled
comments about wanting to keep me safe, I should probably be been
scared. But somehow, I wasn't.

It was like standing on the edge of some
cliff and looking down, feeling the danger, but clinging to safety.
I let my gaze shift to Lawton. He was sitting back in the driver's
seat, one hand over the steering wheel as he navigated the
afternoon traffic.

He was solid.
And
dangerous. I felt
myself swallow. And that's when I knew. If this thing were a cliff,
I was in big danger. Because so help me, I wanted to jump.

I turned sideways in the seat to face him.
"C'mon, give me a hint," I said.

It wasn't quite the peak of rush hour, but it
was getting close. We'd just made it out of the residential section
and were pulling onto I-75. Lawton slid into traffic, and eased
into the fast lane.

"You haven't guessed?" he said.

I had a rough idea of where he supposedly
grew up. From the street signs, it was easy to see which direction
we were heading. "Detroit?"

"Yup."

"Which part?"

As for me, I'd grown up in Hamtramck, a city
almost completely surrounded by Detroit. But I'd been avoiding
Detroit itself for years.

In high school, I used to spend a lot of time
in Greektown or sometimes on the Riverwalk. And once, I spent an
entire afternoon in the Institute of Arts, admiring the marble
structure outside, and hundreds of paintings inside.

But after Kimberly Slotka, a girl from my
American history class, got carjacked and pistol-whipped for her
used Camaro, I guess I just stayed away from the whole area. Most
of us did. Mostly we stuck to our own neighborhoods, or ventured
out into the suburbs.