Broken, page 4
On the subject of fantasies — Kate Armstrong was the epitome of every man’s dream girl. She had to be close to six feet tall, and ninety percent of that was legs. A perfect complement to Clay’s six-foot-and-a-few-inches’ frame. The fake platinum blonde wasn’t my thing, but then again, I was no man either.
My feet froze in place until Will rammed into my back. I held tight to the tray. I would’ve hated for Clay to wait a moment longer for his drink order.
“Seen a ghost? You’re paler than one,” Will whispered in my ear, and nudged his elbow into my side.
“No, sitting at table two is the president of my ‘I hate people’ group.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You’re the first girl that has ever uttered those words. Clay Carter is every girl in town’s dreamboat. If you don’t believe me, just ask him.” He nudged me again.
I put on a smile and headed to table two.
Kate turned her cat-like blue eyes on me, and I think grew claws.
What’s her problem? She had no idea that I’d ever taken a ride on Clay’s Harley and that I would’ve ridden something else. For that, I was grateful and hoped that would stay a secret from the whole town.
I placed the drink glasses on the table but did not bother taking their order, making table two Will’s responsibility.
I spent the next thirty minutes working the room, trying my damnedest to ignore Clay. The problem with that was his deep, lyrical voice was the only thing I heard. Two other couples had joined them after Will tried taking their order, and Clay had not stopped laughing since they showed up. He was happy. A switch from the last and first time I saw him. Why renting that house set him off was beyond me? He acted like I stole it from him.
Clay turned his head to look at me and shook his empty glass in the air signaling he needed a refill.
“Tea?” I asked, not much over a whisper to avoid drawing attention to myself.
“How do you know my dad?” Clay’s aquamarine-colored eyes met mine, and for the briefest of moments, I saw a flash of regret in them.
“Who?”
“Wes Carter?” Clay leaned back and put his arm behind the chair Kate was sitting on.
Other than our very odd encounter?
“I don’t. I mean, he’s been in, but I don’t know him.” My stomach twisted in knots, confused at why he would ask such a question.
Clay looked away to continue his earlier conversation with the guy on his left when Kate laid her head on his shoulder. They matched, and I couldn’t deny the intimacy between them.
I hurried to the safety of the kitchen where John handed me a tray overflowing with food.
“Baby doll, you seriously need a night off. You look exhausted,” John said.
“Need the money more than I need the rest.”
“Whatever,” he said, and shoved the platter in my hands. “Sorry, but I have to mix up some chili. Will you carry these to table two and the infamous Mr. Carter?”
“Of course, it would do him some good to see what a real woman looks like. Though by the looks of his date, he might prefer fake.”
“Some people can’t handle real.” John winked and held the door opened while I carried the drinks out.
I went to the far end of the table Clay was sitting at. The farther I stayed away from him, the better. I placed a salad in front of Kate. She picked up a piece of chopped cauliflower.
“What is this shit?” Kate asked, and scrunched up her nose.
“Cauliflower. Don’t worry; it won’t go to your hips. It’s safe,” the Bubbly Ginger to the left said, and I fought back a smile.
The urge to smile vanished when I felt the heat of Clay’s gaze on me. That stupid knot I’ve had in my stomach all night grew tighter.
I had to lean over Clay to place the ginger’s plate in front of her. His shoulder rubbed up against my lower stomach. I had to quell my reaction and focus on my job, a job I was thankful for before meeting Clay.
Why does Clay make me nervous? Guys didn’t affect me that way. I felt nothing with them, not nerves.
“Thanks, Annie,” Clay said, in the same tone he used with me when I hopped on that bike with him. “Care for a piece of cake?” There was a touch of remorse in his voice somewhere hidden behind all the husky sultriness.
I scanned the table to see a small white cake with the words, “Happy Birthday, Clay” on top.
Clay was celebrating his birthday with the people he cared about. I would never be in that category.
I shook my head as the dream I had of us on the back of his motorcycle flashed in my head. Damn, of all places to think of that particular dream. Not only my face, but also my whole body heated in response.
Too bad, that spot on his bike had been reserved for someone other than me.
****
Clay Carter
The pain in my legs was strong, but I reminded myself it was pain from living and nothing else. At my appointment that morning, I had a consultation with Dr. Tucker. It was one of those, no news were good news visits. I left with an appointment card to come back in three months to start some trial treatment or sooner if any more problems arose.
Happy freaking birthday to me.
I’d reached the point where I just wanted to live to the fullest.
But the fullest seemed futile with Kate on my arm and Annie doing everything in her power to ignore me. It was frustrating. Annie was not the girl I needed, but it didn’t stop me from closing my eyes when I was with Kate, dreaming she was Annie. A low move, I know. Another sin written in the book of Clay, and Kate deserved more.
Annie deserved for me to leave her alone, but I’ve never done what I should.
It was easy spotting Annie in the small room. The catching of her gaze was another story. When she looked my way, I shook my empty glass in the air, broadcasting my need for a refill. Annie didn’t even try to disguise her distaste at being near me.
“Tea?” she asked, and drew her shoulders in, trying to hide in plain sight. Didn’t she know she was too beautiful to ever hide?
“How do you know my dad?” I caught her stare, and my heart cracked at the lost expression in her eyes.
“Who?”
“Wes Carter?” I leaned back and put my arm behind the chair Kate was sitting on, proving to Annie what a son-of-a-bitch I was.
Precious, I don’t want Kate, but you’re too good for me. Precious, what the hell? No one was precious, but something told me Annie was.
“I don’t. I mean, he’s been in, but I really don’t know him.”
I couldn’t take the sweet melancholy of her voice knowing I’d hurt her, so I looked away to pretend I cared what the guy on my left had to say.
Kate laid her head on my shoulder. I zoned out before I did something I would regret again.
Chapter 5
Annie López
Once I had clocked out and left behind the misery of the night, there was only one place I wanted to go — to see my mom.
It was a long walk. Lanier Cemetery sat at the edge of town, but over the past few weeks, it had become a familiar route.
I circled to the backside of the courthouse, passed by five churches, cut a path through two cotton fields, and then climbed up a small hilltop.
The only proof my mom even lived was a small marble headstone. It was in a back corner under a massive oak tree. The oddity of it all was that not one person claimed to have known her. Yet someone had purchased her a headstone, and the inscription on it informed me someone loved her.
I sat down and wiped my hand over the cold marble.
My Beloved
Not even a gravesite
can dim the love
we shared
Evie López
8-8-75—7-14-95
She was the same age I presently found myself.
“Hey, Mom,” I whispered, and curled my legs under me. “I still haven’t learned anything about you. There is so much to your story, and someone loved you. I’ll find your secrets. I’ll learn who you were, who I am.”
I always whispered there. I knew I wouldn’t wake the dead, but I told my mom all my deepest secrets. And the last thing I wanted was for them to land in the ears of some eavesdropper.
Yes, I was an eavesdropper. Double standard? Of course.
I didn’t have a choice but to be nosey. It was the only way I survived my teen years. I just wanted to be close to someone. My mother would have sufficed if only I would have known her.
I leaned back against the oak tree and sat there. The tears started easy enough, but it was the lump in my throat that caused the greatest pain. I just wanted someone to love me. I wanted my dad. Was he the man killed with my mom? Or, a man that threw me away?
“Say something, Momma. Tell me what to do.”
My backpack slipped down my arm and plopped to the ground. I brushed the pink tie out of my hair, releasing my disheveled locks to fall over my shoulders, and took the art book from my backpack.
In the darkness, the moon cast down an almost eerie glow, the perfect light to draw by. For some reason, the creative juices flowed near my mother’s grave. It sounded silly, but I’d prayed she would send me a clue through my art.
Art was a passion of mine; drawing had been a way to get my feelings out in a more constructive form. I drew every moment I found myself alone, but I’d never shared my art with anyone.
An hour had passed, and still, I was in no hurry to leave. The picture I was working on was coming together when I realized I had drawn Clay and that damn Harley. I ripped the page out of my book and tossed it across the cemetery. There was no way my mom would send him to me. I wasn’t crazy. Matter of fact, I was acutely aware that my mom couldn’t talk or send me anything. But I liked to think a part of her still lived on in me, and I could tap into that part. Sometimes it seemed to work; sometimes it didn’t.
A burst of frigid wind fanned over my face and ruffled my hair along my neckline, causing a rush of fear to rake down my spine. I jammed everything in my backpack and started to pick up my hair tie when I heard shuffling coming from the opposite side of the cemetery.
I paused as I stood and touched my mom’s headstone one more time. “Bye, Momma. I’ll be back real soon.”
I started to walk down the hill toward town. The closer I got, the more uncomfortable I felt. I tried to ignore it — the tingling of my skin, the fine hair on my arms standing up, the awareness of being watched. Eyes seemed to be everywhere, following me. Someone appeared to be moving amongst the trees.
I circled around and screamed, “Is anybody here? Anybody?”
A shadow flashed across the ground. I took off running, through the cotton, past the churches, and didn’t slow down until I stood in the middle of the court square. I placed my hands on top of my head and took a deep accelerated breath.
Maybe there was nothing back there. Perhaps, I just panicked. It wasn’t like I’d never been followed before.
****
Clay Carter
My mind had trouble comprehending what I was looking at. Annie had been drawing a picture of me. Why? I slid down the trunk of the tree to sit on the cold, hard ground.
I didn’t mean to scare her. I was getting a closer look. I wasn’t stalking her, exactly… just unable to get her out of my mind.
When I went to park my bike in the garage, I saw a figure out in the old family cemetery. Annie. I had seen her a few times back there visiting a small grave for an Evie López. My dad told me it was a woman who had worked for them when she died in a car wreck, and since she had no living family, Granny Ann had her buried on the hill. The tombstone inscription was confusing as hell. Dad told me that a man placed it there a few years after her death, but he had no idea who it was.
The inscription started to make sense when I stormed off in that kitchen at the Downtown Cafe, and my eyes locked with a pair of green eyes so damn sexy I was sure I was hallucinating. If Evie had anything in common with Annie, no man could walk away.
I should know… I’ve tried.
I’d spent the past two weeks trying to forget how it felt when I was with Annie. Nothing came close to having Annie’s arms wrapped around me.
On the ground, the moon highlighted a glimmer of pink silk. I picked it up and rubbed it through my fingers before bringing it up to touch my lips.
I crumpled up the picture she had been drawing and threw it across the cemetery.
Annie was living in my dad’s fuck pad. I no longer cared. I wanted what she had to offer.
Who was I kidding? I never got what I wanted.
Whoever started the urban legend that I did obviously never took the time to know me. So, I guess it could have been anybody.
Chapter 6
Annie López
John stood in the kitchen grinning when I walked in. “Thought our girl had the night off?”
“I did, but Bob called and said the place was going to hell without me.”
“The place is hell ... with or without you. Sorry to burst your bubble,” Will said and handed me an apron.
“Touché. You know the place is a little brighter with my bitchy personality around.” I tied the apron around my waist and tucked a pen behind my ear. “Time to shine.” I picked up a pitcher of sweet tea and smiled as I bumped the doors to the dining room open with my hip.
There were only a handful of customers sprinkled around. I took down their orders and refilled a few glasses of sweet tea before heading back to hand in my tickets.
John had already filled two of Will’s orders and held them up when I walked back into the kitchen. “Here, if you don’t mind. Will’s too busy flirting with the girl at table two.”
Better her than me.
“Got’em, handsome,” I replied, and took the platters from John.
I delivered the burgers and refilled two soft drinks before taking the order of a new customer. All while Will lingered at table two. I wouldn’t complain. At least he had given up on me. I wasn’t ready for a relationship with anybody. I had one goal to achieve: learn about my dad and then leave that hellhole.
Will headed to the kitchen as I punched an order into the computer. He saluted me and grinned. “She’s hot,” I said, and raised my hand to give Will a high five.
He slapped my hand back, but informed me it was his cousin who was down visiting his grandmother.
Damn, I had to find him a girl.
I gathered the orders John had finished onto my tray then returned to the dining room.
When I saw him … or them?
Clay sat at a table with his head tilted toward some brunette. She wasn’t as alluring as Kate, but prettier in a more natural sense. Her cheekbones were high and emphasized the perfect pout to her lips.
He leaned in closer to her like he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was saying. She laughed.
My eyes went from the brunette’s face back to Clay’s, and I came eye to eye with his intense stare. I had no idea what to do. Should I smile or look away? I copied his lead, but he refused to look elsewhere. He continued to watch me until little Miss. Brunette started nibbling on his neck.
I felt my tray wobble. I had to hold it together. I worked at the only restaurant in town and had no choice but to see Clay with a number of girls. But seeing him gave my heart a strange new ache and caused my stomach to lurch into my chest. Hearing that girl’s laughter made me just a little jealous.
Okay, a lot jealous.
He didn’t even take the time to make me laugh. Clay would never parade me around town, but I would have liked him to take the time to whisper something funny in my ear.
No one had ever taken the time to make me laugh. I’d cried myself to sleep too many nights after allowing someone to use me and promised myself I would never do it again. But when Clay called me beautiful, I let myself believe he meant it. I guess that was my latest mistake.
“Breathe, Annie,” Will said, and walked up behind me. I took a deep breath, not realizing I’d panicked.
How could Clay incite this kind of reaction in me with only a simple glance? Because I was a masochist looking for a punishment.
That was why I had to keep my distance from Clay and anyone else in the small town of Carterville.
“Can you remind me again why I agreed to come in on my night off?” I managed to ask, without my voice changing five octaves.
“To be with me. Why else?” Will said.
When Clay saw me, he left, and the rest of the night flew by. All I wanted was a hot bath and my bed.
****
Clay Carter
I have had two semi-regulars in my life: Kate Armstrong and Margo Presley. Kate made my mother happy. Margo made me happy when I was with her. Annie made me happy by thinking about her, but she was the “do not touch” girl. I had no choice but to leave her alone.
I’d tried giving Margo a chance last night, but seeing Annie ruined any hopes of that happening. Then I thought I could give Kate one more go. That was how I found myself squashed between Kate and some guy with a matronly hairstyle named Cruz and his date, whose name I couldn’t care less about. She meant nothing to me; just another one of Kate’s sorority sisters.
I focused on some picture of a thoroughbred hanging on the wall across the room, not even interested in the talk around me.
I’d always believed double dates were a waste of time. What would anybody gain by spending time with another couple? If the other couple was happy and in love, would it rub off? Not on me. I’d never let someone else influence me.
“Are you okay?” Kate whispered, and squeezed my thigh to gain my attention.
I faked a smile and nodded my head, wracked with guilt. Kate was entitled to more than I could ever offer. Or wanted to offer.
“Here you go, good-looking,” a waitress said, and winked before sliding a plate of cheese sticks over toward me.
The waitress was hot and didn’t hide the fact she was willing and available. I didn’t even acknowledge her. I might’ve been an ass, but I’d never once played two girls on the same night.
Everyone else ordered salads — even Cruz. He had already complained earlier about the sweetener ration of his virgin martini. I’d offered him a cheese stick and rolled my eyes when he fluttered his hands in the air at the thought of so many calories in one bite. That guy was so happy; I was sure he shit unicorns and rainbows out at night.
