Page 35 of The Opposite Effect

The crew stops singing as they follow Clara’s swift bolt down the corridor leading to my office. After slipping inside, she closes the door so harshly, I’m sure the patrons dining at Betty’s Burgers felt the ripple effect.

I turn my eyes toward Diesel. “Open up the shop and tell my first client I’ll be out in a few.”

He nods before instructing the rest of the crew to get ready for a normal workday.

Charity smiles a tense grin as she hands me Clara’s birthday cake. “She’s still trying to find her place in this family, Brax.”

Nodding, I reply, “I know.” But I’m still shocked by Clara’s reaction. I shouldn’t be, though. Nothing about her has ever been simple.

After placing the cake on the break room table, I stride to my office. Clara’s head lifts from a barrage of paperwork on her makeshift desk on the couch when the creak of the door’s old hinges announces my arrival. Even though she puts on a brave front, I can’t miss the tears staining her blemished cheeks.

“We weren’t going to force you to eat it,” I jest, saying anything to ease the thick tension suffocating the room. “The guys just wanted to get you something for your birthday.”

From her silence, you’d assume she didn’t hear a thing I said, but from the way her chin is quivering, I know she heard every word.

I gather documents from the couch before taking the seat next to her. When she fails to acknowledge my presence, I place my index finger under her chin and lift her head. Her glistening glacier-blue eyes appear to be staring straight at me, but they’re looking right through me.

“What’s the deal? Don’t the rich celebrate birthdays?”

Now her eyes are focused on me, and they’re fierce enough they could cut through glass. “Does a card showing up a week after your birthday count?” she mutters ever so quietly.

I shrug. “Depends on what’s in the card? A check with a million bucks, I’d happily accept years later.”

Her lips twitch as she battles to hold in her smile, but she maintains her silent stance. I continue with my endeavor to force a smile on her face. Even if she can get my hackles up quicker than any woman before her, I hate seeing the dejected look her eyes are carrying, even more so since it’s her birthday.

“If you thought their singing was bad, wait until you see the wilted bunch of daisies waiting for you on the counter. Oh, and don’t be surprised when you open your box of chocolates to discover it’s half-empty. They’re an impatient bunch, but Johnny promised he saved you all the good flavors.”

The heaviness on my chest lessens when the quickest smirk stretches across Clara’s face. “They brought me gifts?” she murmurs ever so softly.

Her smirk turns into a full smile when I nod. “Nothing fancy,but they purchased them themselves. Well, except the flowers. Johnny stole them from his neighbor’s garden.”

Clara’s smile enlarges even more.

I wait for it to fade before saying, “I have one final thing to give you. It was a little hard to wrap, so I didn’t bother.”

Her surprised eyes bounce between mine when I delve my hand into my pocket and pull out a key. The longer she stares at the car key, the more her pupils dilate.

“It’s nothing like your old car, but it will get you from point A to point B safely,” I advise her shocked expression.

Her lips quiver as she begins to speak. “I can’t accept it, Brax. It’s too much.”

“You can accept it, and you will.” My voice is sterner than I expected. “This isn’t a gift, Clara. It is a payment for all those late nights you worked your first eight weeks at Inked.”

Her eyes snap to mine. Shock is all over her face as I stare into her eyes while nodding my head, silently advising I’m aware of the work she put into the shop after hours. I only discovered her strong work ethic after going through the surveillance tapes the day following our incident in the parking lot of Inked.

For the first eight weeks of her employment, Clara stayed back a minimum of an hour every night, restocking the supply closet and preparing the invoices for the following day. She even went as far as donning a pair of fur-lined pink gloves to tackle the male staff bathroom a handful of times. I could tell from the determination in her eyes those first few weeks that she’d do anything to secure a permanent position at Inked, but I didn’t realize her need for employment was so dire she was willing to scrub a urinal.

“I really needed the job,” she murmurs under her breath, confirming what I already suspected.

I gently pinch her chin and lift her eyes back to mine. “I know. But you didn’t need to break your back for it. Your work ethicduring the opening hours already earned you your place in the Inked family.” After setting the key for the piece-of-shit car the crew of Inked chipped in for into her palm, I nudge my head to the door. “Your new ride is in the lot. Take the rest of the day off and go spend your birthday with your friends. It will be a hard feat, but I will hold down the fort tonight.”

Clara’s teeth graze over her bottom lip. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Sure you do.” My eyes dart between hers. “There are at least a dozen restaurants in Ravenshoe that will happily serve vegetable scraps as if they’re a main course.”

A rare and genuine smile etches onto her plump lips. If that isn’t rewarding enough, the little giggle that spills with her smile is worth spending my days off scouring the used car lots searching for the perfect car for her. This is the first time I’ve heard her real laugh. I hope it isn’t the last.

When her laughter dies down, she locks her eyes with mine. “It isn’t that I don’t have a place to dine. I just don’t have anyone to go with me.” The last half of her sentence comes out in a faint whisper as her eyes stray to the floor.

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