Page 32 of Pray for the Damned

First, I got the job at the Scarlet Lounge, which has been a godsend even after just a few shifts. The tips are life-changing, and I’m not even being dramatic.

Three shifts worth and I’ve been able to get my power turned back on, I’ve caught up on all the bills I’ve had in arrears, and I even had enough leftover to buy a few extra dresses for work. In fairness, they were thrifted, but I’ve been making do with mostly the same wardrobe since I left my father’s house in the dead of night when I was sixteen.

Buying new clothes has never been a luxury I could afford. Until now.

Emmett has been notably absent from the club the last couple of times I’ve worked, but I try not to take it personally. He’s probably just busy, and when he dropped me off last week, he made it sound like he was all in.

“Waverly!” Denise snaps, and I jump, almost spilling the pile of plates I’m carrying to the kitchen. “I need you to work tonight.”

“I can’t. I have a shift at my other job.”

“What other job?”

“The one I had to get when you cut my hours.” The words fall from my lips before I can swallow them.

“Excuse me?” She glares at me. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that? Girls like you are a dime a dozen.”

I force the anger down, even as it simmers to the top and threatens to boil over. “I just meant that in order to make ends meet, I got a second job.”

“Well, call out for that because I need you here.”

I consider my options as my arms scream at me to put down the stack that I’ve already been holding for too long. I can’t call in sick for the Scarlet Lounge in my second week. Plus, I’ll earn more there in a six-hour shift than I will if I pull a twelve-hour day here. But if I refuse Denise, she’ll make my life hell here, and I’m not quite ready to quit this job yet. I want to make sure the tips I’ve gotten so far aren’t a fluke and make sure I’m paid the generous hourly rate that was printed on the paperwork Wyatt gave me. It seemed too good to be true, but everything has been pretty above board so far. I’ll wait to receive my first paycheck before I make any rash decisions.

“Waverly?” Denise crosses her arms across her chest.

“I can’t tonight, Denise. Maybe ask Sally if she can come in? I know she was looking for more shifts,” I offer, hoping she’ll take the suggestion as just that and not some kind of attempt to undermine her authority. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as argumentative as she is.

“Look, I’ve been good to you, but if I can’t rely on you to work when I need you to, I’ll have to find someone who will.” She shrugs and walks away. The fact we didn’t come to a resolution doesn’t sit well with me, and a familiar anxiety begins to eat at me. Maybe she’s right. She has been good to me despite all her faults. She’s always made sure I have a meal here before I gohome. She gave me extra shifts when I needed them. What if things go to hell at the Scarlet Lounge and I’m left with no job at all?

I’m so lost in my own panic that I don’t see the huge body before it slams into me, knocking me off my feet along with the stack of plates.

A sharp pain radiates through my side as I hit the ground with a cry, jagged pieces of porcelain slicing into my bare arms.

“Joe, what the fuck?” Terry, one of the older waitresses, rushes toward us, her eyes set on the big man that knocked me over. Her hands are on her hips as she stares at him expectantly.

Joe looks down at me with a frown, his deep chestnut eyes filled with regret. He’s been coming in here for longer than I’ve been working here, and he’s always been nice to all us girls. “Shit, sorry, Waverly! I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s okay,” I say through gritted teeth, but the agony is threatening to overwhelm me. It’s been a long time since my body has had to accept pain on a regular basis, and it’s certainly not accustomed to it anymore.

Joe and Terry both drop down to help me, but Denise’s screech has us all pausing in place. “Could you cause any more problems for me?” She glares down at me. “You know what, you’re not worth any of this shit. Get out.”

“Denise, it was my fault. I knocked into her,” Joe says, his eyes frantic. His body may be larger than life, but I learned early on that he’s the nicest guy that comes into this shithole.

“I don’t care. Get out and forget about your last paycheck. I’ll need to replace all the plates you broke.”

My mouth falls open, but there are no words between the pain and the shock of the situation.

I knew things were going too well for me, this is just proof of that.

Terry looks like she’s about to argue with her, but I shake my head. The last thing she needs is to be fired as well when she has two kids depending on her to put food on the table. At least it’s just me if I end up on the streets again.

“Clean up the mess before you go,” Denise snaps before turning on her heel and heading toward the office at the back of the building.

“What a cunt,” Joe rumbles, and a surprised laugh bursts from my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that word, and it sounds almost comical coming from him.

“You got that right,” Terry agrees under her breath. “I’m so sorry, Waverly.”

“It’s okay.” I sigh and push myself to my feet, ignoring the blood rolling down my arms and the sharp pain in my side. I’ll have to wait until I get home to get myself cleaned up. “It was only a matter of time.”

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