Page 4 of Juno

Saint growled, actually growled, and tried to step around her. “Don’t you fucking talk to her that way,” he shouted. Juno put her arms out, trying to keep Saint behind her body, but it was getting harder to do with every passing second.

“Yeah, go on and tell me that you two aren’t together,” Bruno taunted.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Saint breathed from behind her.

“No, you’re not,” Juno insisted. “I need my job, Saint.”

“You should listen to your little girlfriend, Saint,” Bruno said. “Oh, and honey, you don’t work here anymore. You should just go ahead and clean out your locker now because if either of you ever come back here, I’ll have you both arrested. The cops will never believe you if you don’t work here.”

“Bruno,” Juno breathed, “I really need my job. If I’m not working, I can’t pay my rent and will have no place to live.” The thought of moving back in with her parents scared the hell out of her. If she had to beg and plead with Bruno to keep her job, she would.

“You son of a bitch,” Saint spat, trying to get around her. Juno didn’t have the energy to deal with him and Bruno.

“You should leave,” she insisted. “I can handle myself.”

“Really, Juno? Because when I walked in here, you weren’t doing a very good job of handling yourself. In fact, the only one I saw handling you was that asshole,” he said, looking over at Bruno.

“Take your phone, get your stuff, and get the fuck out,” Bruno growled, tossing her cellphone onto the concrete floor. She picked it up and noticed a crack running down the screen.

“You broke my screen,” she accused.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did, honey,” Bruno said. “Get your stuff.” Juno had nothing in her locker of importance. Just a few costumes and cosmetics. She generally didn’t wear makeup—especially not the kind she wore on stage.

“I don’t need anything from my locker. It’s just a few costumes. Give them to the other girls,” she breathed. She walked past Saint, not bothering to look at him because she was pretty sure that she’d see everything that she didn’t want to see staring back at her—anger, disgust, and maybe even pity. She didn’t need any of that from him. Right now, all she wanted to do was go home and try to figure out how she was going to pay for her apartment because her pretend job at the law firm wasn’t going to pay her very real bills.

* * *

She was almost to her car when Saint growled her name and damn it even that was sexy. Seeing him come to her rescue both pissed her off and had her swooning a bit. It was nice to have someone in her corner, especially tonight when Bruno got handsy. Juno didn’t want to even think about what might have happened if Saint hadn’t followed her into the club. The question was—why did he follow her in? She hadn’t even noticed that he was still in the parking lot. Was he watching her or was it just a coincidence?

Juno turned around to face him, walking straight into his chest. Saint put his arms around her, trying to keep her from falling. Unfortunately for her, she was a natural born klutz. Juno went down, taking Saint with her, and she was sure that she had done a bit of damage to them both.

“Fuck,” she spat, “why would you be right behind me, Saint?” She sounded as though she was accusing him of being the reason that they were both lying on the ground together.

“Don’t blame me for this,” he said, “you’re the one who lost your balance and pulled us both down to the pavement. Are you all right?”

“I will be,” she insisted, “I think I’m going to be just a bit banged up. I’ve had bruises before; I’ll heal.” She looked him over, realizing that he looked a little worse for wear. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I think that my arm might be busted. I landed on my left arm when we fell, trying to brace myself,” he said.

“You mean, as in broken?” Juno looked down at his arm and winced. She wasn’t a doctor, but it looked broken to her.

“Pretty much,” he said, “let’s get up off the ground and I’ll go get it looked at.”

“Wait,” she almost shouted.

“Did you hurt yourself and can’t get up?” He looked her over and she shook her head.

“No, I want to ask you a question,” she said.

“You want to have a fucking conversation while we sit on the ground?” he grumbled.

She shrugged, “You’ll answer my questions faster if you want to get your arm checked out.”

“I’m in a lot of pain here, honey,” he admitted. “How about you drive me to the emergency room, and I’ll answer your questions?” She felt like an ass for demanding that he sit on the ground with her while she questioned him.

“I’m sorry, of course you’re in pain. Get in my car and I’ll drive you to the ER,” she offered.

“Your car?” he asked, looking at it as though it had offended him in some way.

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