Page 3 of Eat Your Heart Out
2
Ali
Until the ride, I’d been sure I was cursed. My ex had tossed my stuff out and sold my damn car without my permission. I never should have let him keep his name on the registration and title.
For the first time in my life, I was officially homeless. After my all-night shift, I would have to figure out a new place to live with my paycheck. After the breakup, I’d intended to get my paycheck and figure out how to hold out until Friday.
The only good thing that came from the storm was riding in a Porsche. It was even prettier on the inside than I’d imagined. Other people who hadn’t had shit luck had cushy seats and no suspicious sounds coming from their engines.
The manager pointed me to the side office, and I assumed it was about what my ex had done yesterday, as we both worked there. My boss droned on, and I didn’t pay attention until he said, “You’re fired.”
I placed my hand on my hip. He had to be joking. I flipped my horribly dyed hair behind my ears. “What do you mean I’m fired? Why isn’t John?”
The manager opened the door so others might hear. “He told us it was you.”
I rubbed my forehead. That day was going in the books as the worst day of my life, probably topping my mother’s death. “You have me on camera at the time of the theft. I was working customer service returns.”
He stepped outside. “Look, the decision was made about which one of you to keep, and it wasn’t you.”
My brain wasn’t processing what had happened at all. It was like the logic of what I’d heard had jumbled with reality. My shoulders slumped. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Go back to wherever you came from,” he said quickly.
My skin buzzed.Sure, I wasn’t born in Virgin Cove, but so what?I was still a person. I glared at him. “Fuck you.” Then I stormed past him and tossed my blue vest on the ground. I was done there.
A tear escaped my eye, though no one would notice, as I was soaked.
First, I needed to figure out where to go and wait for my damn paycheck. Then I would get on the bus and get out of the community that kept to themselves.
As I stepped outside and gazed up at the dark clouds, I wanted to scream. I lowered my head and stepped into the parking lot to disappear, when I ran into Mr. Porsche again. I hugged my waist, unsure why he would stop in front of me.
He asked, “Everything okay?”
I swallowed hard, and lightning cracked in the distance. Adrenaline rushed through me, and I lifted my chin, not caring about the rain. “Are you following me?”
He offered me his umbrella. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
I stepped closer. He smelled good, clean, and that cologne of his was hypnotic. I would not let the rain ruin him, so I shared with him. “Well, I’m… fired. I have no car, no apartment. I’m pretty much fucked. You probably don’t want to be near this train wreck.”
He guided me to the passenger side of his car. Tension rocketed through me, but I had no other options. He hadn’t killed me last time, so I went.
Once he joined me in the driver’s seat, he asked, “How good are you at waitressing?”
My eyes widened. It was an odd place for a job interview. I coughed. “What?”
The lightning and thunder were so close together, like a snap, and the rain grew worse outside his car.
He didn’t start the engine and instead said, “I’m heading out on my yacht the day after tomorrow, and I still need a waitress on board. The job comes with room and board, though we’ll be at sea for most of the year.”
I narrowed my gaze and studied him. Either he was an angel or far worse than John had ever been. I hadn’t caught a break in years, but I couldn’t figure out why a rich guy like him would do that for me. Unless this was it, and he was truly depraved, though my heart whispered that I was fine.
I froze in the seat as I asked, “A year of work? Or is this your way of picking me up?”
He shrugged, and he might have blushed for a second. Then he said, “Maybe both, but if you’re truly stuck and don’t want the job, I can get you a room at my parents’ for the night.”
Classy guys had nothing in common with girls like me.
I rolled my eyes, waiting for what would happen next. “Right. Your parents’?”
