Page 26 of Unbelonging
"Actually, I do have plans," I said, hearing the regret in my own voice. With a mental effort, I shoved that regret away. "In fact, I'd better get going if I don't want to be late."
I realized we were no longer walking. Chucky had flopped down on the sidewalk, lying across Lawton's shoes like he wanted nothing more than to bask in his mere presence. I knew the feeling.
"How about tomorrow night?" he asked.
I was working tomorrow too. This was probably a good thing. It would be easy to lose control with a guy like him. Besides, when I did have free time, it usually fell during the day. "Nights are bad for me," I said.
He looked at me a long time, as if trying to figure out exactly what I was telling him. "So, if you don't mind my asking, who do you live with, anyway?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You're the only one I've seen hanging around." He flicked his head toward the Parkers'. "I'm guessing that's your parents' house? They out of town?"
At this, alarm bells started going off in my head. On the surface, the question might be harmless enough. But it bothered me that he'd noticed. Probably I should've been flattered. Hell, it was flattering that he noticed me at all.
Still, I didn't like the idea of letting anyone know I was staying in the house alone, especially since the house wasn't actually mine.
I didn't want to lie. But for too many reasons to count, I certainly wasn't going to reveal that the home-owners were out of the country. In a lame attempt to deflect his train of thought, I pointed in the general direction of his place. "Are you living inyourparents' house?" I asked.
His face froze, becoming oddly devoid of emotion as he said, "No. Haven't for a while."
Oh crap. It suddenly hit me. I was such an idiot. Why'd I bring up his parents? Did he even have parents? In everything I'd read, the details had been vague about that too.
"Sorry," I said.
His voice was soft. "No." He was now staring past me, his eyes vacant. Then, as if shaking off a bad memory, he returned his gaze to mine and shrugged. "I asked, you asked. No big deal." With a tight smile, he handed me Chucky's leash.
Silently, I took it. The leather felt warm in my cool hand. "Will you be walking tomorrow?" I asked in a lame attempt to get beyond the awkwardness.
He shrugged. "Hard to say." He glanced toward his house. "I gotta run." And then he turned away. A moment later, he began walking slowly toward his house, his head down, his fists tight. Still holding the leash, the warmth of the leather faded, leaving me feeling oddly alone as I turned away, trudged into the Parkers', and got ready for work.
Chapter 15
I ignored the pat on my ass and summoned up something meant to be a flirty smile as I took the guy's order. He ordered, surprise of all surprises, the usual – spareribs and bourbon. After fifty-something years on this Earth, I guess he knew what he liked.
"Although," he added, licking his wet lips," I wouldn't mind a little extra, if you know what I mean."
Unless by extra he meant a kick in the pants, he wasn't getting anything extra from me. Still, I choked down the bile and gave his hand a playful slap. "Shame on you, Mister Bolger." I tossed my hair, and turned to flounce away. "I'mnotthat kind of girl," I said over my shoulder as I hustled away from him.
Heading toward the bar for his bourbon, I could still feel his hand on my ass. Josie was standing at the end of the long counter, adding limes to a tray of margaritas.
"He's such a creep," I said under my breath.
Josie glanced out toward my table. "Bolger?" She gave a half-shrug. "Guess the guy expects his money's worth." She flashed me a smile. "Hey, want me to take him?"
The offer was tempting, and I knew why she made it. It wasn't for my sake, or at least it wasn'tallfor my sake. Bolger tipped a dozen tables' worth, which was exactly why Josie, along with every other girl who worked here, jumped at the chance to wait on him.
Customers weren't allowed to touch us. But since no one was complaining, especially the ones actually being touched, he got away with the occasional – okay, more than occasional – pat and enough innuendo to fill a bad skin flick.
He made me feel cheap, not because he paid extra to take a few minor liberties here and there, but because I actually let him.
No one forced me to wait on him. And no one forced me to ignore the random pats or inappropriate commentary. I could stop him any time I wanted. So why didn't I?
I knew the answer. It was the same reason none of the girls did. And it wasn't the guy's sex appeal.
Bolger was no Lawton Rastor. He was a squat, middle-aged man with two ex-wives, wandering hands, and more money than class. If he didn't tip like some kind of mogul, there's no way they'd be fighting over him.
Unfortunately, or fortunately I guess, Bolger had been requesting my section lately. Technically, thanks to Keith's stupid rotational assignment brainstorm, I didn't have a section of my own, but it didn't matter.
