Page 7 of Scooter's Endgame
“Anytime, brother. Anytime.” With that, he hops in and starts her up. I keep walking toward my own, waving in response to his hoot as he drives by.
A lonely night at home doesn’t appeal to me, but the choice of single friends to hang out with is now down to two since everyone else seems to be hooking up. Dialing Digit’s number, I listen to it ring as I climb into my own vehicle.
“Hey, hey. What’s up.”
“You got plans for this evening?” I ask without preamble.
“Nothing earth shattering. Just some tube and a couple cold ones before bed. What you got going on?”
“Absolutely zero. And I’m seriously not in the mood for my own company tonight. Up for going to grab a burger or something?”
“Yeah, I’m in. Where and when?”
We toss some ideas around and finally settle on a burger joint roughly halfway between our homes. “Think Gator’d be interested in joining us?”
“Probably. I’ll give him a call while you head for home to change. I’ll let you know what he says.”
“Sounds like a plan. Speak to you later.”
Since my apartment isn’t too far from base, I’m home in next to no time. I dash through the shower, and within fifteen minutes I’ve spoken to Digit and am on my way to meet him and Gator for dinner. A night at home with nothing but my thoughts for company successfully avoided.
4
KATHLEEN
It’s been a week since Jeff kicked me out of the house, and I’m trying really hard to stay positive, to not panic. We’ve been staying at a women’s shelter, and while it’s not that expensive, the cost of storing our few belongings is eating into my meagre savings.
I need to find a job, but no one is willing to take me on. Since I had Luke just out of school and have been a stay-at-home mom at Jeff’s insistence, I have zero work experience. Because of it, they won’t take a chance on me.
Tonight, I’m trying Aces to see if they have any openings. I don’t know what I’ll do if I strike out here. Waiting for the manager, I have a knot in my stomach.
“Hey, sorry for making you wait. I’m Jessyka, how can I help you?” A pale woman, with a pronounced limp and a pretty smile, rushes into the office.
Returning her smile, I reply, “No problem. I’m Kathleen Pierce. I’m here to enquire about a job.”
“Ah, I see. Do you have any experience?”
The knot in my stomach tightens. Taking a deep breath, I answer her. “No, ma’am. But I’m a quick study, and I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”
Jessyka takes her time answering me. And while it’s the expected one, I’m still devastated. “You know, I believe that. Unfortunately, I don’t have any openings at the moment. But if you give me your details, I’ll keep you in mind for when we do.”
I do my best to give her a convincing smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” I take the piece of paper and pen she slides across the desk and fill it in before sliding it back. Fighting back the tears of defeat, I get to my feet and hold out a hand. “Thanks for your time. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“No bother. You take care now.”
“Thanks. You too.” I exit her office with my shoulders back and my chin up. The last thing I want to do is humiliate myself by crying in public yet again because of the consequences of Jeff’s actions.
I make it as far as the bar. Beckett is sitting there nursing what looks to be juice of some kind. He’s clearly waiting for someone and, exhausted and emotional, I can’t help but wish it were me. In fact, there’s little I wouldn’t give for it to be me. The man is indecently hot, but more than that, he’s just a terrific guy. Sweet, patient, attentive.
And that’s when I lose the battle to stem the tears that have been threatening. As they stream down my face, I duck my head and make a dash for the ladies’ restroom, praying he won’t see me.
Lost in an emotional haze, I have no idea how long I hide out in the stall, giving vent to all the pent-up feelings that have been riding me hard all week. Living with an alcoholic gambler for a mother, I learned early on in life that the world doesn’t care about you. You’ve got to fend for yourself, and if you want anything, you’ve got to fight for it yourself. Nobody’s coming to save you.
So I learned to survive, to be self-sufficient, to be strong. And then I met Jeff, and repeated history by getting involved with another gambler, unknowingly. The only saving grace in this situation is that he isn’t an alcoholic to boot. Not that it’s turned out any better.
Because there’s only so many punches you can roll with before one takes you down. And I’m afraid this is the one that might just do it. However, I simply can’t afford that with a sick little boy to look after and only myself to rely on.
God, I’m must look an absolute mess, with mascara and snot running down my face, red and swollen eyes, and a nose that could give Rudolph a good run for his money. I now have a pounding headache on top of all of that, and limited time to pull myself together before I have to fetch Luke from a friend’s house.
