Page 78 of Amethyst Flame
But I had to stay and fight.
What other choice did I have?
But in the meantime, I climbed into the backseat, curled up into a little ball, and cried until I fell asleep.
I woke up with the rising sun glaring through the windows at me. Ugh. My eyes were grittier than the roadside gravel, and my tongue was worse.
If Mom had never hurt her back and I’d stayed in California in art school… If I’d never gamed with Brayden and Jacob… If I’d let Rique clean out the clogged slushy machine with the hidden bag of molecular robots…
By the time I got back to Arbolito, I was dying for a fruity drink.
Ah, irony.
No way in hell would I respond to the screenful of texts from Jacob-Dane, Swann, and, now, my suspicious mom.
Saturday mornings were always busy at the Desert Freeze with the soccer moms and kids, the early shopping crowds, and the hungover-ain’t-been-home-yet Friday night partiers. But it wasn’t too bad today. I parked, went inside, and used the bathroom, then slipped around back to make myself the biggest, yummiest smoothie ever.
It was not pomegranate.
Rique glared at me as he filled the various orders. He always took weekend mornings and claimed to enjoy them—another mark against him in my book but it’d always made scheduling a breeze.
“When you get a break, come sit with me,” I told him. He grumbled with his eyes and body language without saying a word as I settled at one of the small tables in the front.
I stared out at the traffic pulling past the window, not really seeing it, drawing one finger idly through the puddle of condensation on the table. The water evaporated without leaving a mark. Rique did keep the place sparkling even when I wasn’t around.
Eventually he had no more excuses not to follow my order, and he plunked down in the chair across from me. “You look terrible,” he said.
I kept my expression bland. “Thanks. I’m quitting. So all this is yours now.”
He stiffened. “You’re not just fucking with me?”
“Rique,” I said with great seriousness. “I can’t think of anything I’d joke about less.”
A tentative smile flickered on his mouth, maybe the first time ever? “I knew you had that internship, but I figured for sure you’d be back here eventually.”
Ouch. That hurt even more than his comment on my looks. But the harsh truth of his assessment only reassured me I was making the right choice. No matter what happened, I wouldn’t be back here—I took a sip of my smoothie—unless I needed a cheap and tasty drink, of course.
“I haven’t talked to Shirleen yet,” I cautioned him. “But I will recommend you for the manager position.”
He nodded. “Like there’s anyone else.” We shared the quick eye roll over our coworker Amanda and her miserable excuse for a work ethic, even worse than mine if that were possible.
“But also,” I went on, “you’ve always been a hard worker, and you care about this place.”
“Now youarefucking with me,” he said. “But that’s all right because I have your job.”
I smirked. “You do. Congratulations.”
The drive-thru alert dinged, announcing another thirsty customer, but Rique hesitated. “Good luck with whatever you’re doing next. I hope you don’t come back.”
“Me too,” I assured him.
When I went to push some money across the table to cover my drink, he shook his head. “I got it.”
That was more than I could claim.
He went back to work while I finished my breakfast and texted my formal resignation to Shirleen and told her she’d always been great too. She replied she was at her hairdresser’s and she wanted to speak with me.
And, yeah, I guess I owed her a phone call for all she’d done for me, especially since I’d been such a shitty manager. But I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth at the moment.
