Page 11 of Blood of the Sirens
“Knew how many witnesses there were to what you said to me, and then what you tried to do. Don’t lie,” I spat back and swung a leg over my bike, tucking my skirt into my leggings so it wouldn’t catch in the chain. I could have let it go at that, but I wanted to twist the knife a little more.
“I wonder what your fiancé would say if I shot her a little text about what you did, and about what you keep trying to do?”
His face went purple with rage, but he fell silent and backed off.
Coward.
“Piss off, Archie,” I sneered.
My tires spat gravel up in his face, and I pedaled as hard as I could for as long as I could. Once I reached the shoulder of the main road, I let the tears fall. I had about a forty-five minute ride. Plenty of time to have a small-sized cry,purge what feelings I had for my miserable existence, then put on a smile for customers.
Archie knew how devastated I’d been to get kicked out of the program for something I had no control over. But I’d do it all again in a heartbeat versus taking him up on his stupid offer: he wanted a fuck buddy while his betrothed was away in Spain on a fellowship. Archie claimed that in exchange for my unquestioned willingness and resulting silence, he’d get me back in the program, no questions asked.
I hated rich boys who had daddies in high places.
Most of the time, I told him to fuck off. Other times, it was more difficult. Like tonight, when I raced from one job to the next, desperate to make ends meet. Or when I was cleaning up puke from some snot-nosed kid in the bathroom, and accidentally ran into my old group of fellow students, heads bent at a nearby table, eagerly debating the newest technique they’d learned.
When they saw me, they always got quiet and nervous. Embarrassed, even.
God, it hurt.
Those times, I half-considered it. It would suck, but not as much as telling my grandparents I’d been kicked out of the program.
Actually, I wasn’t sure which one of those things would be worse.
I pedaled harder, relishing the burn in my muscles. I didn’t care if I sweat through my dress, or arrived with my hair a frazzled mess around my face. It felt good to expel my demons physically, if not in reality.
The evening lights twinkled against the waterfront as I passed restaurant after restaurant, and microbrewery after microbrewery. Festive lanterns hung on outdoor patios, and the sounds of live bands hit me here and there as I quickly passedthem. The crowds were light now, but starting tomorrow tourists would start arriving for spring break, or as we referred to it ‘hell week.’ For us, anyway. The owners loved itandhated it because as rude, loud, and demanding as the spring break crowd was, those kids wereloaded.Many businesses made more from this upcoming week than they did all summer.
The scent of the ocean hit me in the face, along with the smell of rotting fish and seaweed: the Calash docks.
Why did I stay at the aquarium? I’d make more as a waitress.
You don’t care about money.
And didn’t that just suck? I knew I couldn't let go of the aquarium. Doing so meant letting go of my dreams; of me. I couldn’t do it, not yet. Plus, the aquarium offered better wages than the other jobs nearby and a bit of health insurance. And I cared about the animals.
Somehow I had to.
At night, I served cocktails and drinks to the wealthy patrons aboard theLucky Lady, a notorious gambling boat that made eight trips out to international waters a week. I hadn’t been happy at first, but it was one of the few jobs that was completely compatible with the aquarium.
I hopped off my bike and dug out my lock, attaching it to a rusting bit of metal next to the dock. The water bobbed up and down over the heavy barnacles on the wood, sloshing gently in the tide.
“Jesse! Come on! Captain wants to leave early!”
Groaning, I grabbed my bag. I’d have to finish changing on board.
Racing down the wooden dock, I hopped aboard the boat. Javi met me with a dashing smile and took my hand to help me over the large step to get on board. He was already primped to go, looking sharp in a black suit with a blood red tie. The largestud in his ear sparkled under the dock lights.
“Cutting it close,” he joked, but with no real fire. He knew how hard I worked, and everything else about me, for that matter.
“I know,” I groaned, leaning into his hands as I got my bearings under me as the boat rocked and swayed in the wake of the larger boats heading out. He gave my shoulders a quick squeeze and I groaned, relishing the mini massage.
“Asshole-in-chief decided to delay me,” I admitted.
Javi frowned, letting go of me. “He’s still stalking you? You should really tell someone.”
“Right. I’m lucky I didn’t get charged with breaking his stupid face. I can ignore him. It’s under control.”
