Page 142 of Love Bleeds Red
“I promise.”
I’m halfway to work before I realize I’m lying.
My initial nerves subside as soon as I walk through the back employee entrance of the familiar red and yellow building. It’s a smooth enough shift. The dinner rush keeps me busy, muscle memory taking over as I take orders, assemble burgers, and run the register. Derek seems relieved to have experienced help, and my coworkers are mostly teenagers I don’t recognize who treat me with polite indifference that I find strangely reassuring.
By ten, it’s just Derek and me closing up. The place is a wreck and of course Derek went outside to smoke before he’ll spend an hour closing out the register… leaving me to everything else.
This is what you wanted, Bailey.
I stack chairs on tables, mop the dining room floor, and wipe down every surface until it gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights. I clean the fryer, scrub the grill, and sanitize the prep area. The repetitive tasks are oddly soothing. It’s simple, mindless work that doesn’t require me to think about court dates or relationships or anything more complicated than making sure the counters are spotless.
Derek finally comes back inside, reeking of weed. He nods at me, his version of “good job” before disappearing into the office to count money and do paperwork. Which leaves me with the last task… taking out the trash.
I gather the heavy bags from the kitchen and dining area. Three massive grease-stained bags reeking of old fries and burger juice. It’s a simple job, nasty but easy, and I’ve done it hundreds of times before, but as I push through the back door and head across the parking lot and into the alley, my chest tightens up and my limbs get that weak feeling.
“Fuck, not now,” I groan.
You’re fine. Yes it’s dark. Yes, you’re alone. But you’ve got this.
I quicken my steps, heaving the bags higher so they don’t drag on the ground and break. The back lot is mostly empty except for a couple cars, but I know there’s still a few customers loitering in the front. Stupid teenagers mostly, with nowhere to go all summer.
When I reach the alley, I hold my breath from the stench of rotten food. The dumpster sits about twenty feet away, surrounded by shadows. There’s only one flickering light thatbarely illuminates the empty alley. I hate this. But fuck… I’m going to get through this night. I have to, for myself.
One step at a time, I make it to the dumpster, gagging as I toss the bags in. I make the mistake of releasing my breath and sprint out of the alley to get back to fresh, un-rancid air.
I’m still sprinting when I hear voices.
“Yo, hold up.”
I freeze, even though every instinct is telling me to run. Three guys come around the corner from the front lot, maybe around my age, probably drunk by the way they’re moving. They’re close enough to the employee entrance to keep me from getting back inside. I’m essentially trapped unless I want to get any closer to them.
“Where you running?” the tallest one says, grinning. He’s wearing a backwards cap and a T-shirt with some surfing company logo on it.
Fuck. I don’t want to talk to them, but maybe it’ll help this from becoming a whole situation.
“Just finished work. Heading home.”
“This late? That sucks,” another one says. He’s shorter, stockier, with small eyes and acne. “You working alone?”
I clutch my hands into a tight fist, eyeing the distance between me and the back door. “No, my manager’s inside.”
“Cool, cool.” Baseball Cap nods like we’re having a normal conversation. “Hey, you want to hang out? We got some drinks in the car.”
My heart pounds so loud I’m sure they can hear it. I back away from them, but there’s nowhere to go. My keys are inside with my purse, all I have is my phone in my pocket. “Thanks, but I’m good. Really tired.”
The third guy looks up from his phone like he’s just catching on to what his friends are doing and steps sideways, essentiallycutting off my path to the employee entrance completely. “We’re not weird or anything. ”
“Yeah, we’re just hanging out. Our boy here just broke up with his bitch of a girlfriend. It’s celebration time.” Baseball Cap says, like that’s supposed to reassure me. “We’re just looking to have some fun. I saw you inside earlier. You seem cool.”
I keep backing away. “I really need to get going. My boyfriend’s expecting me.”
“Your boyfriend?” Small Eyes grins and shoots me this look that makes my stomach churn worse than the reeking garbage. “He’s not here though, is he?”
I can tell they think making me uncomfortable this way—scared, even—is entertaining. They’re fucking giddy with it. Baseball Cap takes another step closer and the smell of beer hits me.
“You seem stressed,” he says. “We could help you relax. It’s summer, you’re young, we’re young. Live a little.”
I glance behind me and notice Derek’s beat up Honda. He never locks it, I remember that from last time I worked here.
