Page 13 of Hiding for the Holidays
There’s another thump, and I glance up, wondering if the chair will hold. I carefully hold on the knife with my good hand and wait.
“Bro, what are you doing?” A muffled voice asks right outside my door.
“I’m trying to get into my room, what does it look like I’m doing?”
The first guy starts laughing before he tells him, “Ky, that’s not your room, bro. You live on the second floor.”
There’s a pause, then they both laugh as the voices grow distant.
I sigh, leaning my head back against the wall. Nobody was trying to get it here after all. Well, actually, Ky was. But only because he thought it was his own room.
After my heart stops racing, I grab my backpack and pull it closer, deciding to take another look at all my worldly possessions.
There’s two-thirds of a loaf of bread and a few slices of ham left, along with my wallet and fake ID. My real ID and bank card are hidden in a small zippered section of the bag with two hundred and eighteen dollars in cash, thanks to getting paid yesterday.
I pull out the small tube of concealer and smile, remembering how I got it. It was right after Scott had found me andgiven me all those fresh bruises. I was on the bus just trying to get as far from him as possible. There was a woman, a little younger than me, who was wearing sunglasses, even though it was night. I could see a scar extending above and under one eye and wondered how she got it. At the next stop she got up and set a tube of concealer on the empty chair beside me then just walked off the bus.
She must have noticed my bruising, and like most people, didn’t know how to help. Her thoughtfulness at giving me something to cover the bruises with was more help than she would ever know. It worked to hide my current black eye, but it didn’t work so well on my neck, due to it always rubbing off on my hoodie and jacket collar. So I only use it on the higher ones and leave the ones around my neckline alone.
There’s nothing else in my bag, and my bedding is the only usable thing in my room to help with my hand. I groan, realizing I’ll have to get something to bandage it with in the morning before work. I can’t show up with an open wound, and I can’t tie my t-shirt around it, they would notice that for sure. They already notice too much.
I was lucky they were paying me under the table. But from what I saw of the books, they weren’t making much money, so it made sense they wanted to keep it off the record. Overall, they seemed easygoing and pretty desperate for help considering they hired me on the spot with no references. The more I thought about transforming Iron Oaks into a successful business, the more excited I was to get to work.
Of course, I was a little excited to see Leo, Grant and Asher again. They were a little intriguing. When men actually took the time to look at me over these past few weeks, it gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. But it was a little different with them, and I’m not sure why.
And if this job works out, maybe I can save up enoughmoney to start over somewhere new. When Scott finally gives up looking for me, I can go anywhere I want. Perhaps LA would be a good place to live? Although I might not miss the snow, I’d definitely miss Christmas.
Checking my hand, I see it’s not bleeding anymore, but it still stings. I wonder what time the dollar store opens?
“Clara?”
My head jerks up, and I glance around. Where am I? It only takes a couple of seconds to realize I’m sitting on a bench across the street from the dollar store. I had hoped it would open at seven, but when I arrived I saw it didn’t open until eight thirty, so I decided to sit and wait. I must have dozed off.
“Clara?” I turn my head and find Asher frowning down at me. “What are you doing here? You didn’t sleep here, did you?”
“What? Oh! No, no, I was just waiting for the store to open,” I say, pointing to the dollar store across the street. “I arrived a bit early. I guess I dozed off.”
“It’s freezing out here. What did you need so badly that you sat out here in the cold and waited?”
“Uhh…” I trail off, not wanting to tell him the truth and unable to think of a lie fast enough. I slowly move my bandaged hand from my lap and try to hide it under my jacket, but he catches the movement.
“Wait—” He reaches out and gently grabs my wrist, pulling my hand out to inspect the large, dirty t-shirt still wrapped around my palm. I didn’t have a choice; it was still dripping the occasional drop of blood, and I had nothing else I could use.
He turns my hand over and sees the bloodstained fabric against my palm.
“What happened?” he asks in alarm, moving to sit besideme. He doesn’t let go of my wrist, but his dark brown eyes move to mine in question. “Did someone do this to you?”
I shake my head. “No. That one is all me.” I cringe, wishing I hadn't said it like that, like it’s not my only injury.
“Let’s get you to Iron Oaks. I can clean you up there.”
“Really?” I ask in surprise. Normally I’d want to do it myself, but if I could save a dollar and get real antiseptic cream on it, plus a ride to work… then I wasn’t going to turn the offer down. I wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t want my hand to get infected.
He helps me stand, then grabs my bag and steps over to the curb. My eyes widen when I see him step up to the motorcycle parked there. He’d ridden right up to me and I hadn’t even heard him?
A chill runs down my spine at the thought of what could have happened to me while I was asleep out here. Hopefully, I won't have any more early morning shopping trips in my future.
He grabs the helmet from the seat and turns, pulling it down over my head slowly before fastening the strap under my chin.
