Page 41 of Knot All Is Lost: Part 1

eighteen

“Mikeitsoundslike things are going well, you made it through the interview and they asked to have you come back in,” I reassured the Beta.

He’d been in and out of our shelter dealing with alcoholism and finally decided to go through rehab. Instead of going to the rehab center for his continued counseling, he requested that I help him here. Before shutting down my private practice I dealt with so many of the rich and the addictions that seemed to come when you had money to burn. Of course, none of them really wanted to change, they just found being in therapy was better to say than they weren’t giving up their habit.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve held down a steady job I’m not sure I can handle the pressure,” Mike argued. “This isn’t just cooking at a fast food joint, it’s a family run business, and I don’t want to let them down.”

I leaned back in my chair watching the man before me. He’d been part of a pack who tore him apart when he decided to leave law school and become a chef, an incredibly good one by the things he’s made here at the shelter. That didn’t matter though because if you ever wanted to become an official pack with an Omega, you needed the right credentials. If Mike couldn’t become a five star chef cooking for the Officials themselves it was menial work that put them at a disadvantage.

He didn’t give in to them though, but it cost him everything. For a while, his passion was enough until it wasn’t, and he started drinking. The voices in his head telling him he’d never be good enough, that his job and talent were worthless. Now clear headed and sober for the first time in ten years he was getting a second chance. A friend I knew needed help in the kitchen so I set up an interview for Mike. I’d given him the tools, it was his turn to use them.

“What makes you so sure you’ll let them down, you haven’t even gotten the job yet. The only way you can mess things up for yourself is not going to that second interview tomorrow morning. I can’t make you believe in yourself but we’ve done a lot of work on clearing up the lies your old pack ingrained in you that aren’t true,” I reminded him. “You loved to cook so much you walked away from that life for this dream, this is the chance to live it. Go tomorrow, hear what they have to say, then make your choice. Don’t go in thinking you don’t deserve it.”

Mike shot to his feet, hands fisted at his sides and determination in his eyes. “You’re right, if I had the courage to give it all up for doing what I love to do, then fuck them for not believing I could do it. This is the break I’ve been looking for, real work in a kitchen that feeds hard working Beta’s not some yuppy Alphas.” He paused and looked at me. “No offense.”

“None taken, I would much rather eat at Trudie’s than some of the stuffy places we go for CoF dinners,” I confided in him. “Food tastes way better and bigger portions.”

I glanced at the clock and noted our time was up so I rose to my feet and clapped Mike on the back. “I want you to call me tomorrow and let me know how things go. If I don’t answer, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you when I have a moment.”

“Thanks, Doctor Leshem, you saved my life ya know getting me into rehab. I’m not sure I could have survived on the streets living like I was,” Mike shared, shaking my hand. “You’ll be hearing from me tomorrow, that’s a promise.”

Since I didn’t have another session right away I walked with him into the main lobby and watched him leave. I wished with everything in me that he went tomorrow, I knew already they were going to offer him the job but Mike needed to learn to fight for himself.

“Excuse me, do you work here?”

I turned to find a rather stocky man with mussed shaggy graying hair, a beard that looks like it grew out of laziness, and a blush of broken blood vessels over his nose and cheeks. He wore weathered jeans, a button down work shirt with a major warehouse logo, and a warm mechanics jacket. While he was certainly a drunk—if the blush and stale beer scent pouring off him was any indicator—I didn’t think he was looking for our services.

“Yes, what can I help you with?” I asked.

It wasn’t unusual for people to come in looking for some person or another but it was our policy never to admit who was or wasn’t making use of our shelter. Too many battered women and men running from bad relationships to ever trust someone who came knocking on our door.

“Yeah, thing is my daughter’s missing,” he admitted, scratching his scalp looking around nervously. “We got into a fight and she ran away. The problem is she’s real sick and needs her medicine. She didn’t come home last night so I thought I’d check here to see if she turned up.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, how old is your daughter?” I inquired, my gut telling me this man wasn’t telling me the truth.

“Ah… oh eighteen just had a birthday two weeks ago,” he answered, telling me he wasn’t that close to his daughter if he forgot her age.

“If you give me a description I can leave a note at the front desk and ask around. We have a lot of people coming and going at all hours of the day. I’m a counselor here so I don’t deal with the intake process,” I explained.

If we did have the person here he was looking for I wanted to make sure our staff knew someone was trying to find them and to proceed with caution.

“Right, description, good idea,” he muttered, pulling a flask out of his coat pocket and taking a swig. “Let’s see um, she’s got blonde hair, skinny, green no, sorry blue eyes like her late mother. Doesn’t talk much but likes to read, always got her nose in a book neglecting her chores, damn kid.”

“I think we’re getting a little off track, do you know what she was wearing when she ran away?” I redirected as a sinking feeling washed over me. If he said what I prayed he didn’t I wasn’t sure what I would do.

“Yeah, you know what I sure do because I got her a real nice yellow dress for her birthday, had flowers and shit on it. Even gave her my old trench coat too ungrateful brat,” he rambled, taking another swig. “You know you put all this work into looking out for them and then they just throw it in your face. When her mom died I could have shipped her off to some group home, fucking kid ain’t even mine, but I looked after that little bitch all the same.”

My blood ran cold as I realized the man standing before me was none other than Cambrie’s father. The bastard who dared to hurt my Little One for years, locking her away until she could be sold to pad his sleazy life.

“If she’s eighteen and not really your child, why bother looking for her? Seems like you’re free of her now,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

Maybe if I could get this useless sack of shit to forget about Cambrie it would be one less thing for us to deal with.

“I told you already she’s sick and needs her medicine,” he retorted, narrowing his eyes at me. “You know what, why don’t you just take down my name and number. That way you can call me if she shows up, no need for someone like you, donating their time to the less fortunate to get your hands messy with my business.”

The urge to throttle this man was becoming almost overwhelming but I somehow managed to control myself. “Fine by me.”

“Daryl Minks,” he said, then rattled off his phone number. “I don’t have a cell phone so just leave a message on the answering machine. Was hoping I would find her before my shift starts tonight but looks like that’s not gonna happen.”

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