Cardinal
Authors: Sara Mack
Cardinal
By
S
ARA
M
ACK
Cardinal
Copyright © 2015
Sara Mack
All Rights
Reserved
First Kindle
Edition: 2015
Cover art by
Cover
to Cover Designs
Photograph by
Mandy Hollis of
MH
Photography
Edited
by Red Ribbon Editing Services
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limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
the above author of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The
author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products listed in this work of fiction, which have been used without
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associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Dedicated
to
All readers who ask for more
Do you
know what I hate?
Having
the rug pulled out from under me.
I also hate
the sinking feeling my stomach gets when something bad happens. I hate when
panic sets in, and the back of my neck breaks out in a cold sweat. I hate the feeling
I might throw up at any minute, and I hate that I always fall for lies.
Fuck
you, Ross. I mean, Derek.
Reaching
for one of the earrings he gave me, I rip it out of my ear. “Thanks a lot asshole!”
I throw it at him and it bounces off his chest. I grab the other earring and do
the same. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I get in his face. “Why
the fake name? Were you worried you’d get caught? Karma sure is a funny
bitch.”
“I don’t
have time for you right now,” my married boyfriend snaps.
“Perfect!”
I yell. “Because I don’t have any more time for you.” I start to walk away,
then stop. “I suggest you leave before the Dayton brothers kick your ass.” My
ex, Kyle, and his brother, Kevin, look ready for a fight.
I almost make
it to the other side of the room before I hear a fist connect with a jaw. Staring
straight ahead, I keep walking and try to calm my racing pulse. When I make it
to the dance floor, I pick up my guitar; before all hell broke loose, Kyle and
I had just finished playing a song for Kevin’s wedding. I send a silent message
to my friends:
Sorry about the additional entertainment, guys.
After I
put my acoustic back in its case, I decide leaving now would be my best option.
I feel tears coming on, and I don’t get those often. Keeping my head down, I
make a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, Kevin is on his way back from
disposing of Derek, and he intercepts me. He places a hand on each of my
shoulders to stop me from walking.
“Jen.” He
tries to catch my eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I
say. “I don’t want your night ruined any more than it has been.”
“C’mon.” He
squeezes my shoulders. “My night isn’t ruined. Yours shouldn’t be either; that
guy’s a prick. You deserve better.”
I force a
smile. I’ve been friends with Kevin for the last five years, after I
accidentally rear-ended his car when mine slid on ice. “Don’t try to sugarcoat
it. My romantic life is in the toilet.” He should know. He set me up with his
brother, Kyle, and that relationship lasted three years before it tanked.
Kevin
grimaces. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I know,
but I need to.”
Just
then, Kyle and Addison walk up to us. My eyes bounce from Kyle’s swollen cheek
to Addison’s pale complexion. She must be traumatized because Kyle got hit and
her husband’s a bigger dick than she thought. “I don’t know what to say,” I
tell her. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s
okay.” She looks sympathetic. “He gave you his middle name. Even if he was
honest, what were the odds of your Derek being the same as mine?”
I feel
the need to tell her everything I know. Maybe it’s to assuage my own guilt; I’m
not sure. “We met on New Year’s Eve, but he didn’t call for months,” I say. “We’ve
been seeing each other since the end of February.”
“You don’t
have to explain.” Addison steps forward. “My marriage was hurting well before
New Year’s Eve.”
“Still,”
I sigh. “I feel awful. I just … I just want to go home.”
After I
say goodbye, I make it outside into the cool night air. You would think the
month of May would be warmer, but it’s still spring in Michigan. Shivering, I
quickly find my car, put my guitar in the trunk, and then slam the door shut. It’s
always good to take out your aggressions on inanimate objects. They can’t hit
back.
During
the drive home I try to bury my thoughts, but my emotions won’t have it. Tears
escape the corners of my eyes and they make the white traffic lines blurry. How
is it I have the most shittastic luck when it comes to men? Is there a sign on
my forehead I can’t see? It must say “Assholes Apply Here. Employment
guaranteed.” Thankfully P!nk comes on the radio and distracts me. I turn up the
volume and shout along to “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”. It’s cathartic.
When I reach
my exit, I pull off the expressway and concentrate on driving through the
sleepy little town I’ve lived in my entire life. When I park in front of my apartment
building, I turn off the ignition and wipe beneath my eyes. No one should be
around to see my mascara-streaked face, but I still don’t want to look like
Alice Cooper. Even if one of my neighbors did question me, I doubt they would actually
care. They’d just think I’m the girl from D3 who always stays out too late. Judging
by some of the looks I get, my neighbors think I party. My reality is much more
tame. I tend bar for a living and work late hours. Sue me, nosey people.
Once I
make my way inside, I kick off my heels, toss my purse on the table, and head
straight for the bathroom. Turning the water on full blast, I take off the blue
party dress I bought especially for the wedding tonight. I hang it on the back
of the door and run my fingers over the fabric. Will I ever wear it again? If
I do, it will only remind me of Douchebag Derek and the fact that I slept with
a married man.
After a
moment, I decide yes. Even though my heart stings, I, Jen Elliott, will wear
this dress again. Maybe not anytime soon.
But I
will.
Stepping
into the shower, the hot water pulls the curls from my hair and a few angry
tears from my eyes. It turns my skin pink, and I stand under it long enough to
wrinkle my fingers and toes. When the water runs cold, I get out and wrap
myself in a towel. What I wouldn’t give to start over.
I’m not
talking about the shower. I’m talking about going back in time and correcting a
few things. I run my hand over the steam-covered mirror and stare at my foggy
reflection. Apparently, I’m destined to be single bartender for the rest of my
life. There are worse fates.
Right?
My
destiny doesn’t feel too glamorous, not that it ever did. Sighing, I dry my
hair and then find my bed. I slide beneath the sheets and hug a pillow to my
chest. I have to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.
I have to
forget Derek tomorrow.
I have to
pick myself up and start over again … tomorrow.
When I
pull into work the next day, my boss is outside unlocking the door. Frowning, I
park in my usual spot and cut the engine. I’ve worked at Jay’s Sports Bar for
four years, and this is the first time my boss has been late. Since she owns
the restaurant, Norma always arrives an hour earlier than the rest of us to get
her paperwork done.
“Hey,” I call
to her when I step out of my car. “Everything okay?”
Startled,
Norma drops her keys and a few papers. She turns around and holds one hand to
her chest. “Oh, Jen. You scared me.”
Confused,
I walk toward her. “Didn’t you hear me pull in?”
All five
feet of my sixty-year-old boss looks worn and frazzled as she bends down to
pick up what she dropped. “I guess my mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”
I smile
and crouch down to help her. “Well, it is Sunday. We should be home relaxing.” I
pull a few papers into a pile and can’t help but notice they’re all the same. My
eyes catch a few words printed on each piece and my stomach starts to knot. Swallowing,
I ask, “What’s going on?”
Norma
looks defeated as takes the papers from my hands. “Jay’s is closing,” she says,
her voice barely audible. “Leon is sick. Real sick.”
I blink a
few times. Leon Jay, Norma’s husband, has been battling emphysema for as long
as I can remember. “I thought he was feeling better,” I say.
“He was. Now
…” Her voice fades. “He’s not.”
My heart
goes out to her. I know how much she loves her husband and his condition has
been tough on both of them, especially since she’s still working.
“We’re
running out of money,” she says as we both stand. “We’ve had some unexpected
medical bills; things our insurance won’t cover.” Norma hands one of the
letters back to me so I can read it. “A few months ago, Applebee’s expressed
interest in opening a restaurant in the area. They offered to buy us out.” She
hesitates. “We agreed.”
My eyes
scan the letter, but I can’t concentrate. “When is this happening?”
“It was
supposed to happen at the end of the year.”
“But?”
“We
officially close tomorrow.”
Questions
bounce around my brain. “Why so soon?”
“More
time is needed for renovations,” she explains. “This is an old building, and it
needs some repairs.”
The words
“first opportunity to apply” jump off the paper at me, and my shoulders sag. “None
of us have jobs, do we?”
Norma closes
her eyes. Somehow, when she opens them again, she looks years older. “They said
our staff will have the first chance to apply, but you’re right. Employment isn’t
guaranteed.”
Now my
stomach truly sinks. I need to start job hunting. I glance down at my feet, at
the invisible rug that’s being pulled from under me for the second time in a
matter of hours. Tension fills my body and Norma must notice, because she tries
to ease it.
“You know
you’re like family to me,” she says with a sad voice. “It was a hard decision
to sell this place, let alone share the news before I was ready. You need to
know I’m going to pay you for the next six months, through the date we were
supposed to close. It’s the least I can do.”
I give my
boss a resigned smile. While her gesture is nice, the $7.40 I make an hour is
nothing without tips.
“I can’t
tell you how sorry I am.” Norma looks pained. “I’ve been dreading this day.”
Even
though I’m the furthest thing from happy, I can’t be mad at Norma. I understand
why she made the decision she did; family comes first. I set my hand on her arm
to try and comfort her. “It’s okay. Your husband is the most important thing.”
She pats my
hand.
A car
door slams behind me and I realize my coworkers are starting to arrive. I look
at the letter, then back to my boss. “Am I free to go?” I don’t think I want to
relive this conversation.
“Sure,”
she says and squeezes my fingers. “If you need a letter of recommendation, please
let me know.”
I nod
and, defeated, turn and head back to my car. First Derek, now my job. What
else can go wrong?
~~~~
Later
that evening, after I spent the day driving around to find job applications, I
stop at Starbucks for comfort food. I figure I deserve it after the last two
days. Armed with a caramel Frappuccino and a double chocolate chunk brownie, I
pull up to my apartment building only to discover I can’t enter the parking lot.
Two police cars and three fire trucks block the entrance.
You have got
to be kidding me.
The
flashing lights are blinding as I drive by. I park down the road and get out of
the car to walk home. As I get closer, I can smell smoke. There was a fire? I
hope no one got hurt. Thoughts begin to swirl in my mind: I straightened my
hair this morning. Did I turn off the flat iron? What if I caused this? I was a
little distracted because I woke up to a Derek/Ross text:
I
want to see you.
Fat
chance, asshole.
I reach a
group of people huddled on the sidewalk wearing sweats and pajamas. “What
happened?” I ask.
“Fire.” An
older woman I’ve seen in the laundry room turns around. “It started a few hours
ago over on the end.” She points. “Building D.”
Figures. It’s
my building. At least I’m not responsible; my unit is in the middle.
“Did they
put it out?”
“Yes, but
rumor has it the indoor sprinkler system caused more damage than the actual
fire.” She looks around the group. “Before we evacuated, our units were soaked.”
My mouth
falls open. “So everything is wet?”
“Likely
so.”
Oh no. The
last thing I can afford right now is to replace my things.
Overwhelmed,
I step away from the group and sit down on the curb. I hold my head in my hands
and stare at the pavement. My life has gone from normal to insane so fast I may
have set a Guinness Record. I must have royally pissed off the universe,
although I don’t know how. My breathing becomes erratic as I realize everything
I love is converging on ruin.
“Miss?”
I look up
to find a fireman standing beside me.
“Do you
live here?”
I nod
while I consider asking him to save me from my life. He’s a hero. That’s what
they do.
He
crouches down to my level. “Chief says all residents are clear to go inside and
get what they need for the night. Your landlord has opened the clubhouse as a
temporary shelter.”
I squint.
“How long will it be until we can stay in our apartments?”
“Things
are pretty messed up.” He frowns. “I guess it depends on how fast the building gets
cleaned and inspected.”
That’s
not good news. Slowly, I stand. The firefighter helps by steadying my elbow. “Thanks,”
I say.
“Do you
need any other help?”
I let out
a sarcastic snort. “You have no idea.”
He
chuckles, then steps away. “My name is Peyton, if you need anything.”
“Thank
you, Peyton.”
He winks
at me and I notice his eyes. They’re a stunning shade of blue. As he turns and
walks over to another group of people, my frazzled mind does the most inappropriate
thing possible: it wonders what he looks like under all that gear.
Really,
Jen?!
I chastise myself.
This is not the time or the place to think about guys. Given my most recent
romance, I should swear them off all together. With my luck, he probably has a
wife, a girlfriend,
and
kids.
Just
then, my phone rings in my bag. I reach for it and swipe the screen to answer
as I walk. “Hey, Peter.”
“Hey,
Little J!”
I roll my
eyes at my oldest brother’s nickname for me. Actually, all my brothers call me
that. After Peter, there’s Josh and then Adam. I’m the youngest and the only
girl.
“Pete. I’m
not a kid. Stop calling me that.”
“You will
always be Little J,” he says. “Anyway, listen, I need a favor.”
“Not
now,” I snap.
“What’s
wrong?”
One of
the fire trucks starts to pull away from the scene, and it’s loud. I cover my
other ear with my free hand and talk over the noise.
“I lost
my job, my boyfriend is married, and my apartment almost burned down!”
“What?!”
he exclaims. “Start from the beginning.”
I catch
him up to speed as I pace in front of my building. Other tenants push past me
to get their things, but I’m nervous to go inside and see the damage.
“Are you
serious?” Pete asks. “Where will you stay?”
“With mom
and dad.” It’s not my first choice, but it beats bunking at the clubhouse.
“You
should stay with me.”
I scoff. “I
can’t just drive to Chicago.”
“Why
not? You have no job, no house, and no man.”
I’m
silent.
“Every
Christmas you say you’ll visit and you never do.”
That’s
true. It’s been years since I’ve been to Chicago. My brother comes home for the
holidays and we see each other then. Even though I always promise to visit him,
I don’t. A trip to the city would seem like a vacation. In my line of work, I
don’t get paid days off.
“There’s
nowhere for me to sleep,” I say.
“I have a
spare room.”
“What
about Juliana?”
Juliana
is Pete’s permanent girlfriend. At thirty-two years old I don’t think he’ll
ever get married – or grow up. My brother works as a bouncer and religiously plays
Call of Duty. Jules doesn’t seem to mind, however. She’s been with him for
years.
“You know
she loves you,” Pete says. “Besides, I’m at her place more than mine. Come out
here, Little J. Escape for a while.”
That does
sound enticing. I sigh. “I can’t right now.”
“You can.”
“I don’t
think so. I need to find a job. Are you going to pay my bills?”
“If you
need help, yes.”
“I won’t
take your money, Pete.”
“Would
you stop being so complicated?” He sounds like our dad. “Get your ass in the
car and drive west. I’m trying to make you feel better and you’re not making it
easy.”
A few of
my neighbors walk out the door with their arms full of clothes and toiletries. The
sight depresses me. I don’t want to be a nomad. I also don’t want to be a
jobless twenty-six year old staying with her parents. Maybe I do need a change
of scenery.
“Fine,” I
say quietly.
“Fine?
You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome.”
I can sense his smile through the phone. “When are you leaving?”
I look up
at my building. “After I pack, I suppose. It shouldn’t take long if everything
is ruined.”
“So, I’ll
see you in five or six hours?”
I walk up
the steps and open the door. “I’ll call you along the way.”