Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl (21 page)

“I need a favor.” Only four words, but it takes all of my strength to get them to leave my lips.

“Of course.” She sounds surprised. “What’s up?”

“I need a place to live.” Shame strangles me. “I know you said that Luna might be moving out, and I thought maybe I could rent her room for a bit.”

She doesn’t answer right away, making my anxiety skyrocket.

“I really wish you would’ve called a few days ago.” Her tone conveys remorse. “I just leased out the room to someone else. I even had her sign a contract.”

My chest tightens, squeezing every ounce of oxygen out of me. “That’s okay.” I force a fake, even tone. “I’m sure I can find another place to rent.”

“What me to go apartment hunting with you?” she asks. “We can start by checking the places around campus.”

“That’s okay,” I lie, knowing all those places are full. “I think I’ll just go after class tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind going with you.”

“It’s fine.” I’m fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. The word is really starting to lose all meaning.

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.” She pauses. “Although, I might know someone who would rent a room to you for dirt cheap.”

A glint of hope sparkles inside the sea of despair I’m drowning in. “Really? Who?”

She hesitates. “Beck.”

The glint of hope simmers into a thin trail of smoke. “I think I’ll check around the apartments first and see how that goes.”

She sighs. “Okay, but just so you know, I doubt there will be many to rent during the middle of the year. It would be a lot easier if you just stayed with him. You could always move out at the end of the year when places start opening up.”

I want to explain to her why I can’t live with Beck, but I fear I’ll be opening Pandora’s box.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” She seems to relax. “Let me know what you decide.”

“I will.”

We say good-bye then hang up. I lie down in my bed and curl up into a ball, wishing life was easier, simple, less complicated.

Wishing I didn’t feel like I was drowning and about to be forced to take my final breath.

Chapter Eighteen

Beck

I’m working in my dad’s office, sorting files on his computer, trying not to worry that Willow hasn’t called me back, when my phone rings.

I lean back in the chair to retrieve it from my pocket, expecting the call to be from Willow since she told me she’d call me back. But Wynter flashes across the screen, and I hesitate, unsure if I want to answer. Yeah, Wynter’s my friend and everything, but she can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, at least to me. But ignoring her seems like kind of a douchey move, so I press talk and put the phone up to my ear.

“What?” I answer, balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can continue working and not prolong my time here.

“Wow, way to greet your friend,” she replies. “God, Beck, what did I ever do to piss you off?”

I click a few keys. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“Probably not,” she replies then sighs. “Hey, have you talked to Willow today?”

“Yeah, she called me this morning.” I pause as I stumble across a file labeled “Personal Business,” a file my dad mentioned I didn’t need to mess around with. Curious, I double-click and open the contents. Then my jaw drops. Holy shit. “She’s supposed to be calling me back later today. If she doesn’t, I’m going to call her back when I get off work.”

“Well, I think you should call her soon.” The urgency in her tone causes me to straighten in the chair.

I move my hands off the keyboard and slant back in the chair. “What happened?”

“I’m not really sure. She called me out of the blue about twenty minutes ago, sounding upset and asking if she could rent my spare room. When I told her I just leased it out to someone, she got even more upset, although she was trying to hide it. I don’t know why she always tries to pretend everything’s okay when it’s not. It’s why she ends up having nervous breakdowns.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, thrumming my fingers against the desk. “She didn’t say why she was upset, though?”

“No, but I could tell it didn’t just have to do with me not being able to rent her a room. She was upset before that.”

“You should’ve told her she could crash on your couch. She hates asking for help, and if she went to you …”—I swallow hard—“something must have happened.”

“Shit. I didn’t even think about the couch thing. I did tell her she should move in with you, though.”

“I bet that went well.”

“Yeah, she didn’t seem too thrilled about it. Why is that?”

“None of your business.”

“Ha, if you really believe that, then you don’t know me at all.”

“No, I do know you,” I say exhaustedly. “But I had to try.”

“Well, stop trying and fess up.” She pauses. “Did you two do something again?”

I wait a second too long to respond.

“You did!” she cries. “Oh, my God, I told Willow this was going to happen. That sooner or later you two would screw each other’s brains out.”

“We didn’t fuck. We just … kissed.” And touch. And grinded. And fucking kissed again.

“Oh, my God, you sound so turned on right now,” she whines. “It’s so disgusting.”

“So what?” I don’t even bother trying to deny it. “It was a hot fucking kiss.”

“TMI, Beck.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

She puffs out an exasperated exhale. “You know what? I think I’ll get the details from Willow. Your details come with too many noises I’d rather not hear.”

“Why do you need details at all? It’s not really any of your business.”

“Why do you do that?” she snaps. “Why do you act like I’m such a bad person?”

“I don’t act like you’re a bad person,” I retort. “I just don’t know why you need to know everything. Plus, if you ask Willow about the kiss, she’s going to get more upset.”

“Why?” she asks. “She didn’t like it?”

“No … I think she did.” I drag my fingers through my hair, slumping back in the chair. “You know about her no-dating rule, right?”

“Yeah, she mentioned it once, but I didn’t think she was being serious.”

“Well, she was, and now that we kissed …” I’m one step away from touching myself as images of Willow and me kissing flood my thoughts. “Well, let’s just say she’s trying everything she can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“But you want it to happen again?”

“Um, yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious with the noises I was making.”

“God, you’re so gross,” she mutters. “Anyway, we’re getting off the subject. I called to tell you about Willow being upset because I knew you’d want to take care of her.”

“I’ve been trying to.” I lean forward and lower my head into my hand. “I’ve offered to let her move in with me over and over again, but she’s so stubborn. So, if you have any ideas at all, please share. I’d really like to get her out of that shithole she’s living in now. That place is sketchy as fuck.”

“Just do what you always do,” she replies in a sugary sweet tone. “Bat your baby blue eyes to get your way.”

“I so do not fucking do that.”

“You do that all the damn time, and I think you know you do.”

“Whatever.” I raise my head from my hand and sit up straight. “I’m going to hang up so I can call Willow.”

“Let me know how it goes. I worry about her.”

“So do I.” More than anything.

After I hang up, I dial Willow’s number. The call goes straight to voicemail, and seconds later, I receive a text.

Willow: Hey, I’m at work, so I can’t talk. I don’t get off until late so can I call you tomorrow?

Me: Actually, can we hang out tomorrow? I really need to talk to you.

Willow: Sure. Is everything all right? You sounded a little irked on the phone.

I shake my head. Leave it to her to worry about me when she’s buried up to her chin in stress.

Me: I’m fine. I swear. I just really want to see you.

Then, as an afterthought, I add:
I miss you.

She doesn’t reply right away, and I start to worry I spooked her. Then my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Willow: I miss you, too. I have class tomorrow. I get out at two if you want to stop by. I have work later. Maybe we can grab something to eat or something.

The restlessness in my chest relaxes since she’s being cooperative. Then again, she doesn’t know what I want to talk about.

Me: Sounds good. If you want to call me when you get off work, too, you can. In fact, I wish you would.

Willow: If it’s not too late.

I sigh, knowing she won’t yet grateful she’s at least hanging with me tomorrow.

Me: You can always call me. Whenever. Wherever. Any time you want.

I end the messages at that then try to shove my worries of Willow aside for the moment and plug my phone into the computer. Then I copy the files in my father’s personal business folder, files that I’m pretty sure prove he’s committed tax fraud. I’m not positive yet, but I know a very smart girl who might be able to help me understand them better. And while I don’t know what I’ll do if I find out the information is true, it doesn’t hurt to have some blackmail material handy in case he refuses to quit blackmailing me into working for him.

Once I get all the files downloaded, I put my phone away and reach for a piece of paper to work on solving a problem that desperately needs solving: convincing Willow to move in with me.

While I don’t think getting her to agree is going to be easy, I might have an idea to help her see why living with me is better than living with her mom. A way to help her understand. A way she understands.

I press the pen to the paper and start writing a list.

Chapter Nineteen

Willow

Work sucks big time. Van keeps reminding me that I’ll soon be up on stage, even going as far as discussing what outfit I should wear. By the time I leave, I’m exhausted and worried and scared and feel so dirty. My fear only doubles when I notice the Mustang in the parking lot. Thank God I’m not alone and have Rowan, one of the dancers, walking with me to the car.

“When you start up onstage, you’ll really want to be careful coming out here,” she tells me as she puffs on a cigarette. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a sequined pair of shorts and a bikini top, the outfit she wears on stage. “A lot of guys will try to buy time with you, but they need to go through Van to do that.”

I nearly stop dead in my tracks. “That goes on here?”

Smoke snakes from her lips as she gives me a
duh
look. “Um, yeah. What did you think the back room was for?”

“I don’t know.” I zip up my jacket. “I thought maybe it was storage.”

She laughs, ashing her cigarette. “Van’s right. You’re definitely going to rock on stage with that whole innocent act.”

I offer her a tight smile, not bothering to mention that I’m going to quit before that happens. I only wish I had a damn job lined up already. “Well, thanks for walking me to my car.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She puts her cigarette between her lips before turning and walking off.

I dare a glance at the inside of the Mustang as I slip my key into the door. Dane isn’t inside, thankfully, but my nerves don’t lessen as I open the door and climb in.

The second my butt hits the seat, I shut the door and push down the lock. Then I slide the key into the ignition and …

Glug. Glug. Glug …
The damn engine won’t turn over.

I pound my palm against the steering wheel then slip my hand into my jacket pocket to get my phone, unsure who to call since no one knows I work here. Well, except for my mom, but she wouldn’t be any help even if I could get a hold of her.

“Car trouble?”

The sound of Dane’s voice sends a surge of fear through my veins.

Swallowing hard, I fix my attention on my phone. “I’m fine.” I open my text messages and scroll through my contacts, pretending to be calm when I’m one window knock away from peeing my pants. My heart only pounds harder when Dane tries to open the door.

“Come on; let me in,” he says, jiggling the door handle. “I’ll get your car to start for you. And I won’t even charge you cash.”

“Go away.” I honk the horn, and he jolts.

He then quickly recovers, pressing his forehead to my window. “Honk all you want, sweetheart. No one can hear you out here. And if they did, they wouldn’t care.”

He’s right. Well, mostly right except for Everette. He cared.

But he’s not here, is he?

And the only other guy in your life who’s ever protective of you is about thirty miles away and doesn’t know about your dirty little work secret.

No, you’re going to have to handle this on your own.

I reach for my pepper spray, and start to roll down my window, ready to spray him in the face. But when a Mercedes rolls up beside my car, I freeze. Terror whiplashes through me as a man in his forties wearing a button down shirt and jeans hops out and strides toward the front of my car.

Good God, I’m going to die tonight, either by the hand of Dane or this man who’s clearly stalking me for reasons that probably have to do with my mom.

You’re not going to die. Just fix the problem. Call Beck because it’s either that or let Dane or rich dude end you.

My fingers tremble as I start to push Beck’s number, ready to accept the consequences of my actions and pray I don’t lose him. But I pause as the older guy storms toward Dane, slams his palms against his chest, and shoves him to the ground.

“What the fuck!” Dane shouts, scurrying to his feet.

The man puts his boot on Dane’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “If you so much as come near her again, I will fucking end you. Got it?”

My jaw nearly smacks my knees. Who the freak is this badass old guy?

“Fuck you, old man,” Dane spits, struggling to get up. “This isn’t any of your business.” His face bunches in pain as the man leans more of his weight on Dane’s chest.