Torched (6 page)

I looked across the table at Torch, his curved lips clamped shut, trying not to laugh. When I looked back at the waitress, she was still staring at me with her mouth hung open.

“Uh, um… r-r-right,” she stuttered, “I’ll be back with your drinks.” She turned red and rushed off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Torch chuckled and shook his head. “You’re fucking crazy.”

I grinned, angering every muscle in my face. “You have no idea.”

“I’m starting to get an idea. Bitch about pissed herself.”

Seeing the nosey waitress coming back with our drinks, I just shrugged. After she walked off again—as fast as the first time—I took a sip of my soda and looked around to avoid conversation. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Torch was still watching me like a hawk. But, not wanting to get lost in those enticing eyes, I did my best to avoid his general direction altogether.

The place was eclectic, for lack of a better term, lined with shelves holding all kinds of ugly country knick-knacks. Mostly animal figurines and shit. It was comfortable and clean, but definitely aimed at an older crowd. Maybe I’d appreciate the style in sixty years, when I was a lonely old spinster with a dozen cats.

Wait—scratch that—I’d never get a cat. One always seemed to turn into a whole herd for old people, and I’d read one too many stories about them getting hungry after their lonely owners keeled over and had no one to find them. That would just be my luck—surviving everything I’d survived, only to die alone and have my face chewed off by a fucking pet.

Somehow, my brain got stuck on images of treacherous felines with bloody eyeballs hanging from their mouths, until Torch thankfully interrupted that disturbing—and slightly psychotic—train of thought.

“Didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said quietly, taking a sip of coffee.

“Do what?”

“You know what. The waitress. Don’t give a shit what people think, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“You shouldn’t either.”

I smirked. “I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Torch?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He saw what I did there, smiled, and shut the fuck up.

Our food came out before I could flap my gums again and we spent the next half hour stuffing our faces. Actually, it should be clarified that
I
stuffed my face. He only ate half his plate and stared intently as I pigged out on mine. He pushed his leftovers across the table and I ate those too.

“Guess I was a little hungrier than I thought,” I admitted sheepishly. “Sorry, that was pretty unladylike.”

“I get the feeling no one’s ever accused you of being ladylike, darlin’.”

I shrugged. “You’re right… Pie?”

The look on his face was priceless. “You’re still hungry?”

“No way,” I giggled, “I think I just gained ten pounds in one sitting.”

Torch shook his head. “Knock it off, woman. You’re too damn skinny anyway.”

He got me an apple pie to go.

: : : :

I could hear Torch and Snoopy’s muffled voices outside while I stretched out on the couch.

After breakfast, Torch had taken me straight to Snoop’s apartment, conveniently located just above the front office. Whatever they were talking about sounded contentious. I hoped it had nothing to do with me, because the last thing I wanted was to cause problems for the guy who was holding my future in his hands. I’d be screwed if Snoop backed out.

Curiosity got the best of me. I tiptoed over to the partially open door.

Snoopy’s was the first voice I heard. “Look, brother, I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“He really didn’t say shit else?” Torch asked.

“Just what I told you. Some dirtbag ex beat her up and she took off.”

“But she’s from Philly?”

“Don’t know. That’s where Neil’s at and the car’s his. The only reason I’m even telling you
that
is ‘cause you’ll run the plates and find out anyway. But I guarantee, he ain’t gonna tell you shit.”

Thank fuck Neil hadn’t said anything else, because despite Snoop’s assertion that discretion was important, he’d already spilled everything he
did
know.

But Torch wasn’t done pushing. “I can be persuasive,” he grumbled.

My blood pressure went through the roof. Why couldn’t he just back the fuck off?

At least Snoop seemed to have some sense. “Come on, man, you know my side-shit depends on trust. You contact him, that’s my reputation on the line. I feel what you’re trying to do—respect, brother—but leave it alone. Sounds to me like you got enough shit to deal with anyway.”

Torch blew out a deep breath. “Yeah… Alright, I hear you. I’ll back off. She just reminds me of Em, you know?”

Who the hell was Em? He didn’t know the first thing about
me
, how could I possibly remind him of someone else?

“I get it,” Snoop replied. “Pisses me off seeing a young girl looking like that too.”

“She shouldn’t be driving either,” Torch tossed out. “I gotta get to Akron, but I’ll pay for a room. Would you keep an eye on her?”

That did it.

Was I overreacting by letting myself get worked up? Probably. But between what I’d been through the past few days and still feeling like a big pile of dog shit, my boiling point was lower than usual. I was done letting men make my decisions for me, whether they meant well or not. I stormed outside, intent on telling them both exactly what I thought about their little powwow. “Let’s get something straight—”

Torch instantly cut me off. “Thought I told your ass to rest on the couch. Why are you eavesdropping?”

All of the warm and fuzzies he’d given me earlier flew right over the railing. “Thought I made it clear no one tells me
shit
,” I snapped.

Snoop stepped back and lit up a cigarette. Smart man.

Torch threw me some serious shade. “What’s the problem?”

“What’s the
problem
?” I asked incredulously. “The problem, Torch, is that you two are sitting out here making plans for me like I’m not a few feet away. The problem is that you’re prying into my business, when I asked you to stay out of it. I appreciate you getting some food in me, but I
don’t
appreciate being treated like a fucking charity case.”

"Christ," Torch groaned. "Told you she's got a mouth on her."

Oh, my mouth was just warming up. "There you go again, talking like I'm not standing
right here
."

An exasperated Torch looked to Snoop like he was hoping the man would back him up.

Snoop wasn’t having it. "Hey, don't drag my ass into your little domestic situation. Not sure how you two even crossed paths, but I'm getting paid to get her a new identity, not play a goddamn therapist."

"Don't worry, that's still the deal," I assured him. "As far as I'm concerned, I'll be on my way and out of your hair as soon as we get our business taken care of."

"Like fucking hell you will,” Torch barked. "Act as tough as you want, but fact remains you can barely sit right. Don’t be stupid just to stick it to me."

I wanted to point out that I'd already driven almost six hundred miles. Painfully, but done it nonetheless. And it seemed like
he
was the one doing all the sticking.
I mean, really, why the hell did he ever care? He’d known me a total of three hours.

"Again, not your problem," I huffed. "You don't get to make that call."

"Yeah," he asserted, "I'm making that fucking call, babe."

Snoop tossed his cigarette before laying into both of us. "You two hard-asses figure your shit out and let me know. I'll be inside. But keep it down. I’ve got paying customers sleeping off hangovers. Fucking hell, this is why I never got hitched."

"It's figured out." I turned on my heels to follow him in, but Torch moved quicker and blocked me.

"Why are you so goddamn stubborn?" he demanded.

"Why the hell are
you
? You don't know me, don't know what I'm dealing with—"

"So fucking tell me." He truly
was
a persistent son of a bitch.

"Why? So you can butt in my life some more and make decisions about it behind my back? I didn't ask for your help and I sure as shit don't want it. Again, I'm grateful for the meal, but it has to end there. And leave Neil out of it. We’re not close, he just connected me to Snoop as a favor to a friend. Are we clear?"

Torch looked at me like I was spewing garbage. Like I
was
garbage. I felt about two inches tall. "Fuck it," he snarled, "I don't give a shit. Starting to see why you might be looking the way you are right now."

What. The. Fuck? Had he
just implied that I deserved looking like a batterer's wet dream? Granted, I’d been giving him attitude since the moment we met, and I knew I was overreacting before I even came out and opened my mouth. But still, that was a low blow.

I couldn’t blame him for being frustrated, but I also hadn't forgotten his earlier comment, threatening the man who hurt me with death. In his macho world, he may have considered vengeance for a damsel in distress to be par for the course. But in this damsel's world, the pleasure of hearing that Mitch had been shanked in prison—or some such morbid end—would be short-lived. It would most certainly end with a price on my head.

He didn't know any of that and I didn't expect him to. What I did expect was that he’d mind his own business when asked.

I refused to let the words cut me and looked him square in the eye, trying my best not to look like a wounded animal. "If you think that I somehow deserved
this…
all I can do is assure you that you're very wrong. I'm acting the way I am
because
of this. And you know what? Ironically, I feel sorry for
you
. Because if you actually believe the shit you just said, you're more broken than I am. So good, I’m glad you finally don’t give a shit. I never asked you to. In fact, I remember asking you to leave me alone before you bulldozed your way into getting me out of my car.”

Torch glared, but didn’t respond.

Whatever. I huffed and walked around him, back into the apartment. He didn’t try to stop me.

“You figure your shit out?” Snoop asked as soon as he saw me.

Yeah, I’d figured out that I was a total wretch. “I’d just like to get this done and—”

Sudden movement cut me short. It was Torch, stomping past me. The door slammed behind him and ricocheted through the apartment. Snoop scowled and scratched his head.

I empathized with his confusion. I was confused too.

I couldn’t figure out why the hell it felt like that tornado of a man had taken a part of me with him. The roar of motorcycle pipes drove the feeling home, even more so as they faded into the distance.

He was gone.

“Torch is good people. Known him a long time,” Snoopy spoke up wistfully.

I looked over at him, feeling like total crap. It was too late to do anything about it though. “I’m sure he is. Sorry about the drama. Just a little messed up in the head right now, you know?”

He came closer, eyeing my bruises like Torch had done, and took my hand.

“No worries, doll. He’ll get over it. Come on, it’ll take a couple hours to get this done. After that, I ain’t gonna tell you what to do, but I think my man’s got a point. You shouldn’t be driving from the looks of it.”

He was right. They’d both been right.
“Do you have a room open for a few days?” I asked.

He waved me off. “Never mind that, you’ll stay here at my place, I have a spare bedroom. You can stay as long as you need to,” he replied.

What could go wrong with that? “That’s okay, I’ll pay for one.”

“Nonsense, girl. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna try anything. Whatever you’re running from won’t touch you here.”

I was too tired to argue. “Okay, thank you.”

“You got plans after this?” he pressed.

“Not really. Neil gave me a little cash. Just gonna head west and figure it out as I go.”

“Starting over ain’t cheap. You intend to get your own place, you’ll need a deposit and shit.”

I sighed. “I hadn’t really gotten that far with it.”

“Tell you what. I’m short-handed and could use a spitfire like you in the bar. If you can stand up to Torch, you can handle my other customers.”

“You want me to bartend?”

“Why not? Can’t pay much, you’d mostly be working for tips, but stay for a few weeks and save up. That way you’ll have enough for a place and pocket change ‘til you find a decent job wherever you end up.”

I had to admit, it made plenty of sense. Without a high school diploma, the best I could hope for would be a restaurant or bar gig. In the meantime, the grand Neil had lent me would only pay for gas and maybe a month of rent.