Page 2 of Inferno
But tonight, I took a risk. When Parker asked me to have dinner with her, I said yes, and now I’m here at a diner with a girl I literally met today, completely out of my comfort zone and yet so full of hope that she and I could become friends that it’s freaking me out.
I should have said no and gone home. Eating out, even at the cheapest of restaurants, is completely out of my budget right now. But there’s something about her that draws me in. I even told her I was gay—the first time I’ve ever told anyone. And her genuine and fierce anger when I’d confessed that her predecessors were homophobic assholes was so surprising that I accepted her invitation to have dinner without even considering that the cost of my meal would mean I’d barely be able to afford to eat ramen for the next week.
Now, after less than ten minutes in her company, I feel like she might be the first person in years who could be worth the risk of making a connection. She could be my first real friend, and I’m scared, but excited too.
Trying to focus on Parker and what she’s saying, I attempt to ignore the feeling of being watched, but the fearful knowledge that someone is plotting, or planning, or preying on me makes the hairs on the back of my neck continue to stand on end.
As discreetly as I can, I surreptitiously glance around to see who’s looking at us, but all of the occupants of the diner are consumed with their own food and company, their attention focused on themselves and not on us.
Forcing my paranoia down, I focus back on Parker.
“So, tell me a little about yourself, Henry,” Parker says as I tune back into the conversation.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m twenty-two. I graduated last year from Montana State with a degree in business administration, and I’ve been working for a staffing agency ever since,” I tell her, trying not to sound as pathetic as I feel.
Her eyes widen, and her lips split into a grin. “No wonder Penn is so desperate to give you a job. Aren’t you a little overqualified to be doing paperwork in a small-town auto shop?”
“Overqualified…maybe. Underexperienced…absolutely. Until I started at the temp agency, the only job I’d ever had was as a paperboy. I moved about a lot as a kid, so I focused on studying. I applied for every single scholarship I even remotely fit the criteria for, and when I graduated from college, I thought I was set. But no one actually ever warns you that having a degree doesn’t guarantee you a job. I spent the first month after school ended applying for every single job I could find, anywhere in the continental US. But so did every other business administration graduate, and I needed to pay my rent.” I have no idea why I just lied to her. I could have been honest and explained that I had to work three jobs while I was at school just to keep a roof over my head. But no one wants to hear a sob story over dinner…or ever.
“I get it. I took a shitty job to pay my bills too,” she says. “I guess it makes sense that you don’t want to take the job at the garage if you’re still hoping for something better.”
“The stupid thing is that the only jobs I’m even remotely qualified for are entry-level, and the job Penn and Bay have offered me pays almost twice that,” I admit.
“Are you still holding out hope for something in a big corporate company?” she questions, her brows drawn together as she sips at her straw.
“Honestly, if the garage were closer to Bozeman, I’d take the job in a hot minute. But spending over two hours a day on a bus is killing me, and as much as I wish I could, I can’t drive. I even looked at moving here, but the rent in this town is crazy high because of the tourists and how close it is to the ski resorts, and on my temp salary, I can barely make rent on the shoebox I live in now.”
“That sucks, Henry, I’m sorry.”
“It really sucks. Before, when those two jackasses worked there, I didn’t care because there’s no way I could have worked with them full-time anyway. But now they’re gone and you’re here. I wish there was a way I could figure it out, but there isn’t. Now it’s only a matter of time before the Barnetts find someone full time, and I go back to shitty two-day gigs delivering the mail and shredding old paperwork.”
“Have you told Penn or Bay any of this? Maybe they could help you work something out?” she suggests.
“It’s not their problem, it’s mine.” My tone is a little snappier than it should be, but I stopped begging people for help years ago, and I have no plans to start again now, especially when I know better than to assume anyone else would care about my life or my problems.
“Penn asked me to try to convince you to take the job,” she confesses, her expression guilty. “If you tell him your issues, I’d bet he’d do what he could to try and solve them for you.”
Realization drops on me like a bucket of cold water. I’m an idiot. I thought Parker asked me to dinner because she wanted to be my friend. I never considered that she only asked me because Penn and Bay tasked her with the job of finding out why I haven’t accepted the job they’ve offered me. “Is that why you asked me to have dinner?” I mutter, struggling to hide how deflated I feel.
“No, absolutely not. I asked you to have dinner with me because the only person I know in town is my friend Danny. He and I are in the middle of a really tricky situationship right now, and I could use a friend that isn’t him,” she says, her tone imploring me to believe her.
Doubt swirls through my mind. She says she wants a friend, but is that true, or is she just lying because I look like a kicked puppy right now?
Truthfully, I don’t know which is less likely: her wanting to be friends with me, or her playing spy for Penn and Bay. The Barnetts offered me a permanent position the first week I started at the garage, but when I said no, they didn’t push for an explanation. Since then, they’ve told me more than once that the job is mine if I want it, so it would be odd for them to ask Parker to befriend me simply to encourage me to take a position that I’ve already turned down.
A lifetime of hurt and mistrust warns me that believing her is probably a mistake. But the truth is, I want to be her friend. There’s something about her that’s open and honest, and I want that in my life.
When I lift my gaze, Parker is looking back at me with an oddly hopeful expression in her eyes. I barely know her, but it seems like she needs a friend almost as much as I do, so I tentatively ask, “A situationship?”
Her face flashes with happiness before she exhales a pained sigh. “It’s a long, pathetic story.”
I know I should keep my guard up. I know that allowing myself to become attached to anyone is stupid and a one-way ticket to me getting hurt, but I just can’t help myself. The offer of her friendship is more than I can resist. “The last bus is at ten p.m. I have time.”
TWO
ANDERS
Haveyou ever had a moment when time stands still? I hadn’t either not until I looked through the diner window and saw him. I know all about the stupid town legacy. I know that the Barnetts and both Buck and Nero genuinely believe that this myth, or curse, or whatever you want to call it, of falling in love at first sight is true. But until this exact moment I thought it was bullshit.
