“You can tell me about it if you want.” If he swore to stand by me, then the least I could do was repay the favor.
“My mom died of a drug overdose about ten years ago. My dad left long before that. The state took my sister and me. Separated us when we entered foster care. I bounced around for about six years before I got sick ofthe bullshit and ran away.
“I decided living on the streets would be better than having to deal with my so-called dad crawling into bed with me every other night. If I stayed, I swear I would have killed him.” He glanced at me and squinted. “Sorry.”
I shrugged. The abuse he had been forced into was far worse than what had happened to me. He didn't give any real details, but from the tears in his eyes,
I understood that if I had been in the same situation and my foster daddy forced me to do things with him, I would have killed him too. Felix was a better man than me. He resisted the urge, ran away from it. I hadn’t.
Chapter 18
Kennedy, age twenty—May 2008
DAYS WITHspecials were, in fact, busy at Elaine’s. With every table full, there was little time to rest. However, I made it a point to make connections with everyone who placed an order. Impressed with my people skills,
Elaine praised my ability to upsell and bring in just a little more cash. When she talked to Dane, I overheard her say how I was a good hire; the best waitress they’d had in years.
My tips confirmed her words. I had been hired at minimum wage—six twenty-five an hour—however, my first check added up to seven dollars an hour. Because I enjoyed working with Elaine, I had to be sure it wasn’t a mistake. If it was a test, I wanted to pass. “Um, are you sure your math is right?”
“Yes, dear.” She raised one eyebrow.
“I didn’t mean anything by that, I’m sorry. But,” Iadded the amount in my head again. “We agreed on six twenty-five.”
“And you’re worth so much more,puttus.” Her warm hand touched my cheek.
Still getting used to the unique terms, I grinned.
“It means sweetheart, it’s affection. I wish I could pay you more.”
Floored at how she had given me a raise within my first week, I hugged her and waved to Dane on my way out the door. I skipped back to the apartment; not really, but if I were still a kid, I would have.
Proud didn’t come close to how elated I was to please my employer. If I had been honest with myself, it made me happy to not have to sell my body to walk away with money in my pocket.
PINK FABRIChugged my curves on top and floated loose on the bottom as I sashayed from the kitchen to the dining room. My new dress made me feel pretty, not gorgeous or sexy, but pretty.
For me, it was a special day; a time to celebrate two-fold. Dinner would be ready for Cody when he arrived home from work, and I was ready to reveal my special news.
Cranky when he walked through the door, he didn’t even notice me. Or dinner. He went right past me—morelike around me—I stood in his path to be sure he saw how pretty I had made myself for him. Pork and barbeque sauce scented the room so I didn’t understand how he could have ignored the entire situation. Heat rose up my chest and I knew to hide my emotions, so I popped one of the green and white pills I had hidden.
Thirty minutes later, with cold food layered on our plates, Cody sauntered out of the bedroom. Two glasses of whiskey sat in the middle of the table: mine had been emptied more than twice. I poured more and looked at him straight in the eye as I took a shot. I was pissed and I knew the action would provoke him, but the pill removed all ability to give a shit. Hungry, I asked him to sit.
“Why? So, you can serve cold food?” He huffed and pulled his chair from under the table. After the first bite, he pretended to gag. “It probably tasted like ass before it got cold, too.”
Finally able to consume the meal, I pushed aside the flavor for substance. I hadn’t eaten since lunch at the restaurant, and I knew that if I had eaten dinner without him, I would be punished.
“Where’d you get the dress?” His words pushed past the food in his mouth.
Not “it looks nice on you,” or “you look pretty.” Annoyed, I told him the name of the store. It didn’t mean anything to him, he had no idea about the shopping areasaround us. He certainly didn’t understand that it was a secondhand clothing store designed exclusively for women.
“Drop the attitude, Kennedy. You don’t have enough money to buy stupid shit like that.” He shot his whiskey.
No way was I going to tell him about my raise; he’d want to steal all my hard-earned money. I kept my mouth shut.
“How did you get to the store?” His ridiculous line of questioning got old.
Without taking my eyes off his, I pursed my lips and poured him another drink, then quickly regretted it.
“I asked you a question.” The drink went down in one gulp, and he poured another. “Answer me.” His voice was barely a whisper.
