Destined Love

Destined Love - Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three:

"You need to manage your anger, boy." Billy casts me a heated glare.

It's the first thing he says as he walks back into the bar an hour later, noticing the mess I've made. With the glass fragments still poking out of the carpet, I'm on my hands and knees, pulling each piece out with my fingers. The fury still gushing through my blood stream threatens to erupt a second time, but I quench the urge with a purposeful sharp stab to my finger of the pointed shards.

"I don't need to manage my anger," I respond impassively, "I just need everyone else to manage not to piss me off."

He shakes his head. "I don't care if a customer happens to speak or look at yo' the wrong way, you need to control ya anger and remain professional."

With a huff, I pluck one final piece of glass and drop it into a container along with the rest. Each cut that traces the tips of my fingers disappear within minutes, the sting from each one fading soon after.

"No one was around when I threw the glass, old man."

"Anyone could have walked through those doors," he argues. "Now, get off the floor. I need to close the bar for a few hours. Go home."

Along with the container, I throw a bloody tea towel into the bin.

"What about my pay check?"

Billy glances at his watch with irritation. "You'll get what you're given."

I snort. "A half days pay? I don't think so, hombre."

"It's still money." He grunts. "I've got business to do, lock the door on ya way out."

He disappears into his office, closing the door shut behind him. The blinds above the window slide closed moments later, and then the sign hanging against the glass at the front of the bar switches from a flashing red to a dead grey. I tug off my apron and stroll through the storage room, throwing it to the floor. Despite only working for half a day, I slip out the back door relieved—another moment in that bar, and I might've gone insane.

Starting up the engine, my brief encounter with Wes plays through my mind. I remember the day, down by the river, that Ariella told me she was against the idea of staying at Wes'—something about it complicating their friendship. If what Wes told me earlier is true, what has happened between them for Ariella to change her mind? Did she lie to me that day, or has something more developed between them?

My fingers curl around my steering wheel, whitening my knuckles.

As I drive, a visual of Wes and Ariella forms in my mind. I bite the inside of my cheek in an attempt to clear them from my thoughts. The metallic tang of blood hits the tip of my tongue, and I quickly swallow it as I pull into Cole's driveway. For a reason I'm not yet willing to admit to myself, I'd rather she have lied to me. Visualising her and Wes together, in more ways than one, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

My hands slick with sweat, I unwrap my fingers from the wheel and tug out my keys from the ignition. The images are incessant, but as I push open the front door, I'm faced with another image that distracts me from thoughts of Ariella. Cole's head pokes out from behind the sofa, his hair greased with sweat. His cheeks glow an unattractive red as he glances at me with wide eyes.

"What the fuck are you doin'?"

I hear his gulp from across the room. "Why are you home early?"

Closing the door, I stay where I stand, not yet game enough to see what's going on behind that couch.

"Billy gave me the rest of the day off. Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?"