Outside The Ropes (Published Series)

4: Not Even Close

"I'LL WEAR A BAND AID OVER THE cuts. Johnny told me on the phone I could work today!" It had been three weeks since I worked and I was going crazy sitting around Nan's, not to mention my need for a paycheck. My face had healed surprisingly fast for the most part, but I still had visible bruising and scabbed over cuts on my lip and eyebrow.

Louisa stretched out her sigh, eyeing the almost empty restaurant, avoiding eye contact with me. "Perhaps you can do dishes tonight, but we can't have you on the floor." She clicked her tongue and her leathery hand floated to rest on my shoulder. I tensed, uncomfortable with the sudden contact. "Are you sure you're up to working?"

I stepped out of her grasp and met her soft gaze. "I'm fine. Thanks, I'll go roll silverware."

The walk here panicked me more than I had anticipated, and I was still a bit edgy. I concentrated on keeping my face neutral as I made my way to the kitchen; my ribs ached constantly, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

The kitchen was bright and noisy, a stark change from the dim interior of the restaurant.

"Hola, Regan," one of the chefs yelled from behind the grill.

Unable to recall a name, I nodded in greeting and gave a half smile. I pulled a stool up to the stainless steel table and rolled silverware sets in napkins, letting the mindless, repetitive task relax me.

Trichelle leaned her willowy arms on the table in front of me. "Hey, I'm glad you're back. How are you feeling?"

I shrugged and gave my typical response. "I'm fine." I continued rolling the silverware, hoping to end the conversation.

"Well, you've been popular around here. The police showed up the other day wondering how to get a hold of you. Have you spoken with them?"

I nodded. James drove me to the police station last week. They had a few follow up questions for me and told me they'd already made two more arrests.

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she spoke, "The cops told us it was that stupid Knockout Game. Makes me sick that these teenagers are so fucking ignorant. I heard the game's killed people in other places. Stupid YouTube."

"The Knockout Game" was a dangerous game that went viral on the Internet. Only I had been too stubborn to get knocked out, so it became a beating and mugging. I couldn't decide what was worse: knowing they targeted me because I looked weak, or that I could've ended it by rolling over and playing dead.

"Damn, you're lucky it wasn't worse."

Lucky? Is that really what she said?

I took a breath, testing the pull on my ribs, and let out a short puff of a laugh. "Yeah, real lucky," I snapped, and stood up with my hand pressed against the ache on my side. The silverware was done.

Trichelle paused, staring at me for a moment. "Um, right, well... You also had some other guys stop by looking for you. Did they get in touch with you?"

I walked past her to rinse the incoming dishes. The dinner rush was just starting, and the kitchen buzzed with activity. Plates clanged and fried food sizzled, usually making my mouth water, but the tingle of dread overpowered it.

"I haven't talked to anybody. Who were they and what'd you tell them?" Nobody here knew Nan, so at least they couldn't tell anyone where I was staying.

Her lips curled in a sultry smile. "I don't know, but there were two of them. An older guy and another about our age. They're both cute, but the younger one's really hot, like, he had the prettiest eyes ever—"