Marked

Chapter Fifteen

I woke up in the morning and got ready for my job that started at nine o'clock. I had to be out of the apartment by eight and had to be up by seven. A big transition from my sleep-till-noon schedule.

I got up, put on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. I brushed my hair and did my makeup—all before Chase was even close to waking up.

I grabbed my purse and walked out the door, locking it behind me. I couldn't stop thinking about what Chase said last night. Even as I drove to work, still, our conversation played over and over again in my head.

"We'll need money, and it won't be easy,"

"I know. It was just an idea. I understand if we can't do it,"

"I never said it was a bad idea. We'll find a way,"

We'll find a way.

Somehow those words echoed the loudest in my head. Chase wasn't really saying, "We'll find a way," No, he's deeper than that. He was really saying, "We can do this. You have my full support no matter what. Because I love you and there's nothing I won't do just for you, Scar."

There's reasons why I love that boy; there's reasons why my Mark changed to Match his: he's understanding, no doubt, and understanding is what I need.

Once I got to work, I already had a few tables to bus. I felt the eyes of a group of all-nighters, sitting at the bar, their eyes prying on me.

"Look at her," One of them mocked. "Bussing tables. Serves her right. People like her, Unscripted"—he spat the word like bile—"they disgust me,"

I continued wiping down the table and tried to focus, tried to ignore the man.

"Hey! Hey you! Unscripted!"

I stopped wiping the table and stood up straight, turning around to face them. "Are you talking to me? Because, I do have a name." I put one hand on my hip, moving my weight to my left foot.

One of the men—unshaved, beer belly, motorcycle jacket—laughed. "I refuse to call you anything else but scum."

I nodded. "Mm-hm. So, do you know me? Should I know you?" Don't get cocky...

"Yeah. Everyone in the city of Palm Springs knows who you are. You're that Riley chick, the one who's leading the protests. The one a few days ago."

"Oh, so you do know my name." I wish I could take back those words. I stumbled, trying to hide the fact that I was Riley. "I think you have me mistaken."

"No. I don't. You're that girl who's leading the protests. You're also an Unscripted. You and all your other followers make me sick." His blood-shot eyes peered on me.

"I'm sorry sir, you appear to still be a little out of it," I went back to wiping the table.

"No," I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder and yank me around. The man was inches away from my face. "You're Riley Moore. You're Unscripted. And Unscripted is being a coward."

I bit the inside of my cheek and the drunken man breathed his alcoholic breath into my face. "No. I am Scarlett Rennal. Now get your hands off of me or I'll scream." I felt his grip tighten, then let go. "Thank you. Now, please, you're taking up space." I looked over his shoulder at his buddies sitting at the bar.

I could see his anger rise, showing through in his expression. "Go to hell Unscripted." He spat on my cheek.

I wiped the spit off of my cheek and kneed him in the groin. The man crumbled on himself and I stood above him. "I swear to God, if I ever see your discriminated face in here again, I won't hesitate to kick your ass." I shoved my foot on his shoulder and pushed, sending the man to the ground.