Fast Car | Escapes #1

Chapter 3

"They are," I whispered. I'd given up any idea of actually going to either one. 

"Well, buy yourself a nice dress and take yourself. Brayden can  even take you if you want to go with someone."

Brayden was his son. I'd never met the guy, but I'd heard a lot about him. Most of it was about some girlfriend that his parents thought would stick, but she never did. I wasn't sure if he was a womanizer like Ryan, or if there was some sort of flaw that drove women away from him. His age, too, was enough to give me pause. I was sure he was handsome - it was all his parents had ever said about him - but he had also graduated college. 

What would people think of a seventeen-year-old showing up with someone that was about 23? The age gap was a little bit much and kids would talk. 

"I don't know," I replied. "I'll think about it. I mean, I haven't even met him. We're strangers."

Mr. Milton cracked a smile. I knew the look and immediately regretted saying anything. "We can fix that."

I was suddenly dreading the weekend.

Everyone was sent home not too long after getting our checks. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I had no choice. 

This was just another one of the ways that I felt trapped in my life. I couldn't go where I wanted, do what I wanted, or even go home without being worried my dad was mad about something. I'd learned how to take a beating - something most kids my age had no experience with. I was envious of them. I couldn't stay with someone else. If I didn't come home, I wasn't sure what kind of beating I would get, and I didn't want to find out. 

The apartment door creaked open when I got home. My dad, as usual, was waiting for me on the sofa. This was our Friday night ritual. I got home, he checked my pay, and I cooked. Tonight was no different. He held out his hand and I gave him the paper. He loomed over it before putting it on the table in front of him. "How was work?" he asked.

This was different. I sat my purse on the usual chair and stepped into the kitchen. "Busy. Today is the day we do inventory." I opened the fridge and it was empty. Did I forget to go shopping? I thought for a moment. No, I normally go on Sundays. Why was there nothing in the fridge? I closed the door and turned to the sink. It was full, which was also odd. I made sure to keep all the dishes washed. 

I turned and looked at my dad. He was watching me. Why was he sober? "Dad, was someone else here today?"

His eyes narrowed. "What does it matter to you?"

"I can't make dinner," I replied, knowing I would likely get backhanded for actually responding to his question because he wasn't asking me - he was warning me. "There's no food. I can't go to the bank to deposit that money tonight, and everything is closed, so there's nothing to get."

He frowned. "I actually have a life that doesn't revolve around you," he said. "Just do what you can."

"With what?" I braced myself as he stood, knowing what was coming. "I can't make what we don't have."

He unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the loops. "Did you just talk back to me?" I shook my head, backing up to the counter behind me. "I think you did. You know what happens when you disrespect me."

---

I slung another can onto the shelf, barely managing to not dent it. Why were cans so easy to dent? Every time I restock them, they ended up dented and we couldn't sell them until some little old lady tried to get us to sell them to her cheap. 

"People should just get over it," I muttered under my breath. Cans were flying from my hands onto the shelf, but it wasn't enough to get the rage I felt out of my system. I needed to do something else. I wasn't sure what, but right at that moment, the store felt like a cage. It wasn't, but it felt that way. I couldn't go to another job or do anything else. My circumstances trapped me in yet another place, and I was sure that I was never going to get out of here.

"What's got you so upset this early in the morning?" an annoying voice asked.

"Leave me alone, Charlie."

"Hey, don't snap at me. I can see it's probably just that time of the month, but you don't need to take it out on me."

I had to hold myself back from growling and throwing a can at his head. The amount of rage after being beaten the night before was astronomical. Things couldn't keep going this way. They just couldn't. Things were coming to a head, and I was ready to pop this pimple. Beyond ready, actually. I wasn't sure how much more of all of this I could take.

"Leave her alone," said a familiar voice. I turned and the guy from the previous morning was standing behind me. The guy that made his friend let go of my coat. I would have recognized him anywhere, but now that I was getting a good look at him, he looked familiar to me. 

Charlie rolled his eyes. "You saw her. She's just moody. You should know about this stuff. Didn't your mom teach you anything?"

The guy rolled his eyes. "Of course she did. She taught me that not every girl is comfortable with a creepy stranger talking about their periods. Shut up about it, man. Can't you see she's not wanting to talk to you?"

I glared at Charlie. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine," he said. "Sorry. I won't talk about your body without your permission. Is that good enough?" he asked the other guy.

"Don't ask me," he said, pointing at me. "You weren't talking about me. Ask her."

"Brayden!" Mr. Milton shouted from the office, making all three of us plus the cashiers up front jump. We all turn. "Come here." He went back into the office. 

The guy lifted his hand in a wave as he walked off. "Later." 

No. No way. I stared as he walked away. That's why he looked familiar. He was the son of the owner. The guy that my boss offered to have take me to homecoming and prom. The guy that's usually loitering at the bus stop. Drunk. 

I didn't need another drunkard in my life. That was unacceptable. 

"Careful," Charlie said. "A fly may fly in your mouth if you leave it open like that."

I shut my mouth and slowly turned my head to look at him. He was smirking. I held up a can like I was going to throw it at him. "I swear to god, if you don't shut up and keep moving, I am throwing this at your head," I told him in an even voice. "I was the pitcher of my softball team in middle school, so I won't miss."

His eyes got bigger, but he kept moving, so I counted that as a win. 

Without really thinking about it, I put the can on the shelf and began walking towards the office. I had to figure out how to tell Mr. Milton I wanted nothing to do with his son without actually telling him why.