To Steal a Darling

Chapter 1

Kennedy

I never promised I was a good person.

But, time and time again, my ex tried to remind me how hard patience was. It really wasn't a virtue I prided myself in having. Truth was, I just wanted to wake up, earn my paycheck, spend it out with friends, and wake up to do it all over again. I didn't care about the noise in between.

Reckless thinking, maybe. But I wasn't in a position to fix that anytime soon.

"Kennedy, you're late," my boss said as he breezed past my shoulder. I bit my tongue as I tied the apron around my waist, strands of hair already coming loose around my face. Tonight was going to be rough–and it all started with the prick sitting on the furthest side of the bar.

"Sorry, Dan," I muttered and shuffled to the growing pile of dirty glasses.

"Sorry is starting to sound like a broken record," he called from the door before it swung shut.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. I tried my hardest not to look at him. To just focus on these dishes so I could make some drinks and get on with my night. I really did. But I could feel his glare burning into my cheek like the red-hot butt of a cigarette.

So I let the whiskey glass clatter into the metal sink, earning a side-eye from the patron across from me. I offered him a polite smile before twisting toward the man of the hour. He had that stupid jean jacket on with those stupid mountain patches on the front pocket. His hair was stupid, too. He was stupid.

I pressed my palms against the counter's edge, stopped before him, and kept my smile wide. "What are you doing here, Ted?"

He picked up the glass and dragged it against his lip before taking a long swig, sweat lining his brow. When he shrugged, my eye twitched. "This place off limits or something?"

What I would do to just smash that stupid glass over his head. "I think I'm legally obligated to tell you no. But yes, yes it is."

His lip curled as he reached into his pocket and threw a crumpled dollar pill on the bartop. "There. I'm a tipping patron now."

I finally frowned, snatching it and tearing it in half. It was soggy and smelled like the fifty strip clubs he'd been to in the last month. "Fuck your dollar." Ted watched the two halves drift back to the counter, landing on one of four rings of water that was dirtying his space. I backed away, nails digging into my palms. "Just leave. Stop following me around."

I returned to the dishes, huffing out the anger that was boiling in my chest. When I lifted my head, the same patron who had given me a side eye stared at me in disbelief. I blew the strand of hair out of my eye.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" I muttered just loud enough that he'd hear.

"No, I'm good," he bit back at me. He slapped a dollar on the counter before grabbing the elbow of his date and ushering for her to leave. "Try not to tear my money up while you're at it."

I lowered my focus to the pathetic tip, humming in response before they had turned to leave. Unlike last time, though, I grabbed it and slid it into my pocket. See, Ted had an awful habit of slithering back into my life when he needed something. Money. A favor. A place to sleep. He used to have a good job and did well enough for himself, but now he was a deadbeat struggling to hold a job at the grocery store.

We broke up months before his life fell apart, but he loved to remind me why I was with him in the first place. Hint: it wasn't because of his charming looks or good personality. Unfortunately for me, he was the best and easiest lay I could find within a ten minute commute from my place that didn't require the awkward tango of free drinks and STD tests.