All In (7 page)

The bus ride was under three hours, with stops in
between. When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, it almost looked as if they
were back in Pittsburgh. Darkness dripped down around the tall buildings and a
college campus that was very active for the late hour.

New Brunswick appeared to be a busy city. Young
adults littered the sidewalks. Blinking lights pulsed in her eyes, the streets
lined with bars and other assorted clubs.

“Hungry?” Mick asked, taking her hand in his. His calloused
fingers threaded through hers. Cara looked up into his eyes, the lights
mirrored and blinking in them.

“Starved.”
Cara
licked her lips. She was more thirsty than hungry. They loitered on the
sidewalk while Mick dug through his pocket. He pulled a wrinkled piece of paper
from his pocket.

“I think this place is around the block,” Mick said,
sidestepping her to read the street signs. Crowds of rowdy students passed,
their laughter rising into the chilly, night air.

They meandered down the congested sidewalk. Mick’s
hand tightened around hers. He’d been her shield, thinking he needed to keep
her safe. Cara was thankful that he was so attentive. However, a part of her
needed for him to know that she was capable of taking care of herself.

“This is it.” Mick tipped his head back, checking
the lighted marquee above them.
The Fireside Grill
.
He opened the door, steering them
inside.

Mick and Cara made their way toward the bar. Waitresses
in black skirts and white shirts scurried around, serving drinks and platters
of steaming food. A large sound system was mounted behind the bar. Green Day
amplified out into the dining area. Cara leaned into Mick’s ear.

“What’s this guy look like?”

“Barry told me his brother is bald.” Mick faced her.

His hazel eyes almost looked like jade stones in the
dim lighting. Dark whiskers shadowed his cheeks. He looked at her, through her,
his mouth curling into a smile. That grin of his was beginning to crowd her
mind with questions.

Everything seemed to be changing. Cara couldn’t put
her finger on it. They weren’t home anymore. Their journey was altering
something between them, something that’d been the same for so long, stagnated
by a gloomy routine and circumstances they’d felt powerless over. Cara felt the
transition as if the floor was shifting beneath her feet.

Cara swallowed hard at the tugging she felt deep
inside her. All the noise and mayhem seemed to recede and it was now only them.
Mick’s hand gently squeezed hers. A torrent of warmth barreled through her.

“So…” Cara breathed. “If he’s bald, then I guess
we’ll have no trouble picking him out,” she told him through nervous laughter. Her
face felt so hot, battling a bashfulness that she tried to shirk off.

“I think that’s a fair assumption,” Mick winked. His
head canted to the side. Questions flashed in his eyes. Cara tried to read them
as she felt herself being pulled in, traveling a road lined with unfamiliar
scenery. Where each of their thoughts
were
going
during this particular moment, she wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” a voice called out, rising above the thumping
bass.

Mick’s body brushed up against hers as he turned to
face the voice.

“Looks like he found us,” Cara told him.

“Are you my traveling workers?” Ken asked, tossing a
towel down on the bar. He rounded a group of patrons to intercept them. Mick
extended his hand.

“Good eye,” Mick laughed, pumping Ken’s hand
briefly. “Ken, I’m Mick and this is Cara.”

“Nice to meet you both.”
Ken
reached for her hand, his eyes a soft blue. Overhead lighting coated his scalp
with a glaring sheen. “You guys must be beat. Riding the bus, huh? That sucks. The
least I can do is feed you,” he said, waving them to a booth.

Ken was generous, telling them to order whatever
they wanted from the menu. As they gorged themselves on juicy burgers, wings,
and fries, Ken gave them the rundown. After learning that Mick was a short-order
cook, Ken decided to put Mick in the back on kitchen detail.

Cara was glad that he needed her to wait tables. He
agreed to pay them off the books for the first two weeks of the pledging
period.

“Pledging can go on for weeks, and things can get
crazy,” Ken explained, shaking his head. “We’ll give it a two-week run and see
what happens.”

Ken was very friendly and didn’t pull any punches. He
told them that they’d be busy and to expect complete chaos.

“The tips are good, though, I can assure you. Oh,
and did my brother tell you that I have a room upstairs? So you’re all set with
accommodations, but I have to warn you…” He raised a hand. “It’s not the Hilton
and it can be a bit noisy,” Ken said, gesturing at their surroundings.

“We’re not picky,” Mick told him.

Cara could see the relief move over Mick’s face. That
had been a concern. She didn’t want to blow all their earnings paying for
places to stay. Noting that the price of a burger on the menu was almost nine
dollars, Cara could see them running into the red fast.

“Well.” Ken slid out of the booth. “I better get back
to the bar. When you’re ready to head up, let me know and I’ll show you to your
room.”

“Thank you.” Mick said. He extended his hand again
in appreciation.

****

“I’ll sack out on the floor,” Mick told her.

“No way,” Cara said, her tone clipped. “It’s a queen-size
bed … we’ll manage.”

Ken probably thought they were a couple. That was
fine with him, but Mick wasn’t sure he would get any sleep next to Cara, let
alone be able to contain his hard-on.

“You’re the boss,” he told her jokingly.

“Oh, come on!” Cara threw a pillow at him.

Mick pulled the shades down. It was a modest room with
everything they needed, and it was free. The music below had quieted. Ken did
tell them that despite the walls being heavily insulated, some nights were
louder than others.

There was a small bathroom with a sink and shower
stall. One large dresser lined the wall with a mirror above, the walls papered
in a pinstriped blue and tan.

Mick let Cara use the bathroom first. They started
work tomorrow at noon. Ken thought it’d be better if they started during the
lunch hour. The pledging would begin the day after tomorrow. Ken had already
given Cara her uniform. The black skirt and white tee shirt lay across the top
of the dresser. The vision of Cara in that black skirt had Mick once again at
war with his libido.

He undressed while Cara got washed up. Cara emerged
from the bathroom with her blue sleep pants on, a pink tank top pulled across
her petite, but firm-looking breasts. Mick looked away, moving around her to go
brush his teeth.

****

Eventually the racket that rose from the tavern
below quieted. As Cara’s breathing settled into an even and steady rhythm, Mick
rolled into her, needing to sniff the sweet fragrance of her hair. His fingers
curled into a fist, his dick hard yet again.

Her unique scent of shampoo and soap blended,
smelling like a garden. Mick reached out and lightly touched the top of her
hand, her skin smooth and warm.

I
want her so much
.

Mick closed his eyes, trying to think it all
through. He’d been weighing the books in his mind since they left Stroudsburg. He’d
have to read between the lines, those lines being Cara and the books, what she
chose to read and what she really wanted.

Chapter
Fourteen

Cara hadn’t spent this much time on her feet in over
a week. Her body had quickly forgotten what that entailed. Everything ached.
The muscles in her legs
burned,
the trays heavy and
laden with food and drink. The arm that’d been sutured wasn’t the one that
warranted dominant use, though she could feel a slight, dull ache on the inside
of her forearm.

The Fireside Grill was indeed a busy place, an establishment
without lulls. Varied groups came in droves, businessmen and women first, and
later the students from the surrounding campuses that catered to the various
courses of study at Rutgers University.

Pledge week was well underway. The first two nights,
they both barely had the stamina to brush their teeth before collapsing into
bed. Exhaustion had cured any awkwardness that may have settled between them
regarding sharing the same bed.

Ken’s honesty had paid off where their tips were
concerned. There was a distinct difference in the socio-economic class here.
The adult population as well as the students apparently had money, and lots of
it. Ken’s customers were well-dressed and drove expensive cars, and eating out
didn’t seem to put much of a damper on their wallets. Between them both Mick and
Cara were totaling over two hundred dollars a night.

Mick was worried about the money lying around. It
got to the point that he was wearing it on his person, wads of cash inside an envelope
taped around his thigh.

Friday night was especially busy, to the point where
Cara could barely maneuver herself through the crowds with her tray. Mick
always had his eyes on her. Whenever she turned around, she’d see him through
the swinging doors of the kitchen, plating his orders and calling out to his
servers.

When a rowdy group of college boys crossed the line
with their playful flirting, Cara felt pushed into a corner. Flirtatious banter
was one thing, but when one of the boys touched her ass several times and asked
if she tasted as good as she looked, uneasiness began to burrow through her
like a night crawler.

Cara wasn’t used to these types. It was a population
that was refined, educated, and affluent. There also appeared to be a sense of
entitlement that had Cara gritting her teeth. The ringleader of the table had
reached for her, touching her one too many times. The sweat that had pooled between
her shoulder blades froze to ice when Mick’s harsh voice tunneled into her ears
from behind.

“Knock it the fuck off, asshole.”

Cara spun on her heel. Her arm lowered, letting the
empty tray fall, resting at her side. Mick stood beside her, his breaths
heaving and agitated. His apron was soiled with grease, his forehead beaded
with sweat from the wafting heat of the kitchen.

“Touch her one more time and I’ll grind you into a
pile of chopped meat.” His tone was dark, matching a glare that gleamed through
narrow, piercing eyes.

“Is that right?” The rowdy patron laughed, tipping
his beer back. He glared at Mick over the neck of the bottle. “What’re you, her
guard dog? You need to learn some manners or crawl back into your hole.” He set
his bottle down, smiling. His pristine teeth caught his lower lip, amused with
his own words.

“Manners,” Mick huffed. “You’re the one who needs
some coaching … touching a lady like that.”

“She loves it … who’re you kidding? Or maybe you
wouldn’t know what a lady likes.” He lifted his nose into the air.

“That’ll about do it, asshole.”

The room spun as Mick grabbed her shoulders, moving
her out of the way. Mick lunged into the booth, yanking the patron to his feet
by his shirt. Cara stepped back. Her jaw dropped, stunned. She’d seen Mick
angry, but never physically aggressive.

Mick dragged him out of the booth. His friends sat
back, equally surprised. Cheers and whistles rose over the music. His opponent’s
fist rose into the air, but Mick was faster, displaying all the street-smarts
The Hollow had taught him. Mick’s arm recoiled, punching the foul-mouthed
customer square in the jaw. His head flung back, his teeth hitting. Blood
dribbled from both of his nostrils in two rivers of red.

Ken’s voice sounded from behind.

“Whoa … hey, Mick, take it easy.” Ken grabbed Mick
from behind, pulling him back. “Reel it in, buddy.”

****

Ken dismissed them for the day, saying they’d talk
later. He suggested that Mick cool off. In their room, it was quiet as they
took turns using the shower.

Cara dried off inside the small bathroom. Steam
whirled around her face, rising up into the humming fan above. She combed her
hair. Her thoughts scurried in a hundred different directions. The way Mick had
defended her, the look of pure hatred on his face... Was it just him being
protective, or was it jealousy? Maybe it was both.

What
is he thinking?

Her body tensed, feeling a thread of anger stitch
through her.

Does
he think I’m incapable of taking care of myself?

Back home she’d had no problem mouthing off to
whoever got into her space. Here everything was different. They were wandering
through foreign territory. Cara had to force herself to admit that she’d been
unsure of how to address what’d happened.

I
should’ve gone straight to Ken.

Cara frowned at her reflection as she brushed her
hair. She removed the small hairdryer that was mounted on the wall and plugged
it in. She ran her fingers through the wet strands as the hot air dried her
tresses. She really wanted to relax and read, but now that they were both
cooped up inside, it didn’t look like she would be able to escape between the
pages tonight.