Fighting to Stay (2 page)

“You working today?”  I take a sip of my coffee and look across at Jenn. 

“Yeah, start at four.  What are your plans for today?”

“Not much,” I wrinkle my nose.  “Finding a job is my main priority.”

“What sort of work are you interested in?  I know for sure Joe’s doesn’t have anything available because we just hired three new girls, but I might know of somewhere if you’re interested in bar work.”

“I can pretty much do anything – I pretty much have
done
everything over the last few years,” I laugh.  Jenn raises her eyes at me, questioningly.  “Well, not
everything
.  I haven’t stripped or sold my ass, if that’s what you’re thinking.  But I have worked as a receptionist, a pay clerk, a waitress, a barmaid – oh! And I even worked as a paint counter assistant at a hardware store.  I’m very versatile,” I wink.

“Well, let me know if you want the details,” she laughs, shaking her head.

“I might just look around town first, see what’s available.”  I drain my cup and unwrap a sucker.  I shove it my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, savoring the tangy sweetness of the apple flavored candy.

“What’s with the suckers?  You’ve had one in your mouth almost constantly,” Jenn asks.

“I stopped smoking a while back.  Took up suckers instead.  They’re cheaper, and apparently you can’t get lung cancer from them,” I grin.

“Well, I’m glad you gave up that filthy habit.  I gotta go or I’ll be late for work. Text me if you want me to look into that job.”

“’Kay.  Have a good day.” I wave her off and then rinse my cup before going to shower and get dressed. 

Four hours later, I feel like I’ve exhausted almost all of my options.  No one has positions available at the moment.  I’m dressed presentably in a fitted pair of low rider, boot leg jeans, wedge sandal
s and a pretty, flowing white top that contrasts nicely against my tanned skin and the dark wash of my jeans.  My makeup is minimal, and my hair is pulled back.  Still, no one wants to hire me. 

I walk aimlessly along the sidewalk, looking in the shop windows
help wanted signs.  I can’t handle anymore rejection today, so unless they’re advertising a position, I’m not going in.  Coming across a small café, I decide to stop for lunch.  The place is small and quiet.  A young girl stands behind the counter and two customers sit in a corner, eating their meal.

“What can I getcha?”

“Uh, can I get a Coke and one of those sandwiches?”  I ask, pointing to the prepackaged chicken salad sandwiches behind her.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

I take my food and pick a table in the back.  I need to think.  I need a plan. The truth is, I don’t
need
to work.  I just want to.  If I never worked another day in my life, I would still be able to afford to live comfortably.  But, I don’t like spending that money.  I don’t know why, I just don’t.  It feels strange to me…It’s hard to explain.  Sometimes, I feel like that money is dirty, other times, it reminds me so much of my father that I want to vomit.  I was angry at first – when my mother did what she did – but then, I was just relieved.  I know that might not make sense to many people, especially if you lived in a happy household when you were growing up.  I mean, of course, if your parents were happy and in love, and
then
your mom shot your dad and then herself, you would feel destroyed.  Shattered.  Distraught.  But, think about from my perspective.  My dad was abusive and controlling and he had beat my mother’s spirit so low, that she genuinely thought she had no other option. 
Imagine
that.  Imagine being so broken, so crushed, so utterly dejected, that the only way you know you can be free, is to do what my mom did.  Imagine that.  And, then you might understand why I’m at peace with the measures she took.  God knows what my life would be like if
he
was still alive.  I would probably be as broken as she was.

I know one day I will probably need to spend some of the money, but if I can live without touching it, then I will.  That’s exactly why I need to find a job.

I eat my sandwich and drink my Coke, all the while thinking about improving my chances of finding a job.  Maybe I will have to call Jenn and ask her for the details of that job she mentioned earlier.

I toss the plastic container and my empty can in the trash and shove a sucker in my mouth.  I walk back up the other side of the street, looking in windows and absently holding the sucker stick between my fingers like a cigarette.

A smoke would be lovely right about now
.  My mouth starts to water at the thought, so I quickly grab another sucker from my purse and unwrap it, before shoving it in my mouth.

“Oh, sorry,” I step back and move to the side.

“You alright?” The man I almost ran into, asks me.

“Yeah, sorry again.”  I go to walk around him, when
I notice he’s pushing a dolly loaded with cases of alcohol.  “Is there a bar here?”

He nods and points to an old building down the narrow alley way off the path we’re both standing on.  “Just in there.”

“Any chance they’re open?  I’m looking for work.”

“Not yet, but the boss is in.  I’m
sure he wouldn’t mind you comin’ in.  Follow me.”

“Thanks,” I reply, falling into step beside him as he walks towards the bar.

He pushes open an old wooden door.  I walk in behind him and take in my surroundings.  It’s clean and tidy with a large space filled with tables and chairs.  There’s a stage up in the front and a bunch of young guys are there setting up band equipment.  The bar runs along the opposite wall to the stage. 

“Go down that hall.  Third door on your left.  Guy’s name is
Mitch.”

“Thanks,” I smile.

I knock lightly on the closed door.  “Yeah?” I hear called from the other side.

Taking his ‘yeah’ as permission to enter, I turn the door knob and enter cautiously.

“Hi,” I squeak.  I mentally chastise myself and then cough to cover up my nerves.  “Hello, I’m Lacey,” I say, my voice stronger this time.

The man standing before, who I assume is Mitch, snaps his eyebrows together.  “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah.  I, um, well the delivery guy said you were the person to speak to about a job.  I’m new to town and I’m finding it hard to come by some work.  I was hoping you had something.  I’ve got plenty of experience,” I ramble.

He looks at me for a beat and then says, “Sorry, Lacey, we did have
a job going, but I just hired a new girl.”

My face falls.  Dang it!

“Listen, why don’t you leave your contact details and if things don’t work out with the new girl, I’ll give you a holler.”

I smile.  “That sounds great.  Thank you.” 

I leave after giving him my phone number, and head back to Jenn’s.  She’s most likely already at work, so I’ll have the place to myself.  I’m thinking of an afternoon of pizza, Coke and The Hills marathon.  I shove a sucker in my mouth and walk home with a spring in my step.

An hour later, the doorbell rings.  I take my money off the counter and open the door. 

“Delivery for Lacey?”  The young guy asks

“Yep, that’s me.” I hand him the cash and take the box, before closing the door and walking back to the couch.  I lift the lid and inhale.  My mouth fills with water as I take in the delicious-looking pepperoni pizza sitting in front of me.  I take a large slice and stuff it into my mouth; savoring the taste.  I wash it down with a mouthful of soda and sigh.  Most people wouldn’t think twice about having pizza and soda, but for me…it’s different.  My father would never let me have any junk food.  I was never allowed any liquid that wasn’t water or Orange juice.  And I was most definitely never allowed to watch “trash TV” - documentary and educational programs were the only shows I was permitted to watch.  After my parents died, I rebelled. 
A lot.
  I ate so much fast food and drank so many soft drinks that I gained fifteen pounds in a couple of months.  I spent most of my time sitting on the couch watching ridiculous reality shows and shows like
Days of Our Lives.
  It’s how I got the curves I love so much.  I bet it pissed my father off, no end.  The thought makes me smile and shove another slice into my mouth.  Then I curl up and enjoy the latest dramas happening in The Hills.

~*~

“Wake up! You’re snoring.  Eew, and you’re drooling all over my throw pillow.”

I crack my eyes open and look into Jenn’s scrunched up face.

“Huh?” I yawn and look around.  It’s still dark, I must have fallen asleep on the couch.  “What time is it?”

“Just past
midnight.”

“You just get in?”

She nods.  “Scoot on over.”

I sit up and she
throws her ass down beside me with a sigh.

“You okay?” I ask, on a frown.

“Yeah.  Switch is away on a run.  I haven’t seen him for a week and I miss him.”

“What does he do on a run?”

“Not sure.  I’m not allowed to know much of what they do, but I think they meet with other members of the club and discuss goings on, and they meet with suppliers for the bike parts they need.  He calls every night, so I know he’s safe, which is a relief.  He’s told me they don’t participate in illegal activities anymore, that the club is totally above board with their earnings, but I still worry that their past is going to come back and haunt them.”

“That sucks.
  I mean, it’s good that they’re totally legal, but it sucks he has to go away.”  I tell her as I rub her shoulder.

“Sure does.  But, enough of that.  What’s got you eating pizza?”

I roll my eyes and it’s my turn to sigh.  “I couldn’t find a job today.  I think I visited almost every business in town and I still couldn’t come up with anything.”

“
Well, I have good news then!” Jenn grins.

“Why?  What did you do?”

“I called my friend who owns a bar in town.  He said he was looking for a girl. I told him about you – you got the job!”

“Seriously? No interview?” I’m surprised, but relieved.

“Nope.  We worked together a few years back and he trusts my judgment.   Plus, I told him we’d been friends forever, so he’s cool with it.  I said you’d go down tomorrow and have a chat with him to work out a schedule.”

“That’
s fantastic, Jenn.  I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You can thank me by coming to a party next weekend,” she smiles.

“What party?”

“The boys will be back from their run, so we’re having a hog roast.  Everyone will be there – old ladies, kids and the men – so it will be a great time for you to meet everyone.”

“Okay, sounds great.”

“Good.  Well, I’m taking a shower and going to bed. I’m wiped.”

I yawn again, “I’m going to bed as well. Night.”

~*~

The next afternoon, I spend extra time on my appearance.  I choose a pair of dark wash fitted jeans and a pale rose silk camisole.  I wrap a bejeweled belt around my waist and slide on a pair of black high heeled sandals.  I blow dry my hair and style it properly.  Then, I apply a light coverage of makeup.  I think I look pretty good.  I
hope
I look pretty good.

“You look hot!” Jenn hoots when I finish up in the bathroom.  “Here’s the address – it shouldn’t be too hard to find.  Small town and all.”

“Thanks.  I better go; don’t want to be late.”

“Sure, but stop being nervous.  You have nothing to worry about, okay?”  She kisses my cheek and I walk to my car.

~*~

I look down at the piece of paper with the address scribbled in Jenn’s handwriting and then I look up at the building again.  Apparently, I’m at the right address.  The strange thing is, I was here yesterday and I know for a fact that this bar had no work going, because I
asked the owner himself.  I debate whether to call Jenn or not, but I decide to just go in.

“What can I getcha?” A middle aged bottle blonde asks me as I stop at the bar.

“Hi, is this two two zero eight Seaway?” I ask, reading the address off the paper.

“Sure is,” she replies.

I feel my brows knot together.  “Okay, then.   Is Mitch in?”

She gives me a curious look and then flicks her head toward the hall.

“In his office.”

“Thanks.”  I make my way to Mitch’s office.  The door is open and he’s tapping away at a laptop.  He looks up when I tap on the door and raises his eyebrows at me.

“Uh, hey…again.” I mutter.

“Didn’t I see you yesterday?”

“Yeah,” I say, dragging the word out.  “My friend Jenn gave me this address and told me I had a job here.  I think she wrote it down wrong though, so if you could tell me the address of any nearby bars-,”

“You’re Jenn’s friend from out of town?”
He asks, disbelievingly.

“That’s me,” I squeak, afraid I’ve somehow ruined this job before I have even started.