Burnout Read online

  Decker spun around from the stove top to face me, and my breath nearly caught at the sight of him. He was fully dressed for the day. With dark jeans and a blue t-shirt, he looked handsome. His dark, wavy hair was still wet from his shower this morning, and I found myself wanting to run my fingers through it, which was absofuckinglutely ridiculous.

  I was still in my pajamas, which consisted of an oversized t-shirt and short shorts. Lance kept telling me to make myself at home, so I didn’t bother changing. If I had known it would be Decker waking me up with breakfast, though, I might have been a little more attentive to my appearance. “Oh,” I began. “Well, you don’t have to keep me company. I was going to apply for jobs at a few local restaurants. Lance has been keeping me so busy all week I haven’t had the time.”

  Lance filled up every minute of my day. He took me shopping, showed me around town, and even took me to look at a new car he was thinking about buying me. I managed to convince him not to, saying that Mama’s car had sentimental value. He was going out of his way to make me feel at home, and I had to choke back my prejudice about charitable men at every turn. He was my brother, I should be excited to have a family member that wanted to help me, but something kept pulling me back. It was probably his asshole best friend making me feel like shit for even breathing the same air as Lance.

  Decker grabbed a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and set it in front of me on a hot pad before migrating over to the stool beside mine. “I have a better idea, actually. You game?”

  “That depends on what the idea is,” I replied. Decker’s voice sounded sleepy in a sexy sort of way, and I noticed some scruff on his angular jaw. Scooping a spoon full of eggs onto my plate, I noted that he’d sprinkled some cheese on them. Two days ago, I’d made an offhand comment that I preferred my eggs that way, and I was surprised that he remembered.

  Decker reached up to grab a slice of toast, brushing his arm along mine. I turned to casually stare at him as he buttered his bread, noticing how his eyes kept drifting to my legs. “How about this,” he began. “I’ll tell you where we’re going if you give me five truths.”

  “Five truths?” I questioned.

  “For every lie you’ve told Lance this week about your mother, I want you to tell me the truth.”

  I swallowed. No. No way in hell. I didn’t want to risk him telling Lance. “No, thank you. I’m fine with surprises,” I replied with an eye roll before shoveling a spoonful of food in my mouth.

  “Fair enough. Tell me three truths, then, and I’ll get you a job at my friend’s restaurant. She’s always looking for servers.”

  I swallowed my mouthful of food. Taking a gulp of steaming hot coffee, I took my time mulling over his proposition before sputtering my response. “Really? You’d do that?” I asked.

  Decker leaned in closer with a smile, then lifted his thumb up. I stared at him in confusion before he swiped at my bottom lip, tugging the skin with the padding of his finger. My mouth parted in shock as a gasp escaped my chest. “You had some food there,” he rasped before pulling away. Heat flooded my skin, and I squeezed my thighs together before shifting in my seat. His eyes lingered on my mouth where his finger just was, like he was searching for another excuse to touch me. I bit down on my bottom lip, making him let out a subtle gasp.

  Coughing, Decker shook his head before answering my question. “I think a job could be good for you. It’ll help you get on your feet faster. I’ve always had a job, even when my parents insisted on paying for everything. The owner is nice, and they’d work around your school schedule.”

  “I told you. I’m not sure I want to go to school. I can still get my GED and be done with this. Faster I graduate, the faster I can work full time.”

  “That’s a piss poor plan. Why not have both?” Decker asked. “I’ve seen your grades. With a little effort, you could easily get a scholarship. Or are you too lazy to work for it?” His voice was like a sneer, dripping with attitude. So we were back to thinking I was the mooch, yeah?

  I shoved my plate away, no longer hungry. He was pissing me off. Lazy? I was the girl that cared for her dying mother and kept a 4.0 GPA. I was the girl that worked a night shift at the plant so we could afford her hospital bills and keep the trailer. I was the girl that gave up a social life while her mother lived it up. I avoided relationships because I had already been in an abusive one that broke me down.

  I could feel all my doubts spilling from my lips like venom. Scholarships were for other kids. Kids that didn’t smile when their mamas died. Kids that didn’t feel obligated to save their parents and relieved when they failed. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if Lance decides he’s done playing the doting brother and wants nothing to do with me? I need to protect myself,” I said through gritted teeth, maintaining eye contact with Decker as I spoke. It felt invigorating and intimidating to spit out the fears that had been swirling around my head for the last few weeks.

  Decker placed his hand on my knee, drawing my attention back to him. “I’ve known Lance my whole life. I might be wary of having you here, but he won’t abandon you once the newness wears off. He’s fiercely loyal and well-meaning. Protect yourself by accepting help.”

  “Why do you want me to accept help?” I asked. “Last we talked, you were threatening to kick me out.”

  “I think you could be good for Lance,” Decker replied cryptically.

  I swallowed. I hated that I was so distrusting, years of failed promises and let downs were like bricks lined along my back. It was hard to think of anything else with those experiences weighing me down. “I’ll think about it,” I replied. “And I’ll take your offer on the job.”

  “Great!” he said before pulling his hand back while snapping his fingers. “Three truths. Go.” He then leaned forward, bracing his fist under his chin like I was the most exciting thing in the room. Like he wanted to study me. His dark eyes were assessing and tempting. I wanted to run my hand through his dark, disheveled hair.

  I let out a slow exhale before beginning. “My mama liked carnivals. Would go every weekend if she could. She only actually took me once, though, and it was so I could drive her home. She’d always go with her friends or with whatever dick she was sucking. Never with me,” I answered with a sigh. Decker remained utterly silent, his only confirmation that he’d heard me was a nod to continue. I searched his face for pity, expecting a sympathetic smile or even disgust. But all that greeted me was understanding and the courage to continue.

  “I told Lance that she smelled like roses, but it wasn’t the full truth. She liked to smoke cigarettes and would spray herself down with cheap rose water to try and cover the scent of tar.” I hated that smell, it was always on my clothes, my skin, my hair, my soul.

  “And the last one?” Decker encouraged while leaning in even closer. I could have brushed our noses together if I wanted—and I wanted to for some fucked up reason.

  “My Mama loved makeup,” I choked out. “She had many faces—many masks. Everyone she ever met got to see a new one. I was the only person that saw her stripped bare. I never much liked the stuff, but she’d always tried to cake it on me.”

  Decker observed me. His eyes swept over my lips, dipped along the curve of my neck before landing at my cleavage. I sucked in a breath of air, making his hooded eyes travel back up to meet my gaze. Time seemed to slow. It contradicted my racing pulse. It felt like an invisible tether was pulling us together, an unavoidable force that gave his gaze the power to cause goosebumps to travel across my heated skin.

  He leaned in closer. “You don’t need it,” Decker whispered before straightening and taking a bite of toast. I watched his slow chews for a moment and followed the bob of his throat as he swallowed. He stared at his plate before speaking again. “I already got you the job, by the way.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” I asked incredulously as sour frustration crashed into me. “If you already got me the job, why’d you make me tell you all of that?”

  “I
can’t protect Lance unless I have a clear understanding of you, Blakely.” His statement made me both angry and heated. I liked to hold my secrets close to my chest. I wasn’t some map to figure out. I didn’t want to be manipulated into sharing my pain. It was mine. Mine to hold. Mine to bare. Mine to navigate.

  “There’s not much to understand,” I replied with steel.

  He turned from the sink and rolled his eyes. Walking over to me, he placed his fingers under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. I felt my cheeks heat at the contact. “I thought we were telling the truth, huh? You’re like a puzzle, and you know it.”

  “Why do you care so much? You don’t know me,” I whispered. Maybe that was the crux of things. No one had ever bothered to figure me out before, so why now?

  “Maybe we have more in common than you think, Blakely,” he whispered, and I could smell the coffee on his breath. We were locked in a standoff I didn’t want to end. “Go get dressed. You’ll need to leave in an hour.” He pulled away and started picking up my breakfast plates.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, feeling like I was losing at a weird, emotional tug of war.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Your shift starts in an hour,” Decker replied with a smile.

  4

  Blakely

  The restaurant was a block away from Lance’s loft, which was good considering Decker only gave me an hour’s notice to get there. I liked that I could easily walk to work and save money on gas. There was also the added benefit that this area of town wasn’t too bad to travel alone at night. If I had the late shift, I wouldn’t have to worry about walking home. My old Corolla, Roxy, probably wouldn’t last much longer. It seemed like she was done hanging on to her last transmission now that Mama was dead. I honestly couldn’t wait to be rid of the old car with its stained seats and cracked windshield.

  Decker told me to call him when my shift was done so he could pick me up, but I had no plans to do that. I already felt like I owed him for getting me the job, and I didn’t want to feel even more indebted. In my experience, people rarely gave anything without expecting something in return, and at the rate I was going, I’d be paying him and Lance back for the rest of my life. That thought didn’t sit well with me.

  Memphis day drinkers were out in full swing despite the early hour. They clutched beer bottles in their fists as they walked the streets and chatted. It was like the party never stopped here. Sports fans crowded around bars, overflowing onto the sidewalk as they watched a pre-season football game on a flat screen while knocking back beer. I didn’t actually know what team was playing, but everyone seemed to cheer them on.

  Street performers sang bluesy tunes, hoping for tips as an artist drew a mural with chalk on the ground. I liked Memphis. People marched to the beat of their own drums. It had that deeply Southern form of hospitality that reminded me of Texas, and yet boomed with an invigorating vibrancy that danced at a faster pace than my old town. When I first learned that Lance moved here from Chicago, it surprised me. But even after just a few days in Memphis, I understood the appeal.

  I passed a pink and blue mural painted on white brick, with a pair of wings spanning the entire building. I paused to stare at it, thinking about how the beautiful portrait fit my mood. Memphis felt like freedom, and I decided that if and when things didn’t work out with Lance and me, I’d probably stay.

  I was surprised that Lance agreed to me getting a job. All week, he’d been entirely against me working, making me so busy with his sibling bonding agenda that I didn’t even have time to fill out applications. I worried that his determination to keep me at home was some sort of power play. Some men didn’t like an independent woman, they wanted the people in their lives to rely so heavily on them that they didn’t have a choice but to stay. I didn’t want to believe that about Lance, but the thought still crossed my mind any chance it got.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Decker was the one to convince Lance to let me work. Although he was an asshole, he understood my thought processes. Decker might have called me lazy at breakfast, but something told me he was just saying that to press the wound in my chest. Decker wanted to make it bleed so he could examine it, not to actually inflict any damage. I also got the sense that he understood my need for independence—my need to not rely on anyone else—and I liked that.

  There was something about Decker Harris that got under my skin. He was persistent and observant. I didn’t understand if it was out of some duty to his best friend or if he took on projects like me regularly. Regardless, my life leading up to this point made me chronically suspicious. It would take more than a handsome face and a job before I trusted him. He might have been determined to figure me out, but I was just as determined to shy away. I rarely trusted people, and I had no intention of putting my faith in him until I figured out his intentions.

  The restaurant looked more like a bar than a barbecue place. When I walked up to the front door, loud music was reverberating from the inside, making the windows shake. It was only noon on a Saturday, but already the career alcoholics lined the bar, joking and watching the flat screens.

  The name Huck-a-poos BBQ in bold red letters was painted on the brick near the front entrance. I took a moment to stare through the window, noting the short shorts and tight tank tops that the waitresses wore. Looking down at my own outfit, I realized that this place wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Did Decker regularly go here? Did he know what I’d be wearing? A couple of guys speaking loudly and patting each other on the back shoved past me before opening the door to go inside. I decided to swallow my reservations and follow behind them.

  The location was ideal, and waitressing jobs typically had good tips. Not to mention the place was busy, which meant lots of opportunity for work.

  Clasping my fingers in front of me, I walked up to the hostess station where a blonde with smeared black eyeliner was standing. She was beautiful. Her tight tank top, which boasted the restaurant’s name, looked stretched thin across her large breasts. Smacking her gum, she looked me up and down before speaking. “Table for one?” she asked, albeit condescendingly. “We also have open seating at the bar, though I’ll need to see your ID.”

  I started fishing around my pockets, trying to find the scrap of paper with the woman’s name that Decker said would give me the job. Pulling it out, I read the scrawled script, then spoke. “I’m here to see Rose?” I hated how uncertain I sounded. Usually, any jobs I got were based on my own merits. I never had anyone else do the initial leg work for me. “A friend of mine said she had a job for me?”

  The girl looked me up and down once more, her eyes lingering on my breasts and face. “I’ll take you back to see Rose. But you should probably put on some makeup first. Pretty girls get pretty good tips if you know what I’m saying.” She accentuated her point with a wink before nodding at someone else to take over the hostess stand. “Follow me,” she added before walking down the hall.

  Rows of tables with tourists lined either side as a football game played on the flat screens lining the wall. The lunch crowd was cheering for their favorite teams while waitresses sauntered around them. The decor of the place was rustic and warm, with oxidized signs filling every wall, carved initials in the tables, and spilled beer on the floor. The place was loud, and waitresses carrying large trays bustled past with sweat dripping down their necks.

  “I’m Monica, by the way,” the blonde hostess said to me from over her shoulder while diving around a tipsy man looking for the bathroom. She paused to spin him in the right direction before continuing. “I’m glad Rose is finally hiring more people. We’ve been short-staffed for a few weeks, and although the extra shifts are nice, it might be good to have a break every now and then,” she said. Monica had a Southern accent that was both sweet and sassy.

  “Are the hours good?” I asked while dodging another waitress. A few women in the corner were sipping on wine and laughing loudly. The shouting people, flat screens, and music made it hard to hear.
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br />   Monica spun around once we hit the back door leading to the kitchens before speaking again. “Honey, if you want work, there’s plenty around here to do. Do you have any waitressing experience?”

  I had worked at a couple diners here and there before getting hired on at the power plant. Back when I thought college was an option, I figured even if I were just a custodian, it would look good on a resume. But now, I would take work pretty much anywhere. “I’ve worked at a few restaurants,” I replied.

  “Good enough for me,” Monica replied. “I’m a shift manager, which means I’ll probably be responsible for training you. I hope you learn fast, because tonight a local band is playing, and it’ll be all hands on deck.”

  Monica opened the door with her back, and I was led inside to a frantic kitchen. Men in white aprons were yelling at one another, flinging plates as they went. The energy seemed high and stressful. I kind of liked it. Monica ignored a tall man with bulging muscles that tried speaking to her, his sultry eyes looking her up and down as she directed me toward the back office. She didn’t even seem to notice him.

  “Good luck. Rose is a little…different. This restaurant is her baby though.”

  “I like different. Thanks for the tour,” I replied.

  With a single nod, Monica knocked on the door and left me standing there. She walked back through the chaotic kitchen and into the central part of the restaurant.

  “Come in,” a voice on the other side of the door called. Surprisingly, I detected a hint of a British accent. Twisting the doorknob, I opened the door and slipped inside the stark, clean office. Compared to the rustic vibe of the restaurant, this office was spotless. I doubted it ever saw a speck of dust. Crisp, white walls filled four corners, and her white desk stood in the middle on marble tile. It felt like I was walking into an entirely different building.