The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,109
form.
“In case he decides to come back again. He’s a frequent customer, but I’m banning him. We need documentation,” Donna explains.
I start to fill it out. Gladly.
I’m leaving the restaurant along with Donna and a couple of other coworkers. Chuck already took off after surveilling the parking lot, looking for our troublesome customer. Once he declared the coast was clear, Donna let him go.
My car starts up with ease—it’s always a little nerve-wracking since the alternator went out. I still don’t quite trust it. I wave at Donna, who zooms out of the parking lot as if her tail is on fire.
I’m sure she’s tired. We all are. It was an extra busy night.
I put the car into reverse and start to back out of the parking spot when the engine stalls. Sputters.
Dies.
My heart squeezes as I put the gear into park, the car lurching forward. I attempt to start the car, the engine trying, but it doesn’t quite make it. I sit there for a moment, thinking about what I should do. Who I can call.
God, this stupid car. I absolutely cannot afford for it to go out on me again. I’m already in debt to Jackson, and whatever else is wrong with it, it’s probably a really expensive fix. I wish I could get a new car, but that costs money.
Money I don’t have. I’m only eighteen. I’m sure I wouldn’t qualify for a loan, and it’s not like I can afford a monthly car payment. My budget is pretty tight already.
Telling myself I don’t need to send myself into a worse panic, I pull out my phone and bring up my messages, hating that Jackson isn’t here to come to my rescue. He’d drop whatever and come running. I know he would.
But he’s gone. I can’t rely on him all the time.
I’m just starting to type out a text to Hayden when there’s a rapid-fire knock on my window, startling me so badly, my phone slips from my fingers, falling onto the floorboard. I glance up to find the drunk customer standing there, an evil grin on his face.
“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Car trouble?” he yells, his voice muffled.
Shit, shit, shit! What is he doing here?
I reach down, scared to take my eyes off of him, my hand scrambling, in search of my phone, but I can’t find it. It must’ve slipped under the seat and out of my reach.
He bangs on the window again, harder this time. “You’re a bitch, you know that? Ruining my good time. Why are you all bitches, huh? What the fuck do you want from us?”
He’s angry at women in general, I guess. Lucky me.
And oh God, he looks furious. His face is red, his eyes wide and blazing. Has he been hanging around here all this time? Why didn’t Chuck spot him? Was he hiding behind a tree? There are no other cars in the lot. This is why we felt safe. Why Donna let Chuck and the other guys who work with us leave earlier.
Big mistake. Huge.
“Go away!” I scream at the guy, which only infuriates him. I take my gaze away from him long enough to try and grab my phone, my fingers curling around it. Finally.
I pull it out, finishing the sentence I started to Hayden.
Me: Hey! Can you come get me at the restaurant? My car broke down again and there’s a guy
The man reaches for the door handle, lifting up on it. My automatic locks don’t work all the time, and the door actually swings open, letting in a gust of cool air and an overwhelming scent of beer mixed with sweat.
And the man. The man barges into my car, lunging for me. I scream as loud as I can, the phone falling from my hand again. I hear it land with a clatter, and I have no idea if the text actually sent to Hayden or not. I try to fight him off, struggling beneath him, but he’s so heavy. And smelly.
He grabs hold of my shoulders, giving me a shake. “Shut up! Quit screaming!”
I scream even louder. I have no idea what he wants from me, but I’m terrified. He lets me go to smack me across the face with his fist, so hard my ears ring and the scream dies in my throat.
“That’s it. Be a good girl. Don’t yell,” he tells me, his voice calmer. Quieter. “Be nice, and I’ll be nice too.”