Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

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Sincerely,

Riverside Apartment and Condo Management Division

“Shit, shit, shit!” I threw the letter down on the counter on top of the stack of mostly unopened mail that was piling up. I knew I was a month behind, and that it wasn’t the first time I’d gotten behind, but I’d always come through at the last minute. This time, though…I had no idea how to make that happen. I felt like crying, but no tears would come.

I turned around and saw the glass from Cooper’s so-called miracle hangover cure and the whole scene replayed in my head. I picked up the glass and dumped all the congealed-looking liquid down the sink and slammed the cup on the counter, fighting hard to resist the urge to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces.

Chapter Four

The next week passed by in the blink of an eye, even though it seemed that the days themselves moved slowly. In the end, I had managed to duct tape the seat on Cherry Bomb so that I could at least go out riding. It was a good stress reliever if nothing else. In the past week, I had gone on two job interviews, but was still waiting to hear anything back on Friday afternoon.

I was pacing around my dining room table, thinking, when the phone rang. I rushed across the kitchen to answer but stalled out when I saw my mom’s name and picture pop up on the screen. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to her, but then again, maybe she would have some motherly words of advice that could help calm my nerves.

“Hi, Mom,” I answered, sinking down onto one of the dining table chairs.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she chirped back and I could picture her face. “How’s life in the big city?”

It had been a little over a year since I had moved to “the big city” from the small town in Kansas that I grew up in. It was only a few hours by plane and I knew Mom and Dad would pay for the ticket, but I hadn’t managed to make it home in quite some time. I kept meaning to, but when I worked at the coffee shop, I picked up as many shifts as I could—which meant working most every weekend and sometimes really odd hours. But listening to the smile in my mom’s voice was making me feel a little guilty about not making the time. I knew she and my dad missed me and wished that I would settle down and come home again.

“It’s good,” I lied, fighting the urge to unpack all my current problems and cry to her. “How are you and Daddy?””

“Oh, we’re just fine, darling. Your dad is out playing golf with some friends from church. So I’m catching up on some things here around the house and figured I would give you a call and see if I could chat with you, now that you’re not working all the time on the weekends.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to tell her about losing the job. It would open up a whole box of questions that I didn’t have answers to, but I hated lying to my parents. It always felt like living a double life or something. Growing up, it had been hard enough. They never approved of the way I dressed, the people I associated with, or the hours I would keep. When I was younger, they had kept a tight leash on me to keep me from going off the deep end—or at least their version of the deep end. I can still remember telling my parents when I got my first tattoo. I had never seen them look more devastated before and it was a memory that would haunt me forever. I had never set out to hurt them. I was only trying to express myself and be free.

As their only girl, it should have been up to me to live up to all their dreams and expectations for me. I always felt like I had fallen short. My two brothers were a lot older than I was and had made it in this world—by my parent’s standards, anyway. ‘Drew was a firefighter and Jake was a high paid sports attorney working for the Royals or the Chiefs, I could never remember which one. It was part of the reason I’d left home in the first place. The weight of their disappointment had been too much to take on a daily basis. I wanted to be free to live on my own terms, and I knew that would never happen with them constantly looking over my shoulder.

I always figured that eventually, I would get my shit together and make them proud of me.

“So much for that plan,” I whispered.

“What was that honey?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. Listen, Mom, I have to tell you something. The job at the ad agency didn’t work out as well as I had thought. I actually was let go, last Friday.” There, I had said it, I pinched my eyes closed and waited.

“Well, that’s a shame. What happened?”

“I wasn’t the right fit,” I answered, hoping that would be vague enough that she would sense I didn’t want to talk about it further.

“Hmmm. So what’s next?”

“I had a couple interviews earlier this week, so I’m waiting for a call back. Something will work out,” I assured her, infusing a confidence to my tone that I wasn’t sure came out as genuine.

My mother didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Well, you know, honey, you always have a home here. I could talk to Greg, down at the grocery store. I just saw a hiring sign up in his window last week.”

I shuddered at the suggestion. There was no doubt Greg would give me a job if I asked, He was a full-fledged creeper. I had never personally had an issue with him, but several of my high school girlfriends had told me plenty about his habit of inappropriate touching of both them, and himself, when they worked at the store after school or in the summertime. I was surprised my mom hadn’t heard the rumors firsthand. Then again, she tended to live in her own little world, blocking out most of the world around her, especially the darker sides.

A shiver crept up my spine, the edge of a memory of my own encounters in the small town.

“Thanks, Mom, but I’m okay. I think one of these jobs will work out. Don’t worry about me,” I said, forcing the memories from my mind.

I could tell she wanted to push me harder, to plead her case further, but thankfully, she dropped it and changed the subject to a safer topic and we chatted away for about half an hour before saying our goodbyes.

Once we hung up, I sat down on my couch and flicked on the TV, desperately needing the noise to drown out my brewing anxiety attack. It was Friday night but nothing worth watching was on. I realized that I probably needed to call the cable company and have them shut it off anyways. One less bill to worry about. I looked at the clock and debated going down to Steelrods. At least I knew I could drink for free, since Tank was always working the bar on Friday nights. But after last Friday’s fiasco I was a little hesitant to go out and do that whole thing again. I wondered if Hannah and Jett were going to be there, if that still even a thing. Judging by how quickly he had moved on from dry humping my ass to making out with Hannah in a bathroom, it didn’t exactly scream long term commitment.

Personally, I had never been a fan of the one-night deal. Sure, there were boys in high school that I messed around with, but Marx had actually been my first real boyfriend and first a lot of other things.