Or say something nice and completely innocent and he’d take it the wrong way. He’d take it as an invitation to start kissing me and feeling me up.
During one of my stepfather’s brief moments of awareness, he walked in on Travis cornering me against the wall. All I did was tell Travis to have a good day before I walked out the door for work.
Travis professed his love for me and tried to claim me as his girl. I don’t know if Herb was confused or just drunker than he looked, but I got the feeling he thought I wanted to be with Travis too. Herb told him to keep his fucking hands off of me that I was too fucking young. If we wanted to be together, we had to wait until I was eighteen or Travis could go to jail.
And so Travis backed off, at least for a little while.
Travis’ eyes roam over me slowly, intimately, lingering on my breasts. My skin crawls and my spine stiffens. Everything inside me is screaming for me to run, to get the fuck out of here.
I take a step back, trying to put some distance between us. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare as he watches me intensely. The way his head sways and bobs reminds me of a snake. Any second now he could strike.
“Where have you been staying?” he asks.
“With a friend,” I say evasively, sensing it’s a loaded question.
I dare not take my eyes off of him but I so want to glance behind me, to see if any of the cooks or managers are around. Everyone tends to disappear when it’s slow and no one is coming through the drive thru.
“Not with Nicole,” he says calmly, too calmly.
“Not with Nicole,” I agree.
“Then with who? What other friends do you have?”
I can’t spit out a name. My brain just keeps pulling up a blank. I open my mouth but nothing will come out of it.
Travis strikes. Jumping forward, he grabs me, his hand latching painfully onto my arm. He yanks me towards him and slams my stomach into the counter.
“Who have you been staying with?” he hisses, one hand grabbing me by the back of the head, his fingers pulling viciously on my hair.
Tears sting my eyes but I don’t try to fight back yet, knowing that once I hit him, there’s no going back. I can take him, but I can’t take him and all the guys he brought with him.
“You shacking up with a guy, Christy?” he asks softer yet somehow more menacing. “Who do I have to kill?” His fingers tighten in my hair. “Who’s been touching my property?”
“What’s going on here?” Diane calls out from the back, her voice loud and sharp with authority.
Travis slides his fingers out of my hair, taking quite a few strands with him, and takes a step back.
His eyes are wide with a strange kind of gleeful innocence.
“Christy?” Diane asks, walking up to me. “Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath and straighten away from the counter.
“Is this man bothering you?” Diane asks with a frown as she takes in my disheveled appearance. Her eyes narrow and her lips pinch into a tight line as she looks between us.
I straighten the hat on top of my head and shoot a glance towards Travis.
He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. I get the sick feeling that he wants me to call him out. That he wants me to make a big scene out of this.
The guys behind him are smirking and talking quietly among themselves. They’re all looking for trouble, I just fucking know it. They want an excuse to start shit.
“Christy,” Diane says, placing her hand on my arm and turning me away from Travis. “Was he touching you? Do I need to call the cops?” she asks quietly.
I can’t get Diane involved in this, I can’t. I can’t make her a target.
I know what these guys will do and I know what they’re capable of. If she calls the cops, the cops may come and get involved. But unless there’s proof they’ve done something illegal they won’t arrest them, they’ll just order them to move along. The crew will leave but they’ll be back later, and they’ll pay back Diane for calling the cops on them.
“No,” I say and shake my head. “No cops,” I clarify, and Diane straightens away from me with a look of confusion. “This is my stepbrother, Travis…”
Travis grins and waves his hand at Diane.
Diane stiffens and looks at me pointedly but I look away.
“Okay, Christy,” she says finally. “I don’t mind if you have people stopping in but if they want to stay they’ll need to purchase something.”
I nod my head and look up at her, my eyes conveying my gratitude and relief.