Released (Caged 3)

“What’s your name?”

“Liam,” I replied.

“You been workin’ here long?”

“Just a few weeks,” I said. “Still trying to get the hang of this.”

I waved a hand toward the workbench and hoped he’d take the hint and fuck off. He didn’t, of course.

“I still think you look awful familiar,” he proclaimed. “What did you say your last name is?”

“I didn’t,” I replied.

“Okay…so what is it?”

Deciding the guy was never going to give up and being far too tired to come up with any sort of clever retort, I just came out with it.

“Teague,” I said. “Liam Teague.”

“Teague? Really?” the dude said with a smirk. “What are you, some distant cousin or something?”

“No,” I replied.

“But you’re related to ‘em, right?”

“I guess,” I muttered.

“Well, how?”

I put down the bur and turned to face the guy.

“I’m Douglass Teague’s son,” I said bluntly. “Now do you think you can leave me the fuck alone?”

He laughed.

“Bullshit!” he called out. “No fucking way!”

“Whatever.” I tried to turn back to my work, but pimple-cheeks was in my face again.

“Who are you really?”

“Jesus Christ!” I snarled. “You want a copy of the fucking birth certificate?”

The shift supervisor—one I didn’t know, since I wasn’t on my normal shift—came up to us.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

“Get this asshole away from me,” I growled.

“I think you need to calm down,” the supervisor said.

Calm down.

I clenched my fists against my thighs, and I fought against the urge to start beating one of them with my fists while I kicked the other one to the ground to save for later. Remembering that the opposite of fight was flight, I shoved past both of them and made my way to the men’s room where I did a little deep breathing until I calmed down. My shift was almost over anyway, so I made myself fairly invisible until it was time to clock out.

I was going to have to figure out some way of dealing with this, or I was going to end up fired from the company I was destined to someday own. I decided to bring it up with Erin in our next session, but when I got there, I discovered she already had an agenda for the day.

“I think I need some anger management,” I announced as I walked into her office.