Bad for You (Dirty Deeds) Page 3

  “It’s not even two o’clock yet.”

  I ignored his solid point, not having a comeback for it, and stopped shoving him when we reached the tiny tiled entryway. “As a thank-you for the chair lifting, you get free haircuts for a year.”

  “Figures you offer that when I’m growing this shit out,” he mumbled.

  I tipped my chin up and narrowed my eyes.

  He smiled, thinking my irritation was amusing, like always, then turned and pulled the door open, calling out a “Later” on his way out.

  Stomach growling, I grabbed my food out of the kitchen and planted myself in the middle of the living room floor in front of the sofa, along with the printer paper I was using for the flyers and a few different colored markers.

  I ate while I sketched up an appealing advertisement. I was offering haircuts as a walk-in service but recommended people call or text if they wanted color, putting my apartment and cell phone number on the paper. The ad looked good. It was bright and eye-catching, thanks to my colors—hot pink, purple, and black. In the very center in large, block lettering, I wrote Hair by Shay. And just below it, or Shayla, in parentheses. I really needed to make up my mind already.

  After eating both chalupas, I walked around the apartment complex, knocking on doors before I slid the flyers underneath.

  A couple people who happened to be home answered, but mostly everyone was working or out, or refusing to answer, so I didn’t get a lot of face-to-face time. But the ones I did get to speak to seemed interested enough. Or they were at least being polite. I was too happy to care either way.

  This was happening. Finally. And, my God, this chair was fantastic!

  The second I got back from distributing the flyers, I shared my news. I couldn’t wait another second.

  “Guys! Check it out!” I turned the phone screen and showed my Snapchat followers my sick setup. “You know what this means, right? Hair by Shay, or Shayla, is open for business! Whoo!”

  Taking a seat in my new chair, I added to my story and kept the filter giving me a pretty headband of flowers. I liked that one so much.

  God bless the inventor of filters. It didn’t even matter I wasn’t wearing any makeup. No one could tell.

  “I am so, so excited, you guys. Seriously, this is my dream. You know how I’ve been dying waiting for this room to get set up, and it’s finally set up and I’m just…I don’t know. I’m just so damn happy. I can’t stop looking at everything and touching everything. I never want to leave this room.”

  I added my snap and switched to the cat filter, loving how this one made my voice sound.

  “Follow your dreams, people. Follow them! Whoo! Just look at this chair! And it’s comfy too.” I slouched in it and spun around, smiling at the camera.

  Once that snap was added, I switched to the life filter, the one that made you look flawless and needed to be installed on every iPhone, Android, Nikon, whatever the fuck camera you were using. All of them. This filter was life, hence the name I’d given it.

  “Thank you all so much for following me and all of your sweet, encouraging messages while I waited for this. I am so beyond ready and excited. And I hope you guys are too. Dogwood Beach peeps and anybody living close, if you would like to set something up with me, a cut or a color or whatever, shoot me a message and we’ll talk. Okay? You guys are the best! Bye!”

  I blew a kiss and waved, adding the snap to my story.

  Standing from the chair, I took one more quick video showing the entire room, and then a still shot of the Hair by Shay sign hanging on the bedroom door, which I edited with a note that read or Shayla, still deciding, and a smiley face next to it.

  My phone started ringing.

  “Hey, Mom! Guess what?” I answered.

  “Shayla, I’m sorry to have to tell you Nana died.”

  My breath left me.

  My nana had been fighting a battle with lung cancer for several years. Every time we thought she was over the worst of it, the disease would come back on, full force. It never let go of her.

  I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. “Oh, no. When?”

  “About an hour ago,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “It was a long time coming. She’s been sick and suffering for so long, but it’s still a blow. She loved you so much. She loved all of us so much. Your dad is pretty upset.”

  I bit the tremble in my lip. “How is he doing lately?”

  “He’s the same, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t like hearing that, but I knew that was the answer I’d always hear unless things changed, and when they did, it wouldn’t be for the better. Parkinson’s was a progressive disease. Dad would be the same, until he was worse.

  I didn’t know which response I feared more.

  “How’s Pop?” I asked.

  “He’s been preparing for this, I think.” She sniffled and blew her nose. “But there’s a lot to take care of, and I don’t think he’s up for it. Nana didn’t want a funeral or any fuss whatsoever. That’s one less thing. But she had so much stuff in that house, Shay. And Pop can’t mess with all that.”

  I brushed the tears slipping down my cheeks. My poor nana. And my sweet pop. They were two of the best people I’d ever known.

  “Your dad and I need to go out to Ohio to make arrangements,” Mom said. “I think Pop wants to stay there after she’s cremated. I don’t think he wants to leave the home they shared. Your dad wants to make sure he’s settled and okay before coming back. Do you think you could watch the boys for us while we’re gone? This might take a couple weeks, and I don’t want them missing that much school. Dominic’s already behind in math, and Eli can’t be missing therapy. They always have so much homework, and making all that up…God, I just can’t deal with all this right now…” Her sad, small voice trailed off. “They’re just going to have to miss school. I don’t see any other way around it.”

  “No. I can do it,” I answered, not liking the level of worry in my mother’s voice. “I’ll take care of them, Mom. I can handle everything. I promise.”

  “Shay, they have a ton going on. It’s going to be a lot on you. And with your job—”

  “I can talk to Nate tomorrow about it. He’s understanding, Mom. He is. He’ll let me work around them.”

  I wasn’t worried about Nate. And I knew if I needed entire shifts covered, I had my girls to help me with that. Tori, Kali, and Syd would pitch in. We always had each other’s backs.

  “He won’t mind, Mom. I promise.”

  I wanted to assure her. My mom had so much on her plate already, and how she managed it all while keeping herself together, I would never know. I was sure she could handle anything. But I wouldn’t let this add to her stress when I had the ability to prevent that.

  I could do this.

  “Okay,” she said, sounding a little better. “That’s great. That really helps us out a lot, sweetheart. We’re leaving tomorrow after we take them to school, so you’ll need to pick them up. Dominic gets out at three-fifteen and Eli gets out at three-forty-five. Is that okay?”

  I was supposed to work tomorrow until three, but again, I knew Nate would be cool with this. “Yeah, that’s fine. That’s no problem.”

  “I’m going to make a list of everything you’ll need to know. I need to pack still. I think I’ll have time to make a calendar or something. What’s going on tomorrow? God, what day is this? Oh, right. Monday. Tomorrow…”

  Mom’s voice softened until I couldn’t make anything out, and I knew she was speaking more to herself now than to me, going over everything she still needed to do and stressing herself out further.

  “It’ll be fine, Mom. I got this,” I said. “Everything with the boys will be taken care of.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so lucky to have you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “Tell Dad I love him and give Pop hugs for me, okay?”

  “Okay, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I ended the cal
l and noticed twelve notifications from Snapchat on my screen. I’d get to them later. Dropping my head against the wall and resting my arms on my knees, I looked over at the chocolate-brown futon.

  Waiting area/bed it is.

  Chapter Two

  SEAN

  I pulled my bike behind Whitecaps, parked it, and cut the engine. Closing my eyes, I let my head hang between my shoulders.

  I felt dead.

  Barely two hours of sleep last night. My muscles ached. The skin on my hands felt stretched, burned, and broken. My back was fucked up, courtesy of the floor I’d passed out on like a dumbass, knowing I should’ve quit and gotten some shut-eye when I noticed the time creeping up on four a.m., but also knowing I couldn’t quit.

  I wouldn’t.

  Not until that shit-hole, dump I was now the owner of was good enough.

  I thought it would mean something, signing all those fucking papers yesterday, getting my name on the deed, walking out with the keys in my pocket, I thought I would feel…something. Anything.

  I’d done it right. Saved up and sacrificed. I fucking did it, the way I was supposed to. The way you’re supposed to do it.

  So how come I didn’t feel a fucking thing?

  Maybe because the house didn’t look worth jack shit, had more holes in the wall than actual fucking wall space, carpet that was stained and ripped, a roof that leaked, jacked up plumbing, a shoddy heater. The room sizes were shit. The yard was shit. The kitchen was shit.

  The house? Yeah, you guessed it. Fucking shit.

  But it was all I could afford, and I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Lucky for me, I could fix it up. I knew how to do everything that needed to be done, and what I didn’t know, I’d figure out. I’d learn. But it was a lot of fucking work, and I couldn’t have this taking a while. It had been long enough. Too fucking long. Meaning this wasn’t going to be the last time I rolled up to Whitecaps feeling like ass. I had a lot of long nights ahead of me. I’d give up sleep entirely if I could.

  Fuck it. That house was more important.

  I rolled my neck from side to side, stretching it, as I headed for the back door. Fourteen hours on my feet was going to be a bitch after last night.

  No way was I passing on another shift, though. I couldn’t do that.

  The restaurant lights were on inside, bright fluorescent and unforgiving, but it was quiet. Nobody was here yet. Nobody except Nate, my boss. Sometimes I thought the poor bastard never left.

  I rapped my knuckles against his closed office door, noticing the dried compound still caked on my fingers and the back of my hand. Scowling, I picked it off.

  Real fucking sanitary, dick.

  “Yeah?”

  I opened the door and walked inside.

  Nate sat at his desk with a shitload of papers scattered in front of him, dressed in a shirt and tie like usual, his head down while he studied some order or whatever the fuck as his fingers dug into his temples.

  Not once had I ever walked in here not seeing damn near close to the exact same scene in front of me. I didn’t think there could’ve been that much shit to do when you stayed on top of it the way he did, but what the fuck did I know? I didn’t own a business.

  I had a feeling part of it had to do with keeping his mind off his dead wife.

  Nate was a good guy. I had mad respect for him, for a lot of reasons, but most of that respect stemmed from our first meeting and the shot he gave me when he didn’t have to. When nobody had to.

  And when I didn’t think anybody would.

  * * *

  December 2015

  Arms pulled across my chest and jaw tight, I breathed deep through my nose as I waited for the question I knew was coming.

  The guy, Nate—the owner of Whitecaps Restaurant—was reviewing my application. Currently on the second page and scanning the bottom of it. Lingering there. Not flipping to the third page.

  Which fucking sucked for me. I was hoping this guy was the type to check work history and experience only.

  But now? I should’ve known before I even walked in here.

  I didn’t deserve this job. I didn’t deserve shit.

  Never did. Never will.

  So what the fuck was I even doing standing here? I was wasting my time. Nobody was going to hire me.

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you purposely skipped over this question for a reason?” Nate’s eyes came up and leveled me.

  We had to be around the same age. I wouldn’t peg this guy for much older than thirty, but he looked beat the fuck up, like he’d lived twice as many years as I had. And worse ones too, which was pretty fucking impossible.

  “You got a record?” he asked curtly.

  Lie. Lie. Lie.

  The word no danced on my tongue.

  The truth wasn’t in my best interest. Maybe this guy wouldn’t verify. Maybe I’d get away with it for a few months and make a little money before I had to split.

  “I’ll check,” he added, like the bastard could read my fucking mind.

  Shit.

  I inhaled a deep breath through my nose and nodded once.

  “This a recent thing?” he asked, resting his elbow on the desk.

  I hesitated to share, but thought…fuck it. Didn’t matter one way or the other now if he knew my history. No way was I getting hired.

  “Just got out yesterday,” I told him. “Can’t really get much more recent than that.”

  “What were you in for?”

  Suddenly restless, I shifted my weight on my feet. “Is that something you gotta know?” I asked, speaking louder. “It’s not like you left space on there for me to write it down. You just asked if I’d ever been convicted of a felony. I answered that.”

  “It’s something I need to know if I’m going to hire you,” Nate shot back.

  My head jerked. “You’re still looking to hire me?”

  Nate leaned back in his chair, letting the application drop to the desk, and cocked his head. “I got Miguel in the kitchen and only Miguel, and he’s leaving Friday,” he shared. “This job has been posted for two months, and you’re the first person to come in here asking about it. You got experience. You seem to know what you’re doing. Okay, so you have a record. We all make mistakes or got something in our lives we aren’t proud of. I’m not excusing whatever it is you did. But I’m also not trying to close this place down while I wait for somebody else to come in here asking to get hired. That can’t happen. So, unless you tell me something I really can’t look past in order to give you a chance, yes, I’m still looking to hire you. Job’s yours if you want it.”

  I blinked at the man.

  Honest, I didn’t know what the fuck to say to that. I was pretty sure I was hearing things.

  I hadn’t been offered many chances in my life. Not from people I knew who should’ve given a shit about me. Not from strangers who could’ve. If I wanted something, or if I needed something, which was typically the case, I took it. If I couldn’t get something I needed, I found a way to get it. Either way, nobody did me any favors or gave me any handouts. It didn’t fucking happen.

  There were people who deserved good. I learned early on, I was not one of those people.

  Still, I wasn’t stupid. I knew I might not get a break like this again. Even though I was risking telling him something he might not be able to look past, I had to take that chance.

  Bottom line: I might not deserve shit, but I needed this job.

  At twenty-seven years old, I was going straight. I’d work hard for everything I got from here on out. I’d change my path.

  I had to.

  Not because I earned this or anything better than what I got dealt. This wasn’t for me. Nothing was for me. Not anymore.

  I wasn’t worth dick. And I wouldn’t let myself forget it. That was my penance.

  Nate brought his hand up to scratch at his chin. His brows lifted. He was waiting.

  I pulled in a deep breath. Yeah…fuck it. Time to confess.
I needed this fucking job.

  I wasn’t sure what classified as excusable behavior or not. After I gave him the run-down of everything I’d done, figuring it’d be best to be up front about all of it and not leave anything out, I expected him to toss me out.

  So when he took less than a minute to think his decision over and asked me, “When can you start?” I thought for sure I’d gotten hit one too many times in the head and was just now feeling the effects of those blows.

  A weight I didn’t realize I was carrying slid off my chest.

  Again, I just blinked at the guy, not knowing what to say.

  “Shit,” he mumbled. “My girls are going to eat you alive. That silent treatment thing doesn’t really work with them. Trust me.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that. Didn’t really care either. I was still wondering if he realized he’d just offered me a job.

  Me. Fucking me.

  “Is tomorrow good? Or Friday? I was hoping you could train a day with Miguel…”

  “Don’t need to train. I know what I’m doin’.”

  He nodded in appreciation.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow, though. I wanna get started,” I said, keeping to myself how desperate I was feeling. If I could’ve started today, I would’ve. But he wasn’t suggesting that.

  “Sounds good. Be here at eight. We open at ten.” Nate stood and offered his hand to me. I stepped forward and shook it. “I’m not going to regret hiring you, am I?”

  I shook my head. “I’m done with that life.”

  “Good.”

  “Plus, there ain’t nothing here I wanna steal.”

  He stared at me.

  Shit.

  “You won’t regret it,” I uttered quickly, stepping back.

  Jesus. I was one dumbass comment away from holding the record for world’s shortest length of employment. Just shut the fuck up and leave.

  Nate lifted his chin once more as he smoothed out his tie. “All right, Sean. Thanks for coming in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I stalked to the door and turned the knob, glancing back once more before I opened it. “Appreciate this. A lot,” I said, my throat suddenly feeling tight. “I wasn’t expecting…just, thanks. I mean that.”