The Day She Cried Read online

  I ignore them both and wonder if she’s in the back crying her fucking eyes out. I hope she is. I hope she cries buckets and buckets of goddamned tears.

  “So are we just fucking with her or what?” Jamal questions. He and Mike both work with me at the auto repair shop. They know about my sister’s death and the subsequent trial where Dad and I sued the bitch for all we could. It satisfies me knowing she’s penniless and unhappy as fuck.

  “Or what,” I answer. Truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing here, but now that I’ve had a taste of her pitiful expressions, I want to see more of them.

  I want her to beg.

  To fucking plead for me to leave her alone.

  “This is so fucked up,” Mike says with a boisterous laugh. “But I’m game.”

  I crack my neck. “I want her to know what it feels like.”

  Sensing her presence again, I jerk my head her way. She’s making a new Coke for Jamal. Her entire body is shaking. I can tell she doesn’t want to come over here, but she does anyway.

  Sheep go where they’re told.

  They follow and follow and follow because that’s what sheep do.

  Sheep don’t buck the system. Sheep don’t disobey. They can’t because they’re motherfucking sheep.

  “Here, sir,” she murmurs as she sets it down.

  “You’ve got something in your hair,” Mike says, pointing at her.

  She frowns and brings her slender fingertips to her hair. “I do?”

  He lifts his straw and with a huff, sends his vanilla shake shooting from the straw. It sprays the side of her face and head. She gapes at him in horror. When she glances at me, with such fucking terror in her eyes as if I’ll save her, I shrug.

  “You do have something in your hair,” I agree.

  Jamal roars with laughter. “Do you get sticky white stuff in your hair often? Better yet, do you like sticky white stuff all over your face? I can make your wishes come true.” He grabs his crotch in a salacious manner.

  Her face turns bright red and her blue eyes flare to life. For a brief moment, she’s not a fucking sheep. She’s a wolf.

  “Prick,” she seethes and throws her notepad at Jamal.

  “Dumb bitch,” Jamal utters as he tosses the pad on the table.

  I snag it and pull a pencil from my pocket. I always keep one on me at the shop because I’m sketching machine designs all the time.

  I want your tears. I want them all.

  Mike snorts at my note. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a hard-on for this cunt.”

  I grit my teeth, ignoring him as I sketch out a dead raven on the paper. At one time, it was the truth. Back in high school, I’d been smitten with the bubbly blonde who ruled the school with her psycho best friend Whitney. There was even a time or two when I’d jack off late at night thinking about how hot Courtney was in her cheerleading uniform. All smooth legs and sweet tits. My cock stirs at the mental reminder and I let loose an irritated huff.

  Not anymore.

  Now she’s just a boring bitch.

  Greasy. Ugly. Fucking poor.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” she mumbles as she sets food out in front of us.

  I flick my gaze up to her. She’s not ugly. On the inside, yes. But on the outside, she’s still fucking pretty and it pisses me off. Eventually, some man is going to take a shining to her and sweep her off her feet. He’ll put the silver spoon back in her perfect mouth and give her every goddamned thing she no longer deserves.

  “Leave,” I bark out as I tear off my picture and hand it to her. “I’d like to eat my meal without feeling like I’ll fucking puke.”

  She winces from my words but takes the note. Carefully, she folds it and tucks it into her apron as if she treasures my hateful words. Dumb cunt.

  “If you need anything else,” she mutters, “Keith will assist you.” With those words, she bolts and doesn’t return.

  Fucking pussy.

  The rumble of my midnight black 1970 Dodge Challenger resounds over the radio on my way home from the shop. My head’s all kinds of fucked after seeing Courtney the other day. Last night, I slept in Raven’s bed. Felt like someone was pulling my goddamned heart from my chest all over again. I’ve been in a pissy mood ever since and the guys I work with are irritated as hell with me.

  I worked late rebuilding an engine on a newer Nissan for a needy-ass client, so I’m itching to get home to Harvey Benjamin so I can feed him and let him out. When my home became anything but that, I thought the loneliness would fucking consume me. But then this pudgy little pup whimpered and cried from beneath my porch. A little pit runt that had been abandoned by his mother. My neighbor Jill tried to steal the dog from me, even named the little thing, but I wasn’t having it. Besides, she’s got like fifteen dogs already. Harvey Benjamin, as she called him, was mine.

  I’m lost to thoughts of how that dog takes up the whole goddamned bed now that he’s grown—far from a fucking runt—when I see a woman walking out of town on the side of the road. A familiar woman. A certain blond nemesis.

  Her shoulders are hunched and she looks utterly dejected as she hobbles along. I want to laugh and shoot her the bird as I roar past her. Instead, I find myself slowing so I can revel in her misery. I want to wring it from her and drink from it. As I near, her head turns and our eyes meet. She visibly winces at seeing me.

  Good.

  It makes me want to make her do that a fuck lot more.

  I roll down my window and brake until I’m creeping along beside her. “Need a ride?” I won’t give her one, but I want to see her beg anyway.

  “I can walk,” she mutters and tears her gaze from mine. Her steps quicken, but that makes her hobbling more noticeable. The wind picks up as a storm brews and sends her stray hairs whipping into her face.

  “You look like you can’t walk, actually.”

  She flashes me a fiery glare—much like the one she gave to Jamal the other night. There’s the wolf hiding in sheep’s clothing. “What do you want from me?” she hisses, frustration written all over her face. Her plump lips pout out and her golden brows furl together. She stops walking and crosses her arms over her tits. Tits I’ve thought about often. Back then. Back when I was just a stupid fuck who had a crush on a dumb cheerleader.

  “Everything. Nothing. I don’t fucking know,” I blurt out.

  Her eyes widen at my truthfulness and I wish I could reel them back in. “But you want something from me.” She mutters the words as a statement and not a question.

  “It’ll be dark soon, maybe even fucking raining, and you’ll be walking out here all by yourself.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  I grunt. “Until someone kidnaps your blond ass.”

  She scowls and starts stomping until she remembers whatever is giving her pain. Then, she starts limping again.

  “Get in the car.”

  “No.”

  “Goddammit, get in the car.”

  “No.”

  “You know what? Fuck this.”

  I gas the engine and roar away from her. I’m almost home when it starts to rain. I chuckle to myself as I pull into my garage. Harvey Benjamin is waiting for me at the door. I swear that dog smiles. Cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. He may look like a typical badass pit, but he’s a goofy motherfucker who lives for me to come home. I let him outside but within minutes, he’s scratching to come back in because he hates storms.

  “You hungry, HB?” I ask as I scoop some food into his bowl.

  He barks and his tail wags wildly. I’m considering a shower before dinner when I hear a crack of thunder. Instead of being glad my ass is home, I can’t help but think of Courtney walking through this. She’s like this pitiful dog when I found him under my porch.

  Probably shivering and crying and wishing someone would help her.

  “Fuck,” I groan. Another crack of thunder rattles my windows. “You ready for a ride, bud?”

  My dog whimpers and runs to the
garage door. I swipe my keys and let him into the backseat before climbing back in. It’s a short drive before I find her walking, not far from where I left her. She hugs her purse to her chest as if that might protect it from the elements.

  When I near, I roll down the window again and shout at her. “Get in the damn car. Now.”

  She doesn’t argue this time and runs to the passenger side. HB gives her a bark in greeting when she climbs in, soaking my leather seats. The door slams shut and she chances one of her shy stares my way.

  Those sneak peeks used to be my undoing.

  The way her eyes would flicker with a mixture of fear and intrigue.

  “Why are you walking? Do you always walk?” I demand.

  She shivers from the cold and my happy-ass dog starts licking the side of her face as if to help her dry off. Her giggles only encourage him. For me, it reminds me of a time when she was one of the queens at our school. Not a worry in the goddamned world.

  I whistle. “Hello? I asked a question.”

  “Uh, no, my car wouldn’t start.”

  Last I remember, she drove a fucking sports car that mommy bought her. “Hmph. Where is it?”

  “Back at the diner.”

  I pull a U-turn in the middle of the road and head back to the diner. Neither of us speaks on the way there. I’m thankful to have my dog here as a distraction. Courtney is all too happy to gush all over HB rather than face the brother of the girl she tormented.

  “There,” she says, pointing to a piece of shit Toyota that’s older than me.

  “I’m surprised it lasted this long,” I grumble as I pull up beside it. “Give me the keys.”

  She fumbles in her purse and hands them over to me. Her fingers are ice-cold against mine. I have the urge to warm them up but then remember I fucking hate her. She can freeze.

  I leave her in the car and assess the vehicle as I get drenched from the storm. After popping the hood and testing out a few things in the pouring rain, I realize her engine is busted. With a huff, I slam the hood and trot back to my car. Once inside, I glare at her.

  “What did you do?”

  “Me? Nothing!”

  “The engine’s blown. When was the last time you changed the oil?” I demand, my jaw clenching.

  “I, uh,” she stutters out. “I was saving up for it.”

  My lip curls up as I regard the stupid woman. “You don’t just get your oil changed when you can afford it!”

  Her nose turns pink and she purses her lips. I can tell she desperately wants to say something but holds back.

  “Out with it, sheep.”

  “If you hadn’t sued my family for every penny to our name, maybe I’d have the money!” she accuses, the fire back in her eyes.

  I curse through clenched teeth and HB whimpers from the backseat. “It still can’t bring her back.”

  “No,” she snaps, clutching her purse to her chest. “It still can’t bring her back. Nothing can.” She wrenches the door open and takes off running through the rain.

  Fuck.

  “Stay here,” I order my dog before launching myself out of the vehicle.

  I stalk after her through the rain until she’s cornered between the building and a dumpster. Gripping her by her dainty neck, I push her back against the brick and snarl in her face. “Why are you running?”

  A choked sob escapes her. “I’d do anything—pay anything to bring her back.” Her glittery blue eyes leak tears, but she means every word. And that fucks with my head.

  “Too late.” I seethe, my grip on her throat tightening. “Too fucking late.”

  She grips my wrist and her cold touch electrifies me. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  It takes everything in me to release her neck. My thumb has a mind of its own and I run the pad over her plump bottom lip, dragging the flesh with it. It’s something I always wanted to do—before all that happened with Raven. I wanted to touch her pouty mouth. Her lip is softer than I could have imagined.

  “I’ll send a wrecker. I can repair it,” I utter as I release her completely. “My shop is the one on the corner of Main and Hudson.”

  Her nose scrunches as she frowns. She shouldn’t be so fucking hot. Soaked and pitiful and fucking sad. And she’s still beautiful. God, I hate her. “I can’t afford it.”

  “Then you can work it off. When you’re not working shifts at the diner, you can help me at the shop.” I don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now. This seems like a really stupid idea and yet I’m plugging along.

  “I don’t know how to fix car stuff,” she whispers, her bottom lip still wobbling.

  “I’m sure we can find other ways to pay off your debt.” I make a show of grabbing my dick through my jeans. “I’ve seen the pictures. I know your skinny ass knows how to service a dick. Although, I may be a little younger than you’re used to.”

  Her eyes widen as realization sinks in. I almost threw the fuck up when I’d seen the pictures of her fucking some old man on Raven’s phone. “I am not some whore!” she screeches. “Screw you!”

  I laugh as I regard her with disgust. “Not me, sheep. My shop buddies. What do you think? A lunch time blow job something you can handle?” Of course I’m fucking with her, but she doesn’t have to know that. “I bet those lips are really good at sucking cock—”

  My words get tossed right out of my mouth when she slaps me. For a moment, we simply stare at one another in the pouring rain, our chests heaving. The fire is blazing uncontrollably in her eyes. I didn’t know anything lived inside the walking dead girl.

  “I’m sure I can find something legitimate for you to do, sheep. Just show up. We’ll negotiate later.”

  The door to the restaurant creaks open and Keith, my sister’s old boss, steps out. He takes one look at the two of us and storms my way, a vicious glare on his face. I simply hold my hands up and walk backward away from them, splashing through puddles.

  The prospect of having her in the shop should make me murderous with rage. Instead, my little black heart thumps with fucking glee. I feel like a little revenge is in order.

  But I’ll be damned if the image of her sucking on my cock doesn’t root itself deep inside my mind.

  Goddamned Courtney Moss.

  Once again, this bitch is mindfucking me.

  Courtney

  “Are you sure?” Mom asks from the driver’s seat. “I don’t feel right about dropping you off here.”

  I smile at her. When I told her I was going to work off getting my engine repaired, she’d been horrified. Even offered to pay, despite knowing she doesn’t have the money to. I refuse to let her run up another credit card to help me.

  “It’s fine,” I assure her with a fake smile, a smile she’s learned to accept as real. “I know the guy I’ll be working with. We went to school together.”

  If she knew it was the same guy whose family sued us, she’d have a coronary.

  “Well, you call me if you want to leave.”

  I lean over and kiss her cheek before climbing out. I wasn’t sure what I’d be doing at this mechanic shop, but I dressed appropriately just in case. I’ve got on a pair of ratty cutoff shorts and a black tank top. If grease gets on them, it’ll be fine.

  With a quick wave to my mom, I hurry inside. My knee still hurts from my fall the other day, but at least my limp isn’t as noticeable now. Nobody sits at the front counter. Behind the counter is a wall of glass. Several cars sit in the bays and I can see men working on them. My car is in the third stall. Rome is hunched over, his back and shoulder muscles flexing under his uniform shirt as he does something under the hood. I’m not sure when he filled out—maybe he was always that way. He’s not built at all like Raven. She was tall, slender, and willowy. Sweet and pure.

  Rome is lean but muscular.

  Tattooed and flawed.

  An animal barely caged.

  I’m staring at his sculpted back when someone pushes inside the storefront from the shop. “Can I help—oh, it’s you.”
>
  I recognize the man from the diner. The name patch on his shirt says Jamal. Same guy who slapped my ass. Irritation blossoms inside me. I’m not sure if I can work for this guy.

  “Is Rome available?”

  “He’s busy,” he grunts. “What do you want?”

  “I’m supposed to help him.”

  “I think you’ve done enough, sweetheart.”

  The door opens behind him and Rome steps in. He has a smudge of grease on his forehead and he’s sweaty. But, damn, he’s gorgeous. I take a moment to stare at him. His face reminds me so much of Raven’s. Sharp cheekbones and pale skin. A few freckles. Dark brows that always seem to be scowling. Raven may have smiled for everyone else, but she sure made a lot of expressions that remind me of Rome. Expressions she only shared with me.

  My stomach hollows out.

  Focus.

  “Do you know how to count?” Rome snaps. “Did they teach you that in cheerleading school or did you get out of that class by blowing one of the teachers?”

  I suck in a surprised breath. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me—”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking coming here.” I huff and turn on my heel. I’m almost to the door when a strong hand grips my elbow. I jerk my head over my shoulder to find Rome glaring down at me. His fingers bite into my flesh, causing me to yelp.

  “I need your help and you need mine. Come on.” He releases my arm and stalks away. Stupid me, I follow. When I pass Jamal, he checks my breasts out and licks his lips. Ugh, I hate that guy.

  “Breakroom. Office. Shop,” Rome barks words out as he winds me through the building. “Supply room.” He pushes the door open and turns on the light. Inside are row after row of floor-to-ceiling shelves full of buckets holding car parts.

  “I don’t know how to fix car stuff,” I remind him.

  He rolls his eyes at me as he grabs one of the buckets. Once he sets it down on a table, he pulls out some metal thing and holds it up. “Carburetor.” He sets it down and pulls a sheet of paper from a desk drawer. “Inventory sheet. Match up serial numbers from the parts to this spreadsheet. Tally them up. Record them.”