Chapter 5
Star
I’ve managed to make it through just over half my breakfast unscathed when Lacey slides into the booth across from me. She does it so suddenly I actually flinch when I see her sitting there. The girl is like a freaking magician. She’s just lucky that my fight-or-flight instincts didn’t take over. If they had, the coffee I was holding would have ended up all over her crisp white T-shirt before either of us could blink. I’d been hoping that her whole lecture on the evils of Ash had ended the other day, but by the look on her face, I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I glance down longingly at my breakfast plate, empty save for the three slices of overcooked bacon and the last slice of toast.
Damn, I think as she pins me with a look. So close.
“What the ever-loving hell is wrong with you, Star?” she says and I cringe. Her voice is so shrill, it’s like nails on a chalkboard.
Be cool, I tell myself. Chances are, she’s talking about my deal with Ash—which is probably all over town by now, considering just how avidly people had been watching us over the last day and a half—but there’s always a chance she could be referring to something else. And since I’m not about to start digging my own grave here, I just paste an innocent look on my face and kind of blink at her, like I’m confused.
I’m not confused.
“What do you mean?” I ask, and I suddenly find myself wishing that I’d bothered to take drama in high school, instead of avoiding it like the plague. Maybe then I’d be a more convincing liar. Well, not liar, exactly. Not yet, anyway.
Either way, she isn’t fooled. I watch, trying to keep a reaction off my face as Lacey lets out the most dramatic sigh ever made by a human being over the age of five and kind of flops down on the table between us, folding her arms over her head like she’s building herself a cocoon. Either she took drama, or this is just some kind of hold-over from when we were little. I’m having flashbacks of the second grade, of us playing in the sandbox together. I remember building lopsided sand castles, and then Lacey, with her tiny blond pigtails blowing in the breeze, acting as though the world were ending because I wouldn’t be a princess with her. Because every castle needed a princess apparently. In my defense, who the hell would want to be a princess when they could be a dragon instead? I know I wouldn’t. Second-grade Lacey hadn’t agreed with my logic back then, so, judging by what is happening in front of me as I calmly drain the last of my coffee, I’m not holding out a ton of hope she’ll be swayed by my argument now.
I’d just assumed she’d grown out of using hysterics to make her point—I was wrong.
I look around the diner, frantically. I’m going to need way more coffee for this discussion. The middle-aged blonde waitress from the other day is back, but when I try to flag her down as she passes by, she just glares down her nose at me and keeps walking.
Yep, I think. Word has definitely gotten around. That would explain the death glares she’s been giving me all morning. But then again, it wasn’t like she’d been super friendly to me before Ash and I met, either. Maybe she is just an angry person. Could be.
You’d better cool it with the looks, lady. I think as she walks past me. Your tip is rapidly dwindling down to nothing. I turn a little in my seat and shoot her a glare of my own as soon as I see her back is turned, smiling a little when she disappears into the kitchen, and I know I’ve gotten away with it. At this point, I’ll take any victory I can get, no matter how insignificant. I turn back to Lacey, and instantly regret it. She’s left the private sanctuary of her arm-cocoon and is gazing at me with huge, almost cartoon-like eyes, like I’ve betrayed her somehow.
I sigh and gaze down at my empty mug. I definitely need more coffee for this.
“Why, Star?” she asks, her voice cutting through the quiet din of the diner with way more force than necessary. I have to bite down on my own tongue to stop myself from telling her to keep it down. People are already turning to look. Great. Just what I need. More attention. “Why would you talk to him after what he did?”
I pick at the last of my bacon, which is yet another disappointment in itself. They make it way too crispy here. It’s almost charred. I shrug and pop a piece in my mouth, anyway, but I’ve timed it badly and I’m stuck trying to chew like crazy to get it down while the blonde waitress makes another round. I’m not being at all subtle in my attempts to flag her down, but with my mouth occupied all I can do is wave in her direction. Which I’m doing. I’ve got nearly my entire arm flapping about, but even though I know she can see me, she still doesn’t come over. Instead she just stares at my arm like it has now managed to offend her delicate sensibilities somehow, and turns on her heel and walks away.
Swallowing the last of my bacon, I sigh and slump down in my seat, defeated. I’m never going to get out of here. The service here is terrible, especially with the blonde in charge. I miss the waiter from last night, the one with the hipster jeans. He at least acknowledged my existence, even though he looked like he’d been ready to bolt like a frightened deer at a single movement from Ash.
The blonde waitress disappears into the kitchen yet again, taking the full carafe of coffee with her. And there goes the rest of your tip, I think and turn back to Lacey. I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her. Apparently ignoring her little outburst just made things worse. She’s managed to get herself so worked up now that there are actual tears shining in her eyes. Is this what I left behind when I went into foster care? Dealing with a spoiled brat? Child protective services outdid themselves, if that was the case. Because I’m pretty sure that if I had to grow up with her, one or both of us would be dead by now.
Lacey reaches out and grabs the hand I’d laid down on the table and pins me with a look, her fingers digging into mine. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that guy is?”
Ugh, I think. And that’s enough of that. I can’t help rolling my eyes this time, and I shake her hand off as gently as I can before leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest. “Look, Lacey,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully. Very carefully. I don’t want any further dramatics. I just don’t have the energy for them today. “No offense or anything, but really? Just stop. I have a million things to worry about right now, and Ash isn’t one of them. So thanks for the advice, but I’m good. And quite frankly, this is none of your business. This is between Ash and I.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off before she can get a word out. I’m done. I’m done with the looks and the tall tales and whatever else the people of Avenue want to dole out like candy on Halloween. I’m done.
“Seriously,” I say, my voice firm. “None of your business.”
We sit there in silence, kind of glaring at each other across the table. It’s like something out of one of those Old West movies, like we’re facing off at high noon, waiting to see who will blink first.
Luckily for both of us, today is my day, and Lacey’s the one that falters.
“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes and hauling herself out of her seat. “I need to get to work, anyway.” She’s already a few steps away from the table, having tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder in what I’d been hoping was a sign that our conversation was over, when she stops and whirls back around. “But just so you know,” she says, “when you wake up dead in a Dumpster somewhere, I’ll be expecting an apology. A good one.”