Crippling terror vaulted up the cavity of her body in a numbing lance when his hand dropped the lock of her hair to snake up the side of her thigh, dragging the worn hem of her waitress uniform up her leg in the process. Chills rushed over her in a torrent of hot and cold. She reflexively grabbed his wrist, but it slid effortlessly inward despite her using both hands against only one of his.
“No, please…”
The hand on her face tightened to the point of blinding pain. Her cry went ignored.
“I own you.”
The hand tucked between her legs to grind in painful nudges over the slip of cotton covering her mound. Her resistance had no effect on him. She was barely able to push him away and that amused him. It lit the dark glimmer of triumph shimmering across his eyes and radiated in the possessive grip of his fingers bruising her jaw. He pulled her in closer so their mouths were mere inches apart and she was forced to swallow every one of his foul exhales.
“Everything you have, everything you will have … mine, and there is nothing you can do about it, Juliette.”
The sickening truth rippled up the length of her to curdle in her chest. It warped around her heart and lungs until she was sure she would suffocate right there at his feet. But even death had abandoned her to his mercy.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, struggling not to fight, while simultaneously restraining his prodding fingers from pushing past the material of her panties. “I’ll get your money!” she promised over the loud boom of terror thundering between her ears. “I promise.”
“See that you do.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, dark and hungry. “And make sure this is the only time we have this conversation.”
He released her and Juliette staggered back in a fit of coughs. A sob worked up into her throat and curled into a tight ball that made her want to do the same across the dirt. Cold, clammy hands went to her face to rub the welts he’d left behind on her skin. The muggy, summer breeze slipped beneath her dress to lick tauntingly at the sweat dampening the material. A violent shudder claimed her.
“And to ensure that this never happens again,” he pivoted on his heels and meandered back to his car. “I want two months’ worth by tomorrow.”
“Two months?” Juliette’s disbelief came out in a choked gasp. “I can’t get six thousand dollars in a day.”
Pausing at the driver’s side door of his Bentley, Arlo turned. “That’s your problem, puta.” He yanked open his door. “Six thousand or your sister by five o’clock tomorrow.”
There was nothing to do but stand back and watch as the group disassembled and peeled off in a plume of dust and exhaust. Around her, the world seemed to roar back into focus with a vengeance. Sights and sounds slammed into her. Their normality paralyzed the breath she was desperately trying to suck in. Despite the heat, her skin prickled in pimples that itched beneath her uniform. Her stomach writhed, a pit of angry snakes struggling for dominance. Nausea pushed against her, threatening to take her under. But she couldn’t. She had work and she couldn’t go in smelling like vomit and sweat.
Knees wobbled as she staggered her way unsteadily to the Around the Bend diner. The squat little burger joint catered mainly to truckers, hookers and the occasional family passing through and was, literally, around the bend before an abrupt drop into the churning Anyox river. It sat off the main highway into the city and was the main stop for most people coming or going. But as tips went, it was questionable. The only ones who actually gave good ones were the truckers and only after spending an hour squeezing her ass. But it was a job and it paid some of her bills.
The afternoon rush had already begun when she stumbled through the door into a wall of palpable heat. Low chatter sweltered through the rancid stench of burnt fries, grease, and stale perfume. Someone had put a quarter into the jukebox and Dolly Parton crooned from the crackling speakers bolted into the two corners of the room. Overhead, the twin fans wobbled and creaked as they churned the sour air like dough beneath a blender head. Juliette always wondered when the two would just dislocate from the ceiling and kill somebody. It was only a matter of time.
“Juliette!” More hairspray than person, Charis Paxton slapped the rag in her hands down onto the counter and speared her tiny fists on voluminous hips. The plastic bangles circling twiggy arms clattered noisily. “You’re late!”
Automatically, Juliette’s gaze darted to the clock behind the auburn beehive adding about two feet to Charis’s four foot nothing stature.
“I’m sorry—”
One child-sized hand cut through the air, five slender fingers splayed in a clear warning to stop talking. She stood like an irate traffic guard at an intersection, but meaner. She burned Juliette with her squinty, blue eyes.
“This isn’t some charity place,” she bit out. “You’re not going to get paid for being lazy.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman that she had never been late a single day in two years and that it was only five minutes, but she knew that would only get her fired.
“Do you have any idea how many applications we get a day for your position?” Charis went on in her chirpy squeak. “We could have you replaced within the hour.”
It didn’t matter whether or not that was true. Juliette was in no position to test the theory. So she apologized again before ducking her head and hurrying behind the counter. Her worn sneakers squeaked against the grimy linoleum in her haste to get away from the shrewd woman watching her every movement. Charis didn’t stop her as Juliette disappeared into the back.
Larry, Charis’s husband and their fry cook, looked up from the grill he was scraping with a metal spatula. His pudgy face was flushed and shone with sweat that he wiped off on the hem of his filthy apron. His beady eyes watched Juliette as she darted into the miniature-sized staffroom tucked between the walk-in and the bathroom.
The kitchen was a small, cramped place that barely fit two people. Most of the space was claimed by the grill and deep fryer combo crammed into one corner. It was attached to a sheet of dented metal that ended under the takeout window. The walk-in took up the rest.
Around the Bend was the kind of place she felt like people needed to get a tetanus shot before stepping into, or the sort of place that killed its customers and served them in the burger mix. It was dingy and badly maintained. It made no sense to her why anyone would want to eat there. But people did and so long as they did, she continued to get a paycheck once a week. By no means was it enough to support her, her sister, and the tower of bills that just kept getting bigger each day, but it was something. The rest was made up from her two other jobs that she did throughout the week. Yet no matter how many jobs she worked or how many paychecks she pulled in, it was never enough. Between the mortgage, bills, Viola’s tuition, and Arlo, she barely saw a penny of it.
Things hadn’t always been bad. There had been a time when she had been a normal carefree teenager with a room full of all the crap girls wanted when their life was perfect. She’d had a mother and a father and an irritating baby sister. They had even had a tiny dog that slept on a velvet cushion on her window seat. Back then, she never had to worry about making ends meet. She never even knew where the money came from, only that they had it and she was popular and rich and the envy of everyone at her elite prep school.
Then her mother had died. No amount of money in the world could save her. The cancer had been too advanced. It had taken over her body seemingly overnight. She barely lasted a year. Juliette’s world had fractured the second her mother’s heart monitor had flat lined. Her perfectly manicured existence tumbled into dark chaos and no one stayed to hold her hand through it. Her perfect boyfriend had called her an emotionally unresponsive bitch and left her for her best friend. All the kids who had once begged for a second of her time were nowhere to be seen. Her father drowned himself in whiskey, quit his job, and squandered their money on horses. The checks to the school bounced. The bank began to call three times a day. The cupboards had more cobwebs than food and she had a nine year old sister who needed her. Abandoning her dreams of partying it up in college, Juliette had gotten a job, then two, then three. She worked her fingers to the bone and went home exhausted only to wake up an hour later and do it all over again. But that was her life and someone had to do it.