His laugh was mocking. “You do realize, candles or not, you’re still breathing that shit in, right?”
She wasn’t stupid, of course she knew. Her face heated again, but from anger this time. He had a way of insulting her without being blatantly rude. Telling him to fuck off was not an option. For all the different emotions coursing through her in the last hour, her fear was still at the forefront. Pissing him off would only end badly for her. She turned her gaze toward the kitchen not bothering to answer him. Asshole.
He walked around the living room peeking into the doorway at the far end. That was her old bedroom. When her mom left Sadie took her room, it was larger and close to the bathroom. She used her old room for storage, a place for all her books. He walked back to her but didn’t stop as he went through the doorway in the kitchen. It was a short hallway with the bathroom and her current bedroom at the end.
Sadie watched as he disappeared. She craned her neck to watch him but her feet stayed glued to where she stood. She was almost afraid to move. The idea of running out the door was fleeting. She’d never get away, he’d catch her.
She couldn’t see him. She assumed he was looking in her room. She tried to remember if she had picked up her clothes from the floor. She hoped she’d at least thrown her panties in the hamper. Footsteps got her attention at the kitchen doorway again.
He stalked toward her. She backed up near the wall in the dining area when he stopped two feet in front of her at the table.
“Your place is shit.” He sneered and shook his head. He lifted his chin toward her door. “One good shoulder check and any motherfucker can get in here.” He grunted and released a harsh sigh. “Christ, the fucking windows are completely shot, it’s like you’re begging to be fucking robbed. There’s no security on the property, it’s not fucking safe.” He gazed over her and shook his head. “Yet, here you are.”
While it shouldn’t, it stung. She’d worked hard for what she had. It wasn’t much, she knew that. But it was hers. Her home. Your home is a reflection of you. He said “your place is shit.” What she heard was “you are shit.” Sadie had just about enough of his insults. Why couldn’t he just leave? She straightened her back and drew up her shoulders. “Why do you even care, it’s none of your business how I live.” She hadn’t planned on saying much more but his stare had her clamping her lips closed.
He countered her with the same move and straightened to full height. Her gaze drifted up as the corner she was standing in grew smaller. His brows furrowed and she prepared herself for another insult.
“No, none of my business.” The ball of his throat bobbed. “And I don’t care.” He seemed to stammer on the last part which caught her off guard.
He grabbed her bag from the table and rifled through before pulling out a wad of bills. Great, now he was going to rob her, too. Could this night get any worse?
“This is all you got.” He laughed. “Thought you girls made good tips?” His mouth spread into a wide grin and his gaze travelled down to her breasts. “Or ya gotta pay extra for that?” She knew exactly what he was insinuating, and while she knew it happened, girls offering other services, she had never, would never ever do it. He was trying to be a bastard, and succeeding.
“No! I’m a waitress, not a whore! I had more but after Juan’s cut…” she mumbled, her anger growing.
“Who the fuck is Juan, and why are you giving him your money?” He growled. He was furious, and she wasn’t sure why.
It struck her as odd that he even cared why or who she gave her money to but she explained anyway. “Uh…Juan is uh…the busboy. You know, the one who clears the tables.”
Sadie stared into his eyes. He seemed to have gotten very irritated which was starting to scare her. Between gritted teeth he snarled, “I know what a fucking busboy is. Jesus Christ! Why are you giving the busboy your tips? That was the fucking question?”
Why was he getting so damn angry? Sadie tried to calm her accelerated heart and merely shrugged not wanting to aggravate him anymore than he already was. “I always give a portion of my tips to the busboys.” She averted her eyes away from his harsh stare. She lowered her voice. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah?” He snapped and she jerked back, watching him. “The other girls share their tips?” His tense jaw seemed to pronounce his scar. It wasn’t a blatant scar, must have happened years ago, she assumed. She sighed and shrunk deeper into her corner by the wall.
“I don’t know what they do. Look, the guys clear the tables, Juan always wipes down them too, even though it’s my job. So yeah, I share my tips. Why wouldn’t I, he earns the money just as much as I do.”
She could feel the weight of his stare. Looking away wasn’t any option. The corner of his mouth curled slightly and his eyes seemed to smolder. “Fucking nuts! You live like this...” He spread out his arms at her living room. “Probably paycheck to paycheck, in a place that is a fucking thug’s wet dream, you’re probably dying a slow fucking death by breathing in air that smells like ass, and you’re fucking giving your money away?” He ran his hand through his hair tugging at the ends. “What ya need to do is get a better fucking job, get the hell outta here and stop worrying about
