Chapter 4

four

LOLA

It didn't take long for the whispers to start. Lola Stevens. The girl who had screwed over Hendrix Hunt.

I knew Jessica had spread that rumor like shit on a field. As if I needed any more reason to hate that bitch. She brought out the absolute worst in me, some vicious little demon who bayed for her blood.

The teacher had just finished going over our math homework when the lunch bell rang. Students shoved out of their desks, fighting to get through the narrow doorway while I sat back. If class was bad, then the cafeteria politics were going to be a nightmare.

After the bang of locker doors calmed down, I pushed out of my seat and went to meet Kyle in the hall.

"How was Weaver's class?" he asked as we rounded a corner, dodging a guy giving a freshman a nuggie.

"Well, he hasn't gotten any more interesting in two years." But Hendrix wasn't in there so that was a bonus.

A group of girls passed by us, their catty glares fixed on me.

Girls had always sucked up to Hendrix and the guys, hoping one of the school's token bad boys would give them something beyond a quick fuck in the bathroom. Before I'd left, Hendrix wouldn't even give their thirsty asses a second glance. Now though… now I was going to have to deal with it.

The noise from the lunchroom burst into the hallway just before the puff of Kyle's inhaler sounded. I glanced over my shoulder.

Kyle had stopped a few feet outside of the doorway. "Oh, God…" He frantically dug both hands into his jean pockets, face blanching when he turned them inside out. "I don't have my money."

"We get free lunch, Kyle." Like half the impoverished kids here.

"No." He shook his head so fast his glasses nearly fell off. "My donation."

A group of guys shouldered past while Kyle stood there, staring through the doorway like it was a bottomless abyss filled with venomous snakes.

"Donation for what?" There was no charity in Dayton. We were the charity cases.

"Hendrix's goodwill."

My entire face dropped. He was not serious.

I glanced inside the crowded cafeteria and spotted a group of students clustered around the table where Zepp, Hendrix, Wolf, Bellamy, and I always used to sit. "What do you mean, his goodwill ?"

"Goodwill not to beat your butt. Ten bucks keeps you relatively safe for the semester. From them and everyone else." He wiped the sweat beading on his brow, searching his pockets again.

Unbelievable. Hendrix had always been a bit of dick—even being in love with him, I saw that. I guess I just didn't care because it had never been aimed at me.

I grabbed Kyle's hand and dragged him into the cafeteria. "You are not giving him money, Kyle." Over my dead body, would I let Hendrix take advantage of Kyle's fear.

We slowly moved through the lunch line. I picked up a sandwich, trying to ignore the abhorrent charade going on in the corner as I stopped at the register.

Kyle took his tray of double french fries and headed to the geek table where he'd always sat, his shoulders stooped as though trying to make himself smaller. I followed Kyle to the empty table. Empty because all of his friends were waiting to give Hendrix money.

The poverty-stricken hustler in me was a little impressed that he and Wolf were making such easy money, but I was equally disgusted.

I'd almost finished eating by the time Kyle's friends finally filtered over. Robert, a kid with a shock of red hair, sat down his tray, glancing anxiously at Kyle. "Aren't you going to pay your donation, Kyle?"

I glared at Robert. "No, he is not."

They all looked at me wide-eyed like I was the non-believer sitting in some cult church or something, and the devil was about to strike me down. "But. If he doesn't pay it—"

"Then they won't do shit!" At least not to Kyle. I wouldn't let them.

"Tommy Beavers didn't pay last year, and he ended up with a double ear infection from the number of swirlies he got."

"You know what…." I pushed to my feet, rage throbbing through me with every angry step I took across the lunchroom.

I shoved through the throng of people huddled around Hendrix and Wolf before slamming my palms down on the table that separated me from the two of them.

Hendrix's cold gaze met mine. A devastating smirk played over his lips. Grinning, Wolf held out an open palm. "Ante up, Voldemort."

"As if I would ever give you two money."

They both cackled, and all it did was enrage me more.

"Threatening people for money—that's a whole new low. Even for you, Hendrix." I'd never felt genuine disappointment toward him until then. Was this what he had become in the last two years?

A cocky grin spread across Hendrix's face, catching his dimples. "So, what I'm hearing her say, Wolf, is that she doesn't want to make a donation at this time?"

On a deep laugh, Wolf crammed a handful of fries into his mouth. "I think she should have to pay double."

Hendrix laughed again, and a momentary flash of red blinded me before I forced it down.

"What are you going to do, Hendrix? Hurt me?" I leaned farther over the table, and I didn't miss the way his gaze dropped to the loose collar of my T-shirt. "The sheep might fall in line, but Kyle isn't paying your stupid donation. And you're going to stay away from him."

His attention lifted to my face, something feral flickering in his eyes, before I spun around and headed back to my table.

"Don't put your feet on my rug, Lola Stevens!" His voice rose above the hum of conversation and clatter of trays.

I flipped him off over my shoulder. I'd put my feet all over his stupid rug if he came after Kyle.

The rest of the day was absolute crap.

A fight broke out in the hallway after fourth period, and the blood from the kid's busted nose spattered my shoe. Of course, the restroom had no toilet paper, and when I asked a random girl if she had any tissue, she backed away from me like I had the plague. Hendrix had already worked his magic, it seemed. God knew, by then, he'd probably threatened to kill half the school if anyone talked to me.

The dismissal bell rang, and I pushed my way through the packed hallways, eager to escape this fresh hell and its crowned dickhead king. As soon as I stepped out into the hot sun, my focus strayed across the tops of the cars to Hendrix leaning against the side of Wolf's truck. Like he had some kind of evil, magnetic pull over me.

A beat of longing thumped in my chest, and I forced myself to turn around just as Kyle squeezed through the students pouring out the exit.

"Sorry I took so long." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I got shoved into a locker."

"By who?"

"One of the football players. They come after anyone not on Hendrix's safety list."

Rage ignited within me. I didn't give a shit about Hendrix's stupid list. "Who was it?"

Kyle shook his head and started across the parking lot.

"I'm serious, Kyle. Tell me."

"Just leave it, Lola. Please?"

Damn him. He was not paying that fee, and I was not letting people bully him. The second I found out, that football player would be retrieving his balls from the back of his throat. I wondered if he'd be hopping to pay Hendrix for protection from me?

I intentionally ignored my ex-boyfriend when we passed by Wolf's truck and got into Kyle's car. The engine cranked, warm air shooting out of the vents. "Hendrix looks at you like that guy out of American Psycho ."

Sure enough, Hendrix glared at me from the other side of the lot as we backed out. "He's probably plotting all the ways to make me pay for what I did."

"And I helped you, so he's going to kill me, too!"

"He's not going to kill you…"

Kyle followed the line of cars zooming toward the exit, the engine sputtering when he turned onto the road. I grabbed my plaid work shirt from my backpack. The gross smell of smoked meats lifted from the material.

"Can I use your washer when I get off?" I yanked my T-shirt over my head, and Kyle nearly swerved off the road. You'd think he'd never seen a bra before.

"Oh, God." He gripped the steering wheel tightly, hunkering over it as he stared straight through the windshield. "If he finds out you're staying with me, he's going to take a poo on my porch before murdering me in cold blood."

"No, he won't."

Hendrix's wrath was nothing if not infamous, and when he lost it, he wasn't rational. I could handle Hendrix, though.

I fastened the last button on my shirt, then shoved my hand into my pocket in search of my hair tie. Instead of pulling it out, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Kyle maneuvered through after-school traffic, rambling about all the ways Hendrix would kill him while I stared at the number I'd forgotten I grabbed from the Bullseye bulletin board last night.

"Again, he's not going to kill you. He's crazy, but he's not a murderer." I took my phone from my backpack and typed out a text.

Me: Hey. I'm inquiring about the room you have for rent.

No doubt it was another crackhouse or some pervy dude—just like every other room I'd looked at. It was Dayton. There weren't many options.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: What do you want to know?

Me: Are you a guy?

Who I would be living with was the only thing that really mattered. The room itself didn't mean much if the person was a pervy asshole.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I'm a MAN.

Me: Are you a creeper?

Dots danced over the screen, then stopped, then started again. Of course, if he really was a creeper, he wouldn't tell me. I fiddled with the radio while I waited, looking for the one good station that didn't have static.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: WTF kind of question is that?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Are YOU a guy or a girl?

Me: I'm a WOMAN. You didn't say you weren't a creeper…

UNKNOWN NUMBER: A creeper is as a creeper does…

Definitely a weirdo. But beggars couldn't be choosers… I'd

take a weirdo if they weren't a pervert.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You can come to see the place and decide if I'm a creeper for yourself. But you can't be putting girly shit all over my house. Girly shit stays in your room.

I didn't possess any "shit," let alone of the girl variety. But all I could see now was some beer-can-filled bachelor pad. As long as there weren't hidden cameras, I didn't give a crap.

Me: Fine. What time?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Tomorrow at 5?

Me: Yep. What's the address?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: 1129 Victory Lane.

Oh, hell no. I dropped my phone. It bounced off the seat into the footwell as Kyle downshifted gears, the car nearly stalling out.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just texted to check on a room for rent. It's Hendrix." I should have known, should have damn well known. Creeper is as a creeper does … That had Hendrix written all over it. How in the hell, of all the people, had I managed to message Hendrix Hunt? I was starting to think he was the ghost of Christmas Past haunting me for my sins. God, I was cursed.

I wouldn't give my ex the satisfaction of turning up just so he could reject me. I'd rather live with my cracked-out whore of a mother.

"You aren't going to live with him, are you?" Kyle glanced over as he brought the car to a sputtering stop at a red light. "I can't come to visit you over there." Was he crazy?

"Hell no, I'm not living with Hendrix."

A horn blared beside us seconds before a red slushie splattered the windshield, making both Kyle and I jump. "What the…"

Wolf's beat-up truck sat in the lane beside us. My attention drifted to the back seat, and I rolled my eyes. Hendrix's bare ass was pressed to the back passenger window, his balls like roadkill against the glass. Yep, Hendrix Hunt and his sagging summer nuts were haunting me for sure. What was he, Beetlejuice? Speak his name, and he shall appear…

"He really shouldn't be so proud of his asshole…." Glaring, I pressed my middle finger to the glass as Wolf laughed.

The puff of Kyle's inhaler sounded beside me. "What if they run us off the road?"

The light turned green, and the tiny four-cylinder screamed as we shot off. Of course, Wolf changed lanes, tailing us.

"They are not going to run you off the road. They're just being assholes."

He put his emergency flashers on and pressed back in his seat. "You poked the honey hive going over to their table today, and now the bear is after us."

"Stop being so dramatic." I grabbed his inhaler from his lap and shoved it in his face. "Puff on that and calm down."

After a couple of miles, Wolf's truck slowed and took a hard turn into one of the gas stations.

Kyle visibly relaxed with a relieved sigh. "I'm paying him tomorrow."

"You are not."

The dead, brown lawns suddenly became green and perfectly trimmed when we crossed the invisible border into Barrington. Everything here looked brighter, shinier, more alive. And not an asshole or saggy ball in sight.

Kyle dropped me off at work and pulled away.

The thick scent of smoked hickory and the twang of country music wafted through the doors when I stepped into The Squealing Hog. That smell made me nauseous. Probably because it reminded me of the Barrington assholes who ate here.

I shouldered through people waiting to be seated, and my gaze landed on a little girl at the hostess stand. Blond ringlets fell down the back of her pink princess dress. I did a double take as she dug through the peppermint jar. She looked just like my little sister. I hadn't seen Gracie for over a month, and I surmised it was just my heart being wishful, right until she turned around.

"Sissa!" Smiling, she tossed a handful of candy back into the jar and rushed over to me.

I dropped to a crouch and caught her, tightening my hold when she threw her arms around my neck. "Jellybean." I knew she'd be ripped away from me at any moment. I wasn't supposed to see her outside of authorized visitation, and between my leaving the system and Gracie being moved, I hadn't been able to get it approved yet.

I tried to dislodge the lump in my throat as I cupped her innocent face. "I like your dress."

Beaming, she lifted the pink skirt and swished it back and forth. "Miss Emma got it for me."

"Miss Emma?"

Nodding, Gracie pointed at the woman lingering a few feet away. Her pressed dress and salon-fresh bob screamed of money—Barrington money.

"Gracie, sweetheart," she said as she stepped forward. "We've got to go so we aren't late for the dentist." She knelt down, tucking one of Gracie's ringlets behind her ear as her gaze lifted to me. "Who's your friend?"

"My sister."

I waited for her judgment, for her to pull Gracie away from the diseased Dayton trash, but instead, she smiled. "Lola? Gracie talks about you all the time. It's so lovely to meet you." She held out her hand. "I'm Emma Lancaster. Gracie's new foster mom."

I took her hand, wanting to hate her. She had my little sister, and I didn't. But Gracie looked so happy in her princess dress. Mom never bought us anything like that… Mom never took us to a dentist, either.

A sympathetic expression fell over Emma's face. "I'm really sorry to rush, but we're running late."

I didn't want to let Gracie go. I knew I likely wouldn't see her anytime soon, but this was how it was for us. Pulled apart by an unfair system. "Bye, Jellybean." I stroked over her baby soft hair. "I love you."

Her lower lip wobbled. "Love you, too."

Emma took her hand, and I turned around, unable to watch her walk away. I hated my mom for doing this to us. Gracie deserved better.

After I pulled myself together, I went to the wait station and clocked in. There was no point in wallowing in things I couldn't change.

"She looks just like you." Chad, one of the other servers, stepped up beside me.

I'd never actually spoken to him, but I knew he was Barrington. That was enough.

"I should have known you're Gracie's sister."

How did he know anything about my sister? "What?"I spun to face him.

"Emma's my mom."

Of course. Same blond hair. Same blue eyes. And that made him Gracie's foster brother. I instantly resented him.

I grabbed a handful of napkins and shoved them into my apron. "And you're the guy she's living with." Instead of me.

He at least had the decency to look guilty about that. "I'm sorry, I know—"

"You don't know."

He couldn't possibly know what it was for me to raise my baby sister. To watch her being taken away and have no power to stop it. I'd lost her and Hendrix, everyone I loved, in one fell swoop. He didn't know.

I didn't want to discuss the shitshow that was my life with him. I just wanted to get my tips, get through my shift, and get out of this place. My phone buzzed in my apron pocket as I walked off, and I checked it.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Make it 6 tomorrow.

Ignoring it, I saved Hendrix's number on my phone as Satan. Because my life already felt like literal hell, and he was my own personal demon fanning the flames.