CHAPTER 4

       Shaw

      I counted the pile of money in front of me for the fifth time. I was having a hard time concentrating for a few reasons: first, the bar had gotten busy so I had stayed two hours past my shift and I was dragging; second, there were ten other girls all trying to cash out and the chatter was like a swarm of bees buzzing about purses and boys; third, Ayden kept watching me like a hawk, looking for something, but I didn’t know what; and finally, Loren Decker, my post-high-school Amy Rodgers, wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about Rule.

      Loren was a living, breathing centerfold and was what happened when mean girls left high school and entered the real world. She was vapid, boring, and made more money than most of us combined when she was on the schedule because her job was to be flirty and come across as easy—things that were hardly a stretch for her. For some reason she was dying to get every single detail I possessed about Rule. She wanted to know how I knew him, how come he had never been in the bar before, how old he was, what he did for a living, if we were dating, if he had a girlfriend, if he liked blondes, and so on and so forth. It was endless, exhausting, and I think it bothered me that yet another bimbo was just tripping over herself to fall on him. Although I knew my feelings for Rule were my burden to bear alone, I wasn’t about to offer up my slutty coworker on a platter. So I just kept grunting responses and evading all the personal questions, which unfortunately didn’t stop her from rambling about how good-looking he was.

      “I mean I don’t normally go for guys with all those tattoos and piercings like that, but oh my God, those eyes! Have you ever seen anything like them? They’re like minty toothpaste or something, so pretty! And his body, I bet he works out. I mean, I normally like a guy with a six-pack, but that tall, lean thing totally works with his look. What kind of girls does he normally go for? Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Seriously, Shaw, I just want to lick that hoop he has on the side of his lip, like, so freaking bad. I can’t believe you’ve been friends with someone that sexy and haven’t gotten a piece. That’s, like, against nature.”

      I hadn’t gotten a piece of anyone, ever, not that she needed to know that. Guys had tried and I had been tempted, but every time I was close to sealing the deal my brain short-circuited and reminded me that they weren’t who I really wanted and I shut down like a light going off. I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes.

      “Lore, I’m trying to do my cash-out, can this wait?”

      “Just give me his number,” she insisted.

      I was close to losing it and ready to shove the pile of ones down her throat. Ayden must have sensed the storm brewing, because she settled in the seat next to me and leveled a dark look at the blonde. There was just something about Ayden that made people pay attention to her; whatever it was, I loved her for it.

      “Lore, give the girl a break. It’s not like they’re besties. If you wanted to ask him out you should’ve done it while he was here.”

      She made a face that probably made guys buy her things, but made me want to roll my eyes. “I would’ve but he was too busy checking out Shaw’s ass—that’s why I asked what was going on between them. I mean, he didn’t even give you a hug or anything when he left, but you looked at each other like you were about to start making out any second.”

      Startled, I looked up at Ayden. Since when did Rule, who normally ignored me or pretended I didn’t exist, start checking anything on me out? She lifted her eyebrow.

      “If Shaw runs into him anytime in the near future I’m sure she’ll pass it along that you want his number or she can just give him yours if he’s interested. Now, let’s talk about something really important: What do you want to do for your birthday? It’s only two weeks away.”

      I groaned and gave up on trying to get an accurate count. Instead I just handed the money to Ayden and started sorting and stapling the credit card slips, which took far less brainpower. I hated my birthday. Normally, it was a fight between which parent and stepparent I was going to spend an awkward dinner with—when they bothered to remember, that is. Last year I just got a card from Dad with a check for a grand in it and a call from my mother with a promise of something when she found time—there was never time. Ayden had ended up taking me for sushi and to see some stupid romantic comedy, and the day passed, lackluster and unremarkable. Even the Archers tended to be low-key on my birthday. I think it reminded them that another year had passed and that Remy was still gone. Rome always sent me something from whatever part of the world he was in and, to date, his were always my favorite gifts. I guess since I was turning twenty this year I should try to make a big deal about it; I just didn’t want to.

      “Why don’t we go dancing?” Loren suggested, and I looked at her like she had grown a third head. I didn’t really socialize with the girls from work, but not because I didn’t like them. Some of them were really sweet, and most of them were just like me and Ayden—struggling to pay bills and balance college, but they were usually also into drinking, partying, meeting guys, going out, and doing all the things that just didn’t register for me. Granted, I needed the actual income far less, but it gave me peace of mind every time either of my parents tried to use the fact they paid the bills for me as leverage to get me to do something they wanted. I didn’t need any more people