Chapter Seven
Katriona, six months later
I’ve lost everything. The truth hits me at this time every night.
The familiar jingle of the evening news drowns out the sizzle of fries being lowered into days’-old oil and a group of rowdy teens out for a late Friday night meal. Like every other night, I let the smell drag me away to a time where I enjoyed a fast-food meal with my best friend.
Girl nights with Nikki seems like a lifetime ago.
They seem like nothing more than a dream. Sylan. Drake. Grey. I push past the lump of pain clogging my throat. I’ve scoured all the obituaries and listened to the news for any hints of the infamous Grey Hudson’s demise but came up empty-handed. Then again, it’s not like they would announce about him taking a bullet for me.
Now I just numbly make my way through my shifts.
The rowdy teens grab a booth in the back far corner where they think no one sees them lighting up a cigarette. It’s about the biggest excitement this place will see until three in the morning when the less-than-upstanding citizens of this Podunk town stop in for a heavy dose of coffee and our famous cherry pie off at mile marker number 132. It’s the only claim to fame this crappy small-time diner at the corner of forgotten and nowhere has going for it.
Honestly, I don’t pay too much attention to who I serve. I keep my eyes on the tips that help me cover rent, and I don’t mind working graveyard and serving men with massive leather coats big enough to cover a small arsenal and enough bad hoodoo vibes to send anyone with a lesser constitution scurrying out the door.
Thanks to my father, the few thousand dollars I had saved up from working at Club Lex are sitting in a bank account I can’t touch. I do, and I might as well put out a billboard ad for my location.
So here I am. Working longer hours for less pay hoping to survive long enough to make a few hundred bucks more before I move to the next no-name town.
I’ve been working at Sally’s diner for five months now. She’s the only one who took a chance on a nobody girl with no home or ID.
So I clock in when she needs me and serve pie and the house special to anyone willing to walk through those doors. It’s that simple.
But on nights like tonight, I can’t help but think about them. Wonder whatever happened to Grey. A ping of regret stabs at my heart but I rub at the pain until it goes away. It’s all I can do.
He, Drake, and Sylan all stirred up unwanted emotions inside me. And when the darkest of night comes, their faces drift through my dreams. But when morning comes, I find I’m still alone. Cold. With no place in this world. No one to call.
It’s just the way it is.
I’ve worked a double shift for the past five days and my throbbing, aching feet are letting me know I’ve reached my limit, but I shove down the pain and push on. I can’t afford not to. I grit my teeth past the stabbing pain in my heels and screaming calves and shove aside the fact I’m three days late on rent again. This time I might not have a home to return to even if I do manage to make the last four dollars in tips I need.
I rub at the spot between my brows, trying to ward off a coming headache with not much luck. God, what I’d do for a solid straight eight hours of sleep, but I would have better luck spotting a freaking unicorn running down Main Street right now.
“Kat, you’re up.”
The cook bellows my name through the small portal window where they place the trays for me to deliver, and I push off the wall I’ve been leaning against for the past few minutes watching the news. I take the plates and deliver them, welcoming another diner pushing through the door and grabbing the closest booth. “What can I get you tonight?”
He says something, but I don’t hear his reply. My mind is too busy trying to catch up with what I hear coming from the TV.
With my mouth wide open, I stare across the half-empty tables and booths as the news anchor’s familiar face cuts to a picture of a man in a black suit with a familiar set of whiskey-colored eyes.
“Son of a bitch. You finally went too far.” I can’t believe it.
“Excuse me?” the newcomer gruffs but quickly follows my line of sight and shuts up.
I wave him off and we both watch as my father’s face is plastered across the evening news.
I might have told him to screw off all those months ago like some cold bitch, but my very human heart lurches to the floor by my feet among the crumbs and crumpled napkins.
Someone cranks the volume up a few notches.
“In a shocking twist this evening, known head of an organized crime family William Kane has been found shot to death in his home. Officials have ruled out suicide and are currently investigating what they believe is murder. Once thought untouchable, Kane has reportedly been in talks with the FBI. No further information is known. Maybe in death the truth about his dealings and true ties to crime will finally come to light. He's survived by one daughter. Her whereabouts are still unknown by authorities.… In other news—”
Dead.
Chills run through me.