Page 6 of Betting Blind
They’re silent for a moment before Derrick steps over to Jack, and their voices drop to a quiet hush. They toss glances at me every so often, and I turn back to the road, letting the humid evening breeze tug at my locks as I listen to faraway road noise.
Derrick is easily the friendliest of the two, with Jack the more headstrong, calculating one—much like me and Jules. Where Derrick is tan-skinned, Jack’s skin is fair like an Irishman’s, and his facial hair, as well as the hair on his head, is a deep, rich black, complimenting the blue of his eyes. It’s hard to know if they are friends—as I had assumed—or brothers.
Finally, Derrick nods, walking past me to return to their truck and mumbling something about being late for a show. I follow his retreat with a turn of my head as the deep caress of Jack’s voice in my ear makes me jump.
“Oh, what the shit!” Clutching my hand to my chest, I feel the thundering of my heart against my palm and widen my eyes at the small smile toying with his lips.
He repeats the statement that spooked me the first time. “I have a proposition for you.”
There’s not enough space between us and I’m flushed—a reaction purely because he scared me, not because his chest was rubbing up against my arm.
My words stumble from my mouth. “W-whatever it is, I’m not interested.”
I open the passenger door to check my phone for any missed calls or messages from Deborah. It’s close to eight thirty, and I know they’re probably worried that something may have happened to me.
The loose gravel crunches under his boots with each careful step he takes toward me. “Is it safe to assume you need some help?” he asks, implying what I’m sure is an offer of money.
He’s so close to me that the tips of our shoes touch, and I tilt my chin up defiantly, struggling to hide my emotions. I rub the back of my neck as his lips form a frown.
“That’s very kind of you, sir—”
“Jack,” he says firmly.
“—but I can’t take your money,” I continue as if he said nothing at all. “Though, I genuinely appreciate your offer.” I reach my hand out to shake his, giving him an olive branch. I’ve got to move this along so I can figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of here.
He pauses for a moment, taking his time scanning me with those piercing eyes before gently batting my hand away. “It’s your lucky day…”
“Cassidy,” I finish for him.
“I happen to be in a position to offer you a job, Cassidy. Weekends only for a few weeks. That should get you enough tips to take care of this, plus whatever cash you may have saved up.”
For the second time tonight, my jaw drops open. “At The Pound? You’re crazy.”
A lone car passes us as I step around him and back to the spot where I left the lug nuts. Once I gather the pieces in my hand, I stand and release the air from my lungs in a tired huff. My muscles ache with fatigue, and soreness creeps up the sides of my neck from hours of bending over. “No offense, but that bar isn’t exactly the picture of a good time. How can you stand the place?” I laugh lightly.
A beat of silence stretches between us, causing my skin to itch.
“Because I’m the owner,” he says flatly.
My face scrunches together in a tight cringe. Is that why he dresses nicer than the rest of his employees? Of course he’s the owner and here I am, calling his business a dump. I drag my bottom lip through my teeth, struggling to find those nonexistent manners of mine. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sure underneath the… rustic interior, it’s a real winner. I’m just not sure I’m the right fit for the job.”
“You’re absolutely not.” He laughs, and the sound is harsh. “Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous. The offer expires tomorrow evening.” He shoulders past me to leave, and my feet become stubbornly glued to the ground. I’ve offended him, that much is obvious, and damn me for feeling guilty.
There’s no way I will make enough cash at the diner in a short enough time to get this headache fixed. I can’t rely on Jules to take me to work forever, but I don’t fit the character aesthetic of that bar, either. They’ll chew me up and spit me out, and I shudder at the thought of being body slammed onto a pool table.
Eventually, I find some momentum to get my legs moving. “Wait!” I shout from behind him and place my hand on his arm to stop him once I catch up. “Can I think about it? I need to talk to my boss at the very least.”
Turning his eyes to my hand wrapped gently around his bicep, he relents, “Next Friday. Eight o’clock.”
I nod and remove my hand from his arm.
Dammit, Cassidy. What are you getting yourself into?
He steps up into the truck, and I turn back to see my car still halfway jacked up off the ground.
“You could have at least called for a tow!” I holler before he has a chance to close the door. For a moment I’m unsure if he’ll answer me, and I’m surprised when I hear his deep voice carry over to me.
“You’re a big girl, remember?” With a smirk, he shuts the door, and I follow the taillights of their vehicle as it careens off the side of the road. The engine rumbles, carrying them away, and I rub a hand down my face, cursing my stupid prayer for excitement.
