Wrong Side of Heaven Page 6

  It’s nothing that warrants concern, but the change in his tone is enough that I can tell he’d rather I kept my distance from his brother. I can’t though. He’s my boss, and he’s paying me under the table. If I don’t stay on Ace’s good side, I’ll lose this job and be right back where I started.

  “Because Ace is our boss, Jasper. So, his opinion kind of matters.”

  “Oh, right,” he says. “‘Don’t worry about my brother. He’ll just be glad I’m not in his office, bugging him. Now, tell me what you want to eat, so I can make it for you.”

  The tray full of food in my hands makes my mouth water. It’s been so long since I’ve had a burger and fries that I’d like to devour every bite on both plates. But, if I eat the food, I’ll have to pay for it, and that’s more money I’ll owe Jasper.

  My stomach growls, and I ignore it. “I’m not hungry,” I lie. “I had a big lunch.”

  If Jasper hears the rumble, he doesn’t say a word about it. But, as I walk away to deliver the food, I should know he wouldn’t let me off that easy.

  When I come back into the kitchen, he’s holding two plates in his hands, and we’re the only people going on break. As I follow him toward the back door, I start subtracting the cost of the food from my wages.

  I wish he had listened to me, but I say nothing about the food or how uncomfortable I am with sharing a meal with him. I’m so used to eating alone in my room that I don’t know what to say to him.

  My palms start to sweat again, and I can’t tell if it’s from the humid summer air or Jasper. We don’t have air-conditioning in the trailer because Tess says it costs too much money. She’s probably right, but I’d do anything to lay my head on the pillow and not wake up in a pool of my own sweat. And I’d rather be inside with goose bumps than outside with beads of sweat and strange nerves knocking my heart around my chest.

  Nothing good is ever permanent, I remind myself as I take my place at the picnic table on the opposite side from Jasper.

  He sets a plate in front of me, but I keep my hands in my lap. Maybe, if I don’t touch the food, I won’t owe him anything.

  “What? You don’t eat meat?” he questions. “From the way you were eyeing those burgers in the kitchen, I thought you wanted one. But I can get you something else.”

  I have nothing against meat. It’s too expensive at the grocery store though, and if Tess sees me trying to cook something in the kitchen, she’ll ask where I got the money to buy it, and then she’ll know I’m hiding money in my room. A home-cooked meal isn’t worth the risk.

  “Burgers are my favorite,” I tell him. “Fries, too.”

  When my mouth starts to water, I stop caring about the dollar signs and pick up the burger. The first bite I take, I almost laugh. I haven’t had anything but tuna and canned fruit in so long, I giggle when a little grease drips from the burger and onto my chin. I don’t remember the last time I needed a napkin to wipe my face while I was eating.

  Jasper’s staring at me again, and when I glance at him over the top of the bun in my hands, he smirks.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “No, nothing,” he says with an even bigger grin.

  “Why are you acting weird, Jasper? Haven’t you ever seen a girl eat a burger before?”

  He shoves a fry in his mouth and shakes his head. “You think I’m weird? I’m crushed.”

  “You know you’re a little bit strange.”

  “Why am I strange?” he asks.

  “You haven’t stopped staring at me since we got to work. And then you made food, and you’re watching me eat it. I think that speaks for itself.”

  Laughing, he tosses his napkin on the table and picks up another fry. I think he’s going to eat it, but he throws it at me instead, nailing me on the tip of my nose.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because that’s no way to talk on our first date.”

  His smile shows off his perfectly straight white teeth, and I imagine what Jasper must have looked like with braces. He licks his lips, and my eyes focus on the little grains of salt he’s brushing away. And then I realize what he just said.

  My eyes widen, and I swallow before I’ve completely chewed the bite of burger in my mouth. My mouth’s suddenly so dry, I cough as I force the food down my throat.

  Jasper starts to stand up, probably to perform the Heimlich maneuver, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

  And then, a second later, I manage to croak a very unattractive, “Sorry.”

  He settles at the table again, relieved he didn’t almost kill me with a compliment. “So, the thought of dating me makes you choke,” he says. “Good to know.”

  “You caught me off guard; that’s all. But this isn’t a date, Jasper. It can’t be.”

  “Why can’t it be a date? You’re a guy. I’m a girl.” When I laugh, he gives me another lopsided smile and says, “I meant that the other way around. Shit, you make me nervous, Winnie.”

  Even though he’s being sweeter than any guy has ever been to me, I still bite my lip because nobody has ever wanted to date me. Not for the right reasons anyway. I’ve always been taken advantage of—the girl so scared to speak, they don’t even care if I’m interested. And that has nothing to do with them being older than me. Age is just a number, and they’ve come in all different shapes, sizes, and numbers.

  But, in my head, I’ve said no to every single one of them. And I wish I believed that, if I yelled it loudly enough, they’d listen to me. Something tells me it wouldn’t matter. Nobody ever listens.

  “Just think about it before you shoot me down,” he says. “Can you do that?”

  Why does he care so much?

  I have nothing to offer him. I barely have anything to offer myself. Still, for that lone minute, I pretend I have all the time in the world and that I can grant Jasper one simple request.

  It doesn’t matter how much time I give him though. At the end of every second of every minute of every hour, I’ll still be me. If he ever knew what I’d done and whom I’d been with, he wouldn’t need me to think about anything. He’d already have his answer.

  “Jasper, being with me is like asking to be punished. And nobody deserves to be tortured. Not by Tess and not by me.”

  I leave out the part about it hurting too much to get attached to someone because they never stay. Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, and someday, when Jasper’s had enough, he’ll leave, too. All I’ll have left are more broken memories.

  But telling Jasper no isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. Not when he’s looking at me like he can see right through my protective shell. Maybe he can; I’ve never worn a strong suit of armor.

  “Someday, I’ll ask you to explain what you just said. But, for now, I don’t want you to worry about Tess or whatever else you’re carrying around with you. I just want you to think about you and me and what that could mean.”

  What does that mean? Freedom?

  Because, staring at Jasper, I desperately want to accept his offer. An offer that could be a way out of the trailer, an escape from the four walls that hold me captive and turn me into a vampire. But Jasper lives on the other side of the fence, and his life is as tied to Carillon as mine is. Plus, we have an entire year of school left. Life wouldn’t be all that different with Jasper. At least, I don’t think so.

  “Nothing would change,” I whisper. “And being with me would ruin your reputation at school. Your senior year would be over before it ever started.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, Winnie. Why don’t you let me worry about school? And we’ll focus on this date. I mean, I picked you up at your door and everything. There’s no denying what this is.”

  Against my better judgment, I smile. Now’s the time to push him away, before I get sucked further into his web, but all I can do is react to the goofy expression on his face. “I didn’t know you even liked me, Jasper. Is this a joke? Some bet you had at school with your friends before summer break started?”


  His expression turns dangerously serious. I swallow and realize my throat is scratchy because I’m holding back tears, not because of almost choking. All of a sudden, Jasper’s answer means everything to me, and I’m scared that it won’t be the one I want to hear.

  He reaches across the table, and I think he’s about to touch me, but then he stops.

  He blinks his eyes, and the anger disappears. “I’m not a player, Winnie. I picked you up because I wanted to see you. And I’m taking my break with you because I want time to talk, just the two of us. I’m not expecting anything, just so we’re clear.”

  I let his words marinate in my head. Every guy I’ve ever been around, no matter his age, has expected something. Whether it be sex or disgusting favors, my body is for their pleasure, and nothing I have to give is considered precious. It’s just as Jasper said—expected.

  I’ve never felt special or wanted for the right reasons. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to look Jasper in the eye and trust that he’s telling me the truth. Because there are only two times in my seventeen years of life when the line wasn’t crossed. The time in my bedroom when I wasn’t forced to open my eyes and then again on the couch in the living room. I think I might have even wanted that moment to happen, which makes no sense. Why would I have wanted the one thing that’d always disgusted me? The one thing that’d made me feel like I was robbed and broken?

  But I did. And, the older I get, the more confusing those unexpected reactions become.

  For all I know, he could have drugged me. Why else was I wasted after one rum and Coke? But I know one thing for certain; I wasn’t scared. And I didn’t care if he stopped or kept going. I didn’t even hate him being so close to me that I could smell his cologne.

  I didn’t despise him at all.

  But, if I liked it so much, why can’t I remember anything specific about him? Like the color of his eyes and his hair or what he was wearing. I’m sure I kissed his lips, but I don’t remember those either. Somehow, I’ve managed to forget the best parts of him, and I have no idea why.

  I’ve always blamed the alcohol for my foggy memories, and maybe that’s why I’m so scared at night. When Tess has one of her parties, I’m petrified he’ll walk into my room and expect me to still want him. Only he won’t be anything like I remember. He’ll just be one of the thugs who got me drunk and used me.

  He sat close to me on the couch, making sure his thigh was touching mine. In between sips of his beer, he rested the cold can against my skin. “Shh,” he whispered when I squirmed and let out a little moan. “You have to stay quiet.”

  Tess was right around the corner, and one second of being too loud would send her running, keeping me from whatever was about to happen. I was too caught up in the moment to think straight. Too nervous to open my mouth and tell him to touch me. All I could do was sit there and wait for more.

  It was a total contradiction to my normal life. The life I had to protect myself from while in my room late at night. For once, I wanted this to happen. I was okay with his hands being on my body. It made no sense.

  But he was special.

  I trusted him.

  And, even though I was nervous, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not purposefully anyway.

  His fingertips chased a few drops of condensation down my thigh, and then he slipped them underneath the hem of my skirt. “Someday, I’ll have this,” he whispered into my ear as he kissed my cheek and then my earlobe.

  It sent shock waves all the way up my spine until my scalp tingled.

  I believed him.

  I believed everything he’d said.

  And I wasn’t afraid.

  I’d do anything to feel that wanted again. To know someone was touching me because they cared about me and not because they were drunk, high, and lonely.

  “Winnie? You’re pale. Are you okay?”

  I touch my cheeks with the backs of my freezing cold hands and feel the heat radiating from my face. The same reaction happens every time I think about that night.

  “I think we should get back to work, Jasper.”

  When I stand up, he stands up, too. I can tell he’s confused, and why shouldn’t he be? Since he picked me up, I keep having flashbacks, and all I’ve done is zone in and out of the conversation. I must look like a crazy person, yet here he is, standing in front of me, not judging.

  Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and start over. So that my life wouldn’t be in so many pieces. But, as I wrap the rest of my burger in a napkin and place it back on the tray, I know there are no do-overs. Where I’ve been will always be a part of me, and where I’m going is the only part of my life I can control.

  Jasper doesn’t comment about how little I’ve eaten, and I’m grateful for that, too.

  He leads me back inside, and after he sets our tray by the sink in the kitchen, he hands me a cup of cold water. “Drink this, Winnie. It’ll help.”

  If he knew the magnitude of what he was trying to fix, he wouldn’t bother. But I take a sip anyway because that’s what will make him feel better.

  When my pulse stops hammering in my ears, I set the cup down and tie a fresh apron around my waist. Jasper doesn’t move until it’s fastened, and then we wash our hands and get back to work. He takes his place behind the grill, and I take mine on the other side of the counter, waiting for the next order of food to finish cooking.

  As soon as my tray is full, I double-check the items and then glance at the table map by the door. Table thirteen’s near the restrooms, all the way in the back corner of the bar. Each step away from the kitchen, the air gets staler, and my eyes fight to adjust to the dim lighting. I can only make out bodies, not faces, but I see him—the guy dressed in leather standing with his back toward me. I can’t tell if he’s coming or going, but he’s here.

  Not wanting to take my eyes off him for too long, I set the giant plate of nachos on the table so quickly, the plate clanks against a row of mostly full beer glasses.

  “Watch it,” one of the guys says loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “I already paid for those.”

  By the time I fix my mistake and look up again, his helmet is completely on his head, and he’s pushing the front door open.

  “Wait,” I whisper to myself.

  I swear, he hears me because he turns around at that exact moment, and if I could see his eyes through the shield, I know they’d be on mine.

  Who are you?

  Why are you here?

  And why won’t you talk to me?

  Eleven

  Jasper

  When Winnie doesn’t come back with her empty tray, I walk around the grill and peer out the door separating the kitchen from the bar. At first, I don’t see her, but when I walk a little further into the bar, I see she’s still in the corner by table thirteen with her hands covering her ears.

  The two men at the table are laying into her, yelling about their spilled beer. I look around for my brother, wondering why he’s not taking care of the situation. But, when I finally spot him, I see he has a situation of his own to deal with—Tess.

  Her arms are flailing around, and then she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. She couldn’t make it any more obvious that she’s high. And, considering her shift hasn’t started yet, I don’t know why my brother is going to let her work at all.

  Tess has the entire bar wrapped around her little finger, getting favors and handouts whenever she needs them. I just pray Ace hasn’t become one of her many admirers. Tess is too fucked up to be his little girl’s replacement mother. Not that she’d want the title anyway.

  The last thing Ace needs is his two underage employees trying to talk their way out of a bar fight, but what choice do we have? I’m the only ally Winnie has at The Whip.

  Luckily, I’m the same size as my brother, and my voice is almost deeper than his. When I ask, “What’s going on?” neither of the men questions my authority.

  “This bitch spilled my beer. Told her to get me another one, but she
won’t move her fine ass. I even offered to help her.”

  Before he gives one more suggestive glance to Winnie, I step in front of her, blocking her view of the men. Her eyes are glossed over, and she’s a million miles away. She did the same thing out back when we were having dinner, and I can’t figure out where she keeps drifting off to or why she keeps going there.

  “Winnie, look at me,” I tell her. I’m afraid to touch her, but I gently place my hands on her shoulders and bend down until my eyes are level with hers. “Look at me.”

  Finally, she snaps out of it and blinks a couple of times. Tears well in the corners of her eyes, and I wait for them to spill over her lashes. But they don’t. Trained to stay inside, the tears reabsorb into her system like they were never meant to exist.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she mumbles. “It was an accident.”

  “Of course it was. Come with me. We’ll get them another drink and then go back in the kitchen.”

  Winnie moves around me, and I can tell she doesn’t want me to touch her, so I don’t. I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs, but I know none of them come close to the pain that lurks behind her eyes.

  As soon as the drinks are replaced, I need to get Winnie out of the bar. But there’s no way for us to avoid Tess.

  She’s leaning against a barstool, talking to one of her regulars. He takes her to the back room at least three times a week. When he’s not here, someone else is, putting even more cash in Tess’s bank account. Actually, I’m not sure she goes to the bank. From what I’ve seen, she spends her money as fast as she makes it. Everyone knows who the dealers are, and she hits every one of them up.

  While I jot down the beer order on a piece of paper, Ace slides by Tess. “Is everything okay?” he asks us.

  “I handled it,” I tell my brother. “Their table was covered in beer glasses. Winnie tapped one when she was delivering their food and spilled some beer. They laid into her, so I told them we’d replace the beer.”

  “Of course she did. The little slut is useless,” Tess says as she adjusts the bra peeking out of her trashy shirt.