1 Chapter 1
“Trent, I need you to cover for Nigel tomorrow morning.”
I sighed internally, seeing my day off disappear in the wind. I glanced at Tammy, my boss. “Sick again, is he?” I asked while restocking the blank money orders next to the printer.
She rolled her eyes. “You called it. I don’t know what’s up, but he and I are gonna have a talk when he gets back.” Poor Nigel. Tammy’s “talks” tended to be brutal.
“I’ll be here, like always.”
Tammy patted my cheek. “I knew I could count on you, no matter what the grapevine says.” I scowled at her as she blew me a kiss and wandered off in search of others to torture.
I was aware of what everyone said about me. Trent the slut; sleeps with any man who’s breathing; likes a good time. As if that was what defined me. They had no idea who I really was. Then again, did Ireally know anymore?
I did my job well, and management had no complaints, for which I was thankful. It shouldn’t matter what I did on my own time, though perhaps sleeping with co-workers wasn’t the wisest thing I’d ever done.
Still, there’d been Ry Archibald, hot and currently unavailableRy Archibald in the produce department who’d been the first guy since my late teens to make me think beyond the next fuck. He’d awoken feelings and emotions that I’d all but forgotten. And then I realized he wasn’t interested in more than a tryst, and didn’t that hurt, getting a taste of my own medicine? It was a year ago, and still, it stung.
He was with Georgie Baldt now, who had quit the grocery store to pursue a Master’s degree in…whatever. Yeah, if that’s what Ry was looking for, there was no way I could compete. And I hadn’t realized until then how much I really wanted to be with someone. It almost reminded me of the time years ago when…
I tossed aside my long brown bangs—and thoughts—and went to help a customer. By lunch time, I was starving. Lately, I’d been eating outside the store because I didn’t want to talk to anyone unless I had to. I’d felt off-kilter since my encounters with Ry had ended. I thought I’d long buried the wish to be loved and cherished by someone, but there it was, front and center.
I mean, I’d deliberately set up my life to be frivolous and day-to-day, because it was better this way, as I’d learned from hard experience. I didn’t have to feel any pain or heartache. No one would betray me, and I didn’t have to feel ashamed of myself for any reason. Or end up in the hospital. I’d worked hard to get where I was today.
All I’d wanted people to see was the slender, brown-haired, blue-eyed angel whose only claim to fame was a hot body and a tight ass. And hadn’t I succeeded? But I used to want more—bemore. When had that changed? Oh yeah, when I was betrayed by my best friend—the secret crush I’d had on him completely wiped out, by the way—and been sodomized for laughs in the high school locker room more times than I care to remember, and left in one of the showers, bleeding.
That had been a very black time. While recovering in the hospital, I’d mourned the loss of something that should have been a beautiful act between consenting partners. Instead, it had been made a mockery, tarnished, and the only way I could tolerate intimacy anymore was by making it into a frivolous game. I hadn’t thought much about it until Ry came along; and now he was with someone else. I couldn’t face nameless hookups anymore. I just couldn’t.
I was alone in a mess of my own making. And I deserved it.
* * * *
That afternoon, Florina—born Floyd—worked with me to serve customers since the line was long. She was the assistant manager of my department and a total hard ass. I loved that about her, because she took shit from no one and spoke up on my behalf more often than not, though I didn’t need her to. I had a snappy comeback for everything.
“What are you doing tonight, hon?” she asked while efficiently handling a Western Union request.
“Not much,” I replied as I checked the lottery tickets for a customer. The man won five bucks and I handed over his winnings. “I have to be here early tomorrow since Nigel’s sick.”
“Again? Either he’s slumming or he really needs to see a doctor,” Florina replied as she handed the money and receipt to the impatient-looking older gentleman at the counter. “Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.”
The man didn’t say anything in response. He simply zeroed in on Florina’s Adam’s apple, then took in her mascara and perfect lipstick and scowled before walking away. I held in a retort while she helped the next customer.
