Breaking Out (26 page)

Her memory retreated to a familiar place where a similar pen flicked. She was suddenly in Lucian's office, beneath his desk. Her mind jerked out of that vivid memory and back into the present.

“It says here you're twenty-three?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, but didn't look at her. “What did you do when you worked at Patras? That's quite a different atmosphere than what you can expect at Clemons.”

You aren't kidding.
“I was in housekeeping.”

“And why did you leave your last job?”

Fuck.
“I, um, I could still go back there. I left on okay terms. I just . . . it wasn't for me.”

He looked at her then, his plain eyes swimming behind the augmented lenses of his glasses. “Being a floor clerk is no easy job, Evelyn. I wouldn't want you to assume this job will be any easier.”

She held back an eye roll. “I'm sure it isn't. I'm a hard worker, Mr. Gerhard. I just didn't fit in so well with the people at Patras. I wanted a change of setting. That's all.”

He smiled softly as if he had a secret. His smile didn't show teeth. It was really just a curve of his hairy lip. She smiled back nervously.

“Call me Travis.” Leaning forward he placed the application on the desk. When he spoke, the scent of spearmint laced coffee wafted at her, but she remained still, plastering a serene expression on her face.

“Evelyn, I think you might be a good addition to our team here.”

Relief rose within her like a swarm of butterflies, but she held her breath as she noticed the manager's reluctant expression. She waited, foot tapping incessantly, as he went on.

“You'll be under a trial period for the first ninety days, in which you'll report to me and I'll be keeping a close eye on your performance. Clemons is a family name, and our customers depend on the community feel they get here that they don't necessarily find at the more corporate grocers. It's important that you always smile and make the customer feel as though they're important. That's the Clemons way.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dress code is gray slacks and Clemons pink-issue dress shirt with a Clemons apron. Your appearance matters. If you're ever working around the deli or fish department, you're expected to wear a hairnet and gloves. You'll likely be at the register for now, although you will have to stock from time to time.”

He stood and went to the dented filing cabinet. The drawer made an obnoxious scrape as it slid opened and rattled closed. When he returned to the desk, he was holding another form.

“You'll need to fill out the proper tax forms and return with them before you start. Payday is the second and fourth Thursday of each month. Lateness is docked, and days off must be cleared ten days in advance.”

He slid the tax paperwork across the desk. She'd have Parker help with that. When he leaned back, he examined her. There was something very artificial about him, like his skin was made of wax. His eyes creased the way eyes did with a smirk, but he wasn't smiling under that mustache, from what she could tell.

“I want you to know that I'm the type of manager who cares very much for my employees, Evelyn. If you have any problems I want you to come to me with them.”

“Uh, okay, Mr. Gerhard.”

His mustache curved. “Travis.”

She nodded. “Travis.”

“Good. How does Monday sound?”

After a sharp and fleeting thought of Tamara Jones, her GM at Patras who was so normal and sweet, Scout plastered on a smile. “Monday sounds great.”

“Great! Welcome to Clemons.”

She took his extended hand. It was dry and chafed her palm. She breathed in the unwelcome scent of spearmint and coffee.

Parker waited on a bench around the corner from the store entrance. He was reading a tattered paperback. As she approached he looked up. “Hey, how'd it go?”

“I got it!”

He smiled and stood, pulling her into a brief hug. “That's great! When do you start?”

They began walking in the direction of her apartment. “Monday.”

“Good. How was the interview?”

She burrowed her hands into the pockets of her corduroy jacket as they strode briskly along the walk. “Fine. My boss is sort of weird.”

“Well, you like weird bosses, no?”

Her face tightened at his joke. “Lucian wasn't weird. He was . . . unconventional.”

“Pretentious.”

She frowned and nudged him with her shoulder. “No, I mean he was unexpected. He isn't the way people see him.”

They crossed the street in silence. “I think you glorify him for reasons he doesn't deserve.”

Keeping her gaze down, she shrugged. “Maybe, but I can't see him as the untouchable man the rest of the world sees him as. He isn't like that. He's caring and loving and—”

“I don't need to hear anymore. Tell me why your new boss is weird.”

They turned onto her block. “I don't know. I think he's around our age, but he acts older. He's serious in a way I just don't get. How intense could the world of groceries be?”

“Maybe it's been a rough berry season?”

She laughed as they entered her building. “I have paperwork I need to fill out.”

“I'll help you with it.” They took the elevator in silence.

Parker casually removed her coat after unlocking the door. She stilled, not expecting him to do such a thing.

The apartment was quiet as it always was. She couldn't wait to be gone from there. Be gone from all things Lucian. She faced Parker and came up short. He was right behind her.

She waited for him to say something. The sun was fading and they should probably turn on a lamp. Thinking that was the perfect reason to turn away from his confusing stare, she did just that.

The spell broke, and he moved to the pantry and began rummaging in the kitchen. “We should have gotten some milk while we were there.”

She took a seat at the counter and watched him as he pulled out various containers and stacked them on the counter.

“Do you plan on cooking something?” she asked.

“Aren't you hungry? I'm starved.”

She said nothing. She considered her hunger, but her appetite was being a finicky bitch. She knew better than to turn down food though. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Sure. What's not to know?”

“I don't know. I mean, I can heat up canned stuff, but I don't know how to use kitchen things. The oven scares me, and once I put something in the microwave and a huge blue spark snapped.”

He laughed. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

Scout smiled as her stomach clenched in agreement. “Sounds delicious.”

Parker threw down a mean grilled cheese. The soup was from a can, but perfectly thick and warm, heating her insides up just right. They ate and talked about safe topics like the weather, St. Christopher's, and Pearl.

“Have you been to visit her lately?”

“Not since I left. The place she's staying at is far.”

“I could take you,” he offered.

She met his gaze. “How?”

“I could rent a car.”

“Parker, that would be a fortune. It's not in the city.”

“So. I have money.”

“Don't waste your money on me—”

He caught her hand before she could reach for the other half of her sandwich. “Hey, it wouldn't be a waste. It would make you happy and that would make me happy. Money's meant to be spent, Scout. Let's go see Pearl. I miss her.”

The fact that he could actually say that and mean it did things to her insides she didn't quite understand. Pearl was such a troubling part of who she was, yet Parker got it. He'd always gotten it. Pearl was her mother and that was that.

She smiled shyly and nodded. “Okay, I'd like that.”

After dinner she helped Parker do the dishes in comfortable silence, then took a shower. As she stood in the door to her bedroom, she stared at the large, undisturbed bed dominating the space.

He left her and was never coming back. The dull familiar pain came as usually with the thought. She missed him.

Scout changed into soft cotton pants and a loose fitting T-shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, her gaze routinely being pulled to her bag. Her eyes skittered to the door and back to her bag.

Slowly she placed the brush on the nightstand and picked up her bag. She dug in the deep pockets until the weight of her phone filled her hand.

Examining the object for several long minutes, she thought. What was he doing at the moment? Was he alone? Was he happy? Did he still think about her?

Her thumb slid over the screen bringing the device to life. Under contacts she found four numbers, Lucian Cell, Lucian Office, Penthouse, and Dugan. Other than that there was nothing.

Three bars showed in the top left of the screen. Her thumb trailed longingly over his name. What if she called?

Before she considered what she was doing, she pressed the number that said Lucian Cell and brought the phone to her ear. It went immediately to voice mail.

“Hello, you've reached Lucian Patras. Leave a message after the tone.”

The sound of his voice was like a blade slicing through her. Warmth pulled like blood, and pain ran cold, turning her veins to ice. She ended the call and tossed the phone aside.

She couldn't keep doing this. She needed to move on. He was in France and apparently not alone.

Standing, she went to the living room and found Parker sitting on the couch. Lamplight pooled around him. He was reading. As he heard her approach, he looked up from the pages of the same tattered paperback and smiled gently.

“Hey.”

“What are you reading?”

He flipped to the faded cover. “
To Kill a Mockingbird.
”
He gestured to the space beside him and Scout settled in.

This was good. This was familiar. This, reading with Parker, was one of her favorite pastimes.

“Should I start back at the beginning?”

His finger was wedged against the spine, showing her he'd already read half the book. “Just catch me up.”

He sighed happily and placed his arm over the back of the sofa, drawing her close to his side. Again, she noticed the odd way he'd taken to touching her, but her skin was so starved for contact, she didn't object.

The cover of the novel was faded green and orange with a crude brown tree taking up space. He'd mentioned this book to her the day they first met. Her lips curved as she recalled the arrogant way she'd talked to him, thinking he was just some punk trying to steal her shoes.

“Well, the story takes place around the thirties. There are two kids and their father's a lawyer. He's trying to teach the kids that you always fight for what's right even when you know you can't win. The main character's name is Scout.”

Scout turned and looked at him. “Like me.”

“Yes.” He smiled and pressed her back into the curve of his shoulder. “Atticus, the father, gave Scout a small gun, but he told her she couldn't shoot the mockingbirds because they're harmless. That's where the title comes from. As the story goes on, Atticus takes on a trial defending a black man accused of raping a white woman. The kids go to the trial and are convinced of the man's innocence, but Atticus loses because the world is unfair.”

“It's a book about crime?” Scout asked, confused. By the title she'd thought it would be about birds.

“It's a book about people and understanding others. Boo, the neighbor, is a recluse. He's terrified of the real world because he was never allowed to be a part of it, but he isn't a bad man. Scout's father tries to teach her about life, but there are so many miscarriages of justice along the way.”

Parker shrugged and slid his thumb from between the pages. “That's it basically. Scout learns life is unfair and good people protect those more vulnerable than the rest.”

She scowled at the plain cover and eerie tree. “Do you like this book?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then why are you reading it?”

“I like Scout and Atticus.”

She smiled. “Why do you like Scout?”

His thumb rolled over the beveled leaves of the cover. “She's tough. She doesn't care about social niceties, but is fascinated by human nature. She defends those who can't defend themselves. And she's fun.”

Heat crested her cheeks. He was describing her. “And what about Atticus?”

“Atticus is great. His moral compass leads the story. He holds respect for anyone that deserves it, even the poor. He's . . . consistent.”

“Was your dad like Atticus?” They rarely spoke of his family, but she was trying to understand why he would like such a story.

He laughed without humor. “No, my father was nothing like Atticus. My father was greatly influenced by others' wealth, and he had about as much moral fiber as a rock. Atticus believed that a person's nearness to evil destroyed innocence.”

“Do you see me as that Scout?”

His lips curved slightly. “In some ways. Sometimes I guess I think of you as Scout and myself as Atticus. I want to protect you from evil and keep you innocent.”

Her brow knit at his words. She wasn't expecting an answer like that. Leaning back, she scowled at him. “I'm not a child, Parker.”

“I know.” His agreement was quick and somehow sad.

Just once, she'd like to point out to him all the not-so-childlike things she'd done in her life. Maybe then he would stop acting like her keeper. Her anger quickly dissipated. She didn't want to fight. “Are you going to finish it?”

He looked down at the book, its frayed, yellowed pages smoothed into a thick block. “Eventually. I've read it so many times I can just enjoy parts here and there. I don't need to read it through. Did you want me to read it to you?”

“No.”

His expression appeared crestfallen, but his mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Do you want me to read something else?”