me.
I hate that people like Drake believe I’m weak and take advantage of it. Why didn’t I poke him in the eye when he shoved his fingers up my crotch?
God, that memory. I take a steadying breath and swallow the bitter taste in my mouth.
I’m not defenseless, but I choked. My brain froze and I didn’t react. I’m tall, athletic, and strong for a woman, but mentally I shut down when things get heavy. It served me in the past to keep quiet. I would have been a pariah in junior high and high school if people had known what my mother did to make ends meet. But clamming up isn’t working for me anymore—it makes me vulnerable.
I could tell management what happened like Lewis suggested, but Drake wasn’t circumspect in the least. It was almost as if he and the men were in on it together. What if management fires me the way they did Cali? She said she didn’t know why they let her go, but Cali’s feisty. Maybe she looked at a manager the wrong way, instead of groveling, and he had her fired. Who knows what these jerks are capable of?
Before I do anything, I need to figure out what’s going on in this place.
I pull out my ordering pad and stare at the Web address for the Alpine Mudder. Nessa was right about stepping out of my self-imposed box. I’m so bottled up I don’t know how to react when I need to. I was put in a bad position upstairs, and sure, I squirmed around a bit, but I should have done more, said more. Anything would have been better than mentally locking up.
The mudder looks dangerous and filthy, and there will be tons of macho guys participating. My comfort zone will be so far away I won’t be able to see it, but if I don’t learn how to fight, I’ll always be pushed down.
I unlock the iPhone I grabbed from my locker and punch in the address, registering for the race.
Chapter Nine
A bachelor party hoots in the corner as I enter the sports bar the next night. They’re the only customers in here. Why the casino packs two waitresses in what’s generally a customer dead zone is beyond me, but I’m happy to escape Mont Belle Lounge for one evening. Nessa tucks a few bills in her caddy and spots me, a bright smile lighting her face. Several men from the bachelor party ogle her ass as she walks my way.
She sets her tray on the counter, her expression serious. “Hey there. How are you?”
My first instinct is to panic. She knows. But Nessa can’t know about Drake. I haven’t told anyone, and for some reason, I trust Lewis won’t either.
I smile instead of replying. Nessa blinks as if she suspects something’s off.
Cali left town before I returned from work last night. She texted that she’d be at her mom’s in Carson City. When I asked when she was coming home, she didn’t say.
Cali is still so angry. We didn’t get a chance to talk about our fight—and I didn’t get a chance to tell her about Drake. Without Cali’s support, I feel doubly vulnerable.
I grab a Styrofoam cup from the bar and pour coffee, adding a packet of processed hot chocolate. We get creative when business slows. Making use of the various bar supplies seems a good utilization of time, and it’s the perfect opportunity to get Nessa’s attention off me. She follows my lead and pours her own bastardized mocha.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said—about stepping out of my comfort zone,” I tell her. She glances up with interest. “Have you heard of the Alpine Mudder?”
After registering for the race, I researched it. I’ll need to train if I’m to have any hope of surviving. Normally, the mudder isn’t a race, but a physical challenge for those wishing to torture—I mean, test —their mental and physical endurance. This year’s Alpine Mudder costs more to enter and provides cash prizes to top finalists. The leftover proceeds go to a national charity. Already, the number of entrants has doubled from previous years.
Typically, people join to have fun, but with cash prizes within grasp, pro
I hate that people like Drake believe I’m weak and take advantage of it. Why didn’t I poke him in the eye when he shoved his fingers up my crotch?
God, that memory. I take a steadying breath and swallow the bitter taste in my mouth.
I’m not defenseless, but I choked. My brain froze and I didn’t react. I’m tall, athletic, and strong for a woman, but mentally I shut down when things get heavy. It served me in the past to keep quiet. I would have been a pariah in junior high and high school if people had known what my mother did to make ends meet. But clamming up isn’t working for me anymore—it makes me vulnerable.
I could tell management what happened like Lewis suggested, but Drake wasn’t circumspect in the least. It was almost as if he and the men were in on it together. What if management fires me the way they did Cali? She said she didn’t know why they let her go, but Cali’s feisty. Maybe she looked at a manager the wrong way, instead of groveling, and he had her fired. Who knows what these jerks are capable of?
Before I do anything, I need to figure out what’s going on in this place.
I pull out my ordering pad and stare at the Web address for the Alpine Mudder. Nessa was right about stepping out of my self-imposed box. I’m so bottled up I don’t know how to react when I need to. I was put in a bad position upstairs, and sure, I squirmed around a bit, but I should have done more, said more. Anything would have been better than mentally locking up.
The mudder looks dangerous and filthy, and there will be tons of macho guys participating. My comfort zone will be so far away I won’t be able to see it, but if I don’t learn how to fight, I’ll always be pushed down.
I unlock the iPhone I grabbed from my locker and punch in the address, registering for the race.
Chapter Nine
A bachelor party hoots in the corner as I enter the sports bar the next night. They’re the only customers in here. Why the casino packs two waitresses in what’s generally a customer dead zone is beyond me, but I’m happy to escape Mont Belle Lounge for one evening. Nessa tucks a few bills in her caddy and spots me, a bright smile lighting her face. Several men from the bachelor party ogle her ass as she walks my way.
She sets her tray on the counter, her expression serious. “Hey there. How are you?”
My first instinct is to panic. She knows. But Nessa can’t know about Drake. I haven’t told anyone, and for some reason, I trust Lewis won’t either.
I smile instead of replying. Nessa blinks as if she suspects something’s off.
Cali left town before I returned from work last night. She texted that she’d be at her mom’s in Carson City. When I asked when she was coming home, she didn’t say.
Cali is still so angry. We didn’t get a chance to talk about our fight—and I didn’t get a chance to tell her about Drake. Without Cali’s support, I feel doubly vulnerable.
I grab a Styrofoam cup from the bar and pour coffee, adding a packet of processed hot chocolate. We get creative when business slows. Making use of the various bar supplies seems a good utilization of time, and it’s the perfect opportunity to get Nessa’s attention off me. She follows my lead and pours her own bastardized mocha.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said—about stepping out of my comfort zone,” I tell her. She glances up with interest. “Have you heard of the Alpine Mudder?”
After registering for the race, I researched it. I’ll need to train if I’m to have any hope of surviving. Normally, the mudder isn’t a race, but a physical challenge for those wishing to torture—I mean, test —their mental and physical endurance. This year’s Alpine Mudder costs more to enter and provides cash prizes to top finalists. The leftover proceeds go to a national charity. Already, the number of entrants has doubled from previous years.
Typically, people join to have fun, but with cash prizes within grasp, pro