Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom) (7 page)

We talk more about birth control; she would like me to have a full cycle before inserting another IUD or choosing another form of birth control so my body has a chance to regulate itself first. She sends me for an x-ray to make sure any breaks Carl managed to inflict have healed properly. It turns out one of my ribs is still in the healing process, but luckily all other breaks have managed to set correctly on their own.

I stay in the room while Marie has her check-up. Just as I thought, she’s underweight, but only by about twelve pounds. I promise to help her gain the weight she needs to achieve a healthy BMI. The doctor draws some blood to check her nutrition levels, letting us know she will call us with the results. Dr. Enman wants to do a full physical on her, but Marie refuses, stating she’s fine. I offer to leave the room, but that seems to upset her more. The doctor doesn’t push it, but let’s her know that she would be happy to do it anytime, and to just book an appointment when she feels ready.

We leave, feeling a little better, but I can tell she’s still on edge. Ma has probably never taken her to the doctor because she’s never applied for state medical. Hell, she was probably never sober enough to even know what it is. That’s probably why Marie felt so uncomfortable.

We walk to the Frothy Moustache, and I give Marie some money to grab lunch while I do my interview. I scan the café, hoping
he
is not here. I will completely fail my interview if he’s in the same room as me. Fortunately, there’s no sign of him. I look around for the manager and notice her sitting at a table with a clipboard and her work uniform on. At least, I’m assuming it’s her. I walk over to her table and introduce myself.

“Hi, my name is Brynn Vincent. I’m here to interview for a position with you,” I say, with what I hope is confidence. I hand her the application that Tara has brought by.

“Welcome to Frothy Moustache, Brynn. My name is Stella, and I’m the manager here. Have a seat, and don’t be nervous. I promise I don’t bite,” she says with a small laugh. So much for confidence, she clearly saw through my façade. I take the seat opposite her.

Stella is curvy, blonde, and beautiful. She looks to be about thirty, but I’m guessing she’s probably into her forties. I sit awkwardly for a moment while she scans through my application. I’m glad when she breaks the silence first.

“I see that you had some serving experience in the past, so you know how the industry works. We serve the public, and our job is to keep the customers satisfied. Unfortunately, people usually come in here pretty grumpy, but by the time they’ve had their morning coffee, they’re more alert and generally in a much better mood. I think you’ll find the other baristas and servers here are all very friendly and welcoming. If you have an issue with anyone, all you have to do is let me know and hopefully we’ll be able to work it out quickly,” she says with a smile. I relax some, she seems pleasant. It’s just a coffee shop, I can do this.

“So, Brynn, can you tell me why you would be a good fit here at the Frothy Moustache?” Stella asks. I hesitate before answering her. It’s probably not going to be the right answer, but at least it will be an honest one.

“Well, I never took a sick day when I worked at the diner, and I did more than what was in my job description. I worked hard, but I won’t lie, I did make mistakes, too. Once in a while someone would get the wrong order, or I’d forget to bring out the ketchup—things like that. I’d like to say that I’m the perfect employee, but I don’t want to disappoint you either. All I can promise is that I will give you my very best from the moment I walk through the door. I want to be here. It’s actually the first place my sister and I ate when we came to New York. I love the atmosphere,” I say nervously. She scans my application, and I wonder if she’s looking for evidence that I’m a complete idiot. She surprises me with her reply, though.

“I respect honesty, Brynn, I really do. I have high hopes that you will fit in here. I have two positions available right now. The first is a barista, which would be making espresso drinks, coffee, tea, that sort of thing. It will take about a week of training and will require you to move quickly and remember a lot of information at once.

There’s also a server position. You would be responsible for taking the customer’s orders and relaying them to the barista. Anything baked will also be your responsibility to plate or bag. It requires dealing with the public more than the barista, but the tips are better, too. Servers tip the baristas thirty percent of their tips at the end of their shift. I’d be happy to train you for whichever position you’d feel most comfortable with,” she offers. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing I have successfully gained employment, my first step of independence in New York. I see a server wave Stella over, and she stands, excusing herself.

I use the time she’s gone to decide which position I’m most suited for. I’m not sure I’ll be great at either, but I need to at least try. I think about the barista and look over to see them moving expertly behind the counter. I’m clumsy and a daydreamer. There’s no way I’d be able to handle hot liquids, let alone remember some of the complex orders I’ve heard being shouted out around here. The only reason I can see not taking the server position, though, is Blaze. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to face him again, especially daily. But is that really enough of a reason to turn down a job I might be good at? A job that will help me support and keep Marie safe? I find the answer I’m looking for before Stella comes back and sits across from me.

“Well?” she asks cheerfully.

“I think I’ve decided to try the position of server. I think it would benefit me to interact with the public on a daily basis, and I hope that I would represent Frothy Moustache well by giving it my all every day I’m here,” I say, and she nods. “I am extremely grateful for this opportunity, and I will accept either position you decide to place me in,” I say, much quicker than I probably should have. Crap, could she even understand me? She laughs at my eagerness.

“I think you will do wonderfully as a server, Brynn. The position I need filled is actually during our rush hours. We’re a pretty busy store if you haven’t noticed,” she says looking around with pride. “Let’s start you out from 6:30-2:30 Monday through Friday. I know you have a sister you’re taking care of as well, so I’ll try and keep you during school hours, but it may not always be possible if you’re looking for overtime. How does that sound?” she asks.

“That sounds perfect, thank you again. I really appreciate the opportunity. You have no idea,” I say honestly. I can’t help the smile that has now spread across my face.

“I’m sure I do. Well, why don’t you grab something to eat, and I’ll go check the schedule to see when we’re able to start your training. I’ll grab you an apron, too. You’re welcome to wear your own clothes—black pants and a black shirt—as long as it has sleeves of some sort, it should be fine,” she says, motioning to her own outfit. I nod, and watch as she disappears into the back of the store. I decide to steer clear of the latte and croissant that remind me so much of Blaze and try a blueberry scone and a chai tea instead. I join Marie who’s already finished half of her bagel and is sipping on her tea.

“Well, how did it go?” she asks excitedly.

“I got the job,” I answer, and she lets out a quiet squeal. “I’m waiting to find out when I start. I’ll be there to pick you up from school, but you’ll have to get there on your own because I start at 6:30 in the morning. I’m a little bit worried about that,” I say searching her face to see how she feels about it.

“Brynn, I love you, but I’ll be fine. It’s only two blocks away, and you heard what Tara said. He can’t leave the state without a judge’s permission. Plus, he has absolutely no idea where we are, and no way to find out. We can’t live in fear of him. We just need to be aware that he exists until he’s behind bars,” she says matter of factly.

Stella returns with my apron and the schedule. I start full time, Monday to Friday next week. In spite of my fear, I still feel proud of myself. It’s been so long since I had a job, so long since I had a life. It’s going to feel good living as an independent woman.

Marie and I finish up our lunch and walk to the therapist’s for our first session. It goes pretty well, and I open up as much as I’m able to. I need to get past all of this, and I’m tired of living in fear.

We head to the mall next for a few pairs of black pants and tops. I’d like to throw out everything I brought from Carl’s house, but I don’t feel comfortable spending that much money yet. Maybe after my first pay check Marie and I can own more than a few outfits each. We go grocery shopping before spending our first night together in the apartment making pizza and chocolate chip cookies.

The rest of the weekend passes in a similar fashion. Neither of us wanted to bring up the outside world, so instead we simply enjoyed each other’s company, watching bad cable movies and cooking together with recipes we found on the internet.

Sunday night, however, we both start feeling a little anxious. Marie has never been to a new school before. She’s never had to make new friends, and I’m not even sure she has ever had any to begin with. I want it to be different for her here; I want her to be happy. I do my best to reassure her. We pick out our clothes before getting ready for bed. I set my alarm for 5:00 a.m. and close my eyes. The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep are those emerald green eyes staring back at mine in horror. How am I going to make it through tomorrow?

Chapter 6

I wake the next morning feeling more refreshed than I have in a long time. I shower and get ready for work, happy that my bruises are barely visible anymore. With makeup I’m unable to tell that they were ever there in the first place. I pack Marie’s lunch, and then decide to put a five dollar bill beside it, as well. I want her to be able to make her own choice, and I want her to feel like she can fit in with her peers. Kids can be cruel over the smallest things. It really sucked to be the kid who sat in the cafeteria with nothing at all to eat, just smelling everyone else’s lunches. I cringe at the thought of ever letting her go through something like that again.

I wake Marie before leaving for work, going over the directions to the school again. We have walked by it before, but I’m still really nervous. I gave her principal my work number, letting her know to call me if she doesn’t show up to school on time. They’re most likely expecting a delinquent with bad grades, but at least they will be pleasantly surprised to find otherwise.

With a final hug to Marie, I leave for my very first day of work. I use Marie’s mantra to boost my confidence:
Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it
.

The walk to work is a little chilly, but at least it’s not very far. The hustle and bustle of the crowd provides some protection against the wind. Another perk to New York is that I don’t feel left out not owning a vehicle; it seems like the majority of people walk or use taxis. I arrive at work fifteen minutes early.

The first few hours I’m led around by Stella, filling out paperwork, getting a tour and finally, learning how to operate the cash register. I’m even given my own name tag. I’m feeling fairly confident after my lunch hour, so I partner with a very leggy girl named Wren. She’s got short red hair and the body of a model. I think she’s around the same age as me, maybe a little older. She seems sweet and encourages me to take my first customer.

“Welcome to Frothy Moustache, what can I help you with today?” I say, exuding confidence, or at least attempting to.

“I’ll have a low-fat cranberry banana muffin, a tall skinny latte, and one of those hot new charity calendars you guys are selling for the Presbyterian Burn Unit,” the female customer says with a wicked grin. I’ve got the muffin and latte punched in and hollered out, but I’m lost on the calendar. Wren steps up beside me, to help.

“I’ve got just what you’re looking for,” Wren says, leaning into the cash register to punch in a code before pulling a calendar from under the counter. “And if you stick around long enough, you can catch each and every one of these bad boys in here,” Wren says excitedly. She sets the calendar on the counter, and I catch my first glimpse.

There are twelve shirtless fire fighters—all greased up—standing outside of their fire station. Immediately, my eye catches the one dead center. I’d recognize him anywhere. He doesn’t have that just rolled out of bed look in the photo, though; he’s half naked and full of dirt, grease, and rippling hard muscle. I start to feel faint, so I grab the edge of the counter for balance.

“Earth to Brynn!” I hear called out, and I look back up at Wren who, along with the customer, is now laughing at me.

“You might want to wipe that drool from the corner of your mouth,” she says before bursting into laughter again.

I turn bright red instantly and bend down to grab the woman’s muffin, hoping they didn’t notice my change in complexion. Just great, now I look like a total pervert. But hey, I wasn’t the one buying the calendar, right? I
will
own one, though, so help me God. I pop back up with her bagged muffin just in time to hear that sexy drawl.

“Like what you see ladies? Just wait until you see August, you do know that’s the hottest month of the year, right?” he asks with a cocky grin.

I watch as my female customer, who is standing beside him, starts fanning herself with the calendar. He turns his chiseled jaw my way, and I can tell the exact moment he lays eyes on me. Our eyes meet, and his grin turns into a pained smile.

I remember the words I spoke to him the last time I saw him and how I managed to make a complete ass of myself. If it’s possible, I turn a few shades redder. I try and rectify the situation quickly by turning away from him and back to the customer. I hand her the muffin, but she keeps her eyes trained on Blaze.

“You can show me how hot August is any month, fireman,” she says, trailing her finger down his chest.

I can feel my blood boiling, so I turn and grab her latte from Amber, one of the baristas on shift today. I fight the urge to spit in it before handing it to the flirty customer. I steal a quick glance at Blaze, who’s removing her finger from his chest. I have no idea where the jealousy inside of me is coming from, and I don’t like it.