Resisting Fate (Predetermined) Page 2
“I told you both that if she was going to be working here, then I wouldn’t agree to help. You guys lied to me, what the hell?” Holy balls… That wasn’t Jack Hartman…was it?
I stiffened. My knees knocked together and I gripped a shelf next to me to stay upright. He had a voice that could easily melt chocolate, and it settled in the air around me, consuming me in a way I didn’t understand. No voice should make a person feel this way…especially not from a guy who scared the piss out of me.
I pressed my hand over my chest, praying that my heart wouldn’t leap out.
He sounded almost inhuman, more animalistic, and even more fascinating. I bit my lip, and attempted to peek through one of the open shelves nearby to get a better look at them. Still…I couldn’t see shit.
“Listen Jack, you’re going to have to get over this sooner or later, son. Maybe with Zachary gone for a while, things will be easier on you, and you’ll finally be able to tolerate the…situation better.”
“Yeah, sure and hell froze over yesterday, Uncle Alan.”
“Oh, Jack…can you please try to make this work? We really need you. She really needs you…” The teary voice of Mrs. Martin came to a stop, along with the rest of their conversation. I stiffened, and attempted to tiptoe backwards with my hands behind me to guide the way.
Crap, did they know I was listening?
My stomach churned with unease as I slipped down to the tile floor, my back pressed against the metal shelves and I curled my knees under my chin. Man how I wish my own super, secret ninja skills were up to par!
“Hey there Emmy, are you ready?” Mr. Martin appeared stealthily at my left, his voice was as curious as it was quiet.
I squeaked, fist to my chest. He’d done it again! Damn the man!
“Yup, I uh…” I stuttered, twisting my hands together intermittently over my kneecaps. “I have to grab my purse in the, uh, break room first.”
He smiled at me knowingly, a complete and utter Zachary like smile of course.
I stood tentatively, not quite able to make eye contact with him as I slipped off towards my intended destination. My cheeks were flaming hot from embarrassment, and I was ready to crawl into a hole.
Crap. Would I ever learn how to snoop properly?
I didn’t bother looking towards the devil boy that hovered a few feet to my right, even though every sense on my body went on high alert as I passed him. He growled again, and it wasn’t that of a puppy dog. I held my breath as I scooted onward with my head held high. He was either going to attack me, or throw something at me. I was ready for the both.
“Jack Hartman, that’s enough! Leave her alone!” Mr. Martin yelled at said evil boy and I fled into the tiny, nine-by-nine break room.
What the hell happened out there? I shook my head, determined to gain control of my panic. My heart didn’t calm, but my breath eventually evened out. My trembling fingers dug around inside of my purse. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but the simple action was helping to ease my weirdly wired emotions, so I kept up my hunt, even if it was pointless.
“You know…if you didn’t have that big suitcase thing for a purse, then maybe you could find what you’re looking for.” Holy. Balls. He was in the room with me. Why was he in the room with me?
My body stiffened like rigor mortis had set in. His deep voice bellowed with humor from behind me. God give me the strength to make it through this alive.
“Umm, well…” Crap Emmy, get it together! I was speechless and panicky? This was so not good, especially since I hadn’t even gotten a look at said crazy guy yet.
That was about to change. It was time I put on my big girl panties and woman up. No boy was ever going to get to me again.
“Um hel-lo? You got a hearing issue or something Strawberry, ‘cuz I’m talking to you.”
Oh hell no. He did not pull the nickname crap on me…
Turning around, I went all out Muhammad Ali on him, one fist raised up high in a ball, the other one ready to do the Three Stooges eye poke if need be. I had to have looked like an idiot, but I was prepared, that’s all that mattered.
Soft chuckles insulted my inner eardrums as I finally peeked at the unwelcome intruder.
“Well…do you?”
Everything in the room blurred except for the black haired boy before me. My breath caught deep in my lungs, my palms began to sweat. Yeah, seeing him was nothing like hearing him.
If anything, it was worse.
My mouth dropped open, a gazillion pounds of drool had to have been spilling out as I gawked up at the vision in black jeans and a white tee shirt.
My heart, it didn’t just skip a beat at the sight before me. It went all out marathon instead. There was nothing in my life that could have prepared me for what I saw there, leaning up against that door frame.
Wowzas…
Hot damn…Jack Hartman had turned into a babe!
My eyes met and devoured his blue ones with an intensity that I couldn’t even begin to describe. My stomach flipped-flopped again, and if my head hadn’t been attached to my neck, then it probably would have been spinning. Crap…why did the long-lost, scary ass cousin have to be so gorgeous?
“What? You see something you like, Strawberry? ‘Cuz I can tell you right now, you are definitely not my type.”
…and there went my momentary stupidity. Can you say asshole?
“No! I uh…um…” Come on Emmy, you can totally do this… “My purse is um…I mean was my late grandmother’s so I like to, uh, carry it around so I can have a little piece of her with me at all times.” I crossed my arms awkwardly, letting my purse dangle in front of my stomach.
He perused me with his sky colored eyes. Damn him. What was he thinking? What did he want?
I’ve never been the type of girl who could handle being caught off guard. In that moment, with him standing there all-delish and stuff, that was exactly how I felt, and I didn’t like it. At all.
“Huh…so you’re telling me, Strawberry, that you have a piece of your dead grandma in that purse right there?” He smirked, pointing down at the object in question. My brows drew together at his cocky smile.
Oh the nerve of this hot as hell asshole.
Lifting my chin in defiance, I poked an accusing finger at him, intending to give it right back. There was no way I was going to put up with this bullshit. “Listen you asshole, you know that’s not what I—”
“Jack! Get out of here, and leave Emmy alone. Now!” Mr. Martin’s fierce voice interrupted our almost battle, saving me from completely beating the crap out of the guy. Not that I could have taken him anyways…
I harrumphed in irritation at the interruption instead of relief, tapping my foot against the floor as I stared back at Jack. Okay, so if I were five, then a ‘nanee nanee boo-boo’ would have easily fallen from my lips at Mr. Martin’s berating of his nephew. But I was seventeen, and could easily have taken care of myself, if need be. I didn’t need anyone to come to my rescue, and if I had five more minutes alone with this guy, then he wouldn’t have looked all that pretty anymore…
“I was only saying hello Uncle Alan. Emmy was the one harassing me…” What the hell? Harassing? I couldn’t put one full sentence together when I was talking to him. How in the hell was that considered harassment?
“Mr. Martin I’m sorry, but I didn’t—”
I turned to face him—to explain myself—but he stopped me, raising his palm and pressing it outwards. I curled my upper lip in annoyance at the man I loved like a father. But no more words slipped from my mouth. Apparently my time at talking was done. Nice. I breathed in through my nose, and out through my mouth, trying hard to reign in my anger towards the man who was obviously trying to keep me safe.
“I know Emmy; just grab your stuff so I can get you home. Jack was supposed to be getting something for Tammy out of the storage room. Obviously though, my nephew has some issues with following directions.”
I glanced over at Jack again, curious as to what his r
esponse was. And instead of guilt, or regret, I saw humor playing out across his mouth. My jaw dropped. Man, this guy had a big time authority issue. Hell, even his eyes looked like they were smiling. Wow, what was his issue?
“See ya soon, Strawberry…” Jack whispered.
Mr. Martin wrapped an arm around my waist. I tried hard not to cringe at his all-controlling protection issue, and couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder towards this boy—again. He was quickly becoming a magnet that I couldn’t resist looking at, even if he infuriated the hell out of me.
The truth was, Jack Hartman affected me more in the last five minutes than any boy had ever done before.
That scared me more than anything…
My pulsed rocketed as our eyes met again. Then he smiled at me, that cocky bastard smile, as he threw me a little one fingered wave. And no, it wasn’t his pinky that he used either.
Blood boiled in my veins like volcanic acid. He had me all riled up. I tightened my fingers into a fist with one hand, only to reciprocate the gesture with the other.
Oh yeah, this boy had no idea what I was capable of.
Chapter Two
The ride home from work was scary intense. Mr. Martin was beyond quiet and that was almost freakier than the way he’d reacted at the store.
Trust me, big bad boy Jack was not on my most beloved list either, that was for damn sure.
Thank God for the peace and serenity of my house. I needed, more than anything, to relax before I had to deal with the other issues in my life, my spastic mother being A-number one. Now, if only I could have snuck by the drunken douche in the family room without being noticed. Then I would have been left perfectly stress free. Well…at least for a little while longer that is. As soon as my mom got home from work, I’d be taking over Jamie duties, while she tended to the pathetic needs of her tanked-up husband.
“Hey flame brain, that you?” I froze in place. Crap, even tiptoeing feet couldn’t hide me from the monster tonight.
I shivered in unease, edging my way towards the hallway, hating him even more for using his little pet name on me. Why couldn’t he ever call me by my real name? Actually, now that I thought about it, nobody seemed to be able to do that anymore. And yeah, sure, I had hair the color of, well…strawberries, but hey, I did have a God-given name that I occasionally liked to be called.
“I said hey, you stupid piece of shit. Now answer me!” He shouted even louder. I glanced down at the garbage bag hanging out by the living room entrance, an empty jar of whiskey peeked out from the top. I shook my head, and pushed it down with the sole of my shoe, hating that tonight was one of those liquor over beer nights.
Those kind of nights always sucked major ass…
“Damn it kid, make yourself useful, and get your ass in here, now!”
I blew out a breath, trying to rein in my temper, trying even harder to let his words bounce off me. I placed my book bag and jacket onto the foot of the staircase, readying myself for the craptastic night he was surely about to bring.
The sound of something hard crashed against the drywall, and I jumped, falling back against the railing. I let out a tiny yip, and pressed my palm over my mouth so I could capture the rest of my squeak. The last thing I needed was for him to discover he’d freaked me out. I wasn’t weak. He didn’t need to think I was. I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was more than apparent that my night of relaxation was no longer going to be a possibility.
I really hated that man.
I made my way around the wall that separated the kitchen from our small family room, when I caught sight of his sloppy, fat ass sprawled out on the couch. His brown filled glass was perfectly balanced in one hand; the remote and cigarette were equally as steady in the other. He had some serious skills in that drunken freak category. I hated that this had become a permanent way of life for me. I hated that this was what I dealt with on a day in, day out basis. But what I hated the most was the fact that I was growing used to it.
Too, being used to something didn’t necessarily mean I accepted it. I wanted to change it. And I wanted to change it soon. I just needed some time…
My shoulders fell as I headed for the kitchen, frustration and hatred built in my chest. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him tonight. As a matter of fact, I was never in the mood to deal with him. What was I supposed to do though, when he was always there antagonizing me? Berating me, torturing me with his words of hatred?
“Yeah, John, I’m in the kitchen, do you need something?” Of course he did. I didn’t even know why I bothered asking.
“I want,” he belched. “… my whiskey. Now get it!”
I rubbed my temples with my forefingers as I leaned against the counter. My stomach churned from either anxiety or fear…or both, most likely. I grabbed an apple before I poured him another glass. My gaze wandered back and forth between the apple and drink. A small, slow, and equally as cryptic grin appeared on my lips. Hmm, so the evil stepmother from Snow White might have had the right idea with the poison apple thing after all.
But was he really worth the jail time in the end?
A sense of resolve washed over me as I entered the living room. The stench of random, odd body odors assaulted me. I tried not to retch as I covered my mouth, secretly fanning my face in disgust. God, had he even showered this week? My guess was a definite no.
My klutzy feet slipped as a pair of nasty old workbooks appeared in front of me. The jerk, he’d probably put them there on purpose! I struggled to keep the glass level, but still managed to somehow jar his obese frame on the couch. He groaned, his eyes narrowed, looking evil and murderous as I attempted to right myself. Out of pure instinct and self-protection, I backed away, thankful that the spill only ended up being a couple of drops on my own arm.
“What the hell kid, I feel like shit, and you’re going to come in here and knock me around like that? I oughta slap some respect into you while I have the chance.”
I winced internally at his hard words, but externally I held strong, stayed motionless. It was an empty threat. I knew it. The freak had never once raised a hand at me before.
“Sorry John.” I stated robotically, replacing his empty glass with the new, mostly full glass in the process. I stepped back a few seconds later, thankful that our skin never made actual contact. I stilled, even though my heart raced, as he gulped the liquid down in three seconds flat. He slammed it on the end table next to him one second later and wiped his sleeve across his mouth.
Wow…who knew my life would have come to this?
“You look like shit kid. Didn’t you sleep last night?” He nodded at me with his chin. Before I even attempted to answer, he was already turning his attention back towards the television.
I bit down on my tongue. It wasn’t the time for lashing out. It’d only cause trouble that I didn’t want to deal with. I couldn’t stay completely silent either. I wasn’t a pushover, and he was an ass. Besides, he was half the reason I didn’t sleep at night. He was also the reason why I’d been working every single day for the last two months. It was obvious that someone besides my mom had to pick up the slack.
“I worked six hours straight without a break, John. So of course I look like crap.”
“That’s nothing, you little witch.” He sniffed, running his arm under his nose. God, had he been hitting the drugs again? Disgust washed over me. “I’ve worked twelve hours straight before, digging trenches in ninety degree temps. You don’t know the meaning of hard work.”
Yeah, and neither do you, asshole.
My face stayed neutral. My temper, on the other hand, was back and hotter than ever. This piss-ant had some nerve.
“I know, John.” I gritted my teeth, holding back my anger. I had to breathe. And I had to get the hell out of there.
I grabbed my new entertainment magazine off the end table, slipping it under my arm as I circled around the back of the couch. Thankfully, he was too focused on his crime drama show, and his cigarettes, to notice my exit.
I walked by the house phone in the hall on the way to my room, checking for any messages on the old as dirt machine. It was blinking surprisingly, so I clicked the message button. Which lovely creditor was blessing us with their call today? Oh, or better yet, maybe it was the gas and electric company telling us we had our typical two days to come up with the back payment for our bill before they shut it off again. That was always a fun message to hear.
“Hey Em, its Mom. I’m working late again. Jamie’s staying at Grandma’s tonight so go ahead and fix yourself something for dinner, or even order a pizza if you’d like,” I flicked the phone cord as I leaned back against the wall.
“Yeah mom, like we really have money for a pizza…”
“Anyway, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Great, a night alone with my lovely step-douche, just what I needed the night before the first day of my senior year. One good thing was that Jamie wouldn’t be here to see his dad in his drunken state.
Immediately, a noise sounded from my room, knocking me from my daydreaming state. I slipped away from the wall, with my ears on high alert. Shit, I knew that sound, it was my cell phone! I hardly ever left home without it, but this morning I’d barely been awake enough to make it out the door with matching shoes. My cell phone had seriously been the last thing on my mind. But what makes matters worse is that it was now ringing a ringtone that I hadn’t heard in literally four months.
I tripped over one of Jamie’s toys, bracing my hand against the wall as I raced to my room. I grabbed my cell, held it to my ears, and let my breathless words fly out in panic. “Zachary, is that you? Hello?”
There was no response to my pleas. Just silence. I hastily hit the call back number but my ears were struck with nothing but an ‘unavailable at this time’ message.
“What the hell?” I cursed, throwing my phone across the room. Luckily it landed on one of the many piles of dirty laundry that were stacked up along the edge of the wall.
Being a slob had some benefits at least.