Chapter 178

An hour to go and I get to leave.

It’s been a day I won’t forget, and I am dead on my feet. My head is swimming from lack of sleep … completely saturated with illness. I am sicker than a dying dog, trying not to cough and sneeze every two minutes, and that letch has rubbed up against me for the umpteenth time while apparently walking to the refrigerator. I cringe as his sweaty clunky body presses me against the sink again, painfully banging my pelvic bone against the steel ridge that sticks out, and I know it’s going to leave a bruise. It more than riles my temper which has been hanging by a thread for hours; completely snaps it when this time a hand slides across my arse as he does so, copping a grope and leaning against me as he cages me in. I freeze, breathing out slowly to control the rage burning inside of me and try not to react.

‘Cosy in here, huh?’ He whispers hoarsely into the back of my hair as everything in me goes on ultimate high alert at having a man wedged behind me. Anxiety biting and clamping my chest down heavily as my limbs tighten defensively.

All day I have been elbow deep in dirty water and greasy plates, inhaling overly fried food and choking on smoke from the grill by the back door. All day being barked at and yelled at because I wasn’t fast enough, in his way, or generally there to be abused, and now he has the nerve to slide a hand up my dress.

That’s all it takes. One little tiny insult to the mass of injuries I have suffered for months … metaphorically of course.

One creepy slimy hand inching up my naked legs and between my thighs as he moves closer to my stiffened posture, breathing down my neck like some escaped psychopath and I finally lose my shit in major Camilla style.

I can’t stand people standing so close behind me, and I definitely cannot stand men thinking I’m a free grope whenever they have the horn.

I’m so sick of this shit!

I turn on him violently, bringing the pot out of the suds filled lukewarm water I have my hands in, and smack him in the face with it as I turn aggressively, catching him on his big ugly pointy beak. It’s aimed but I act like it’s accidental.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction that results in an instant messy explosion of his nose as he drops to his knees and starts cradling his face through muffled grunts. Blood pouring beautifully down his chin as though he just got a facial period.

‘Sorry I didn’t see you there.’ I snap sarcastically, knowing without a doubt I just screwed myself over and I am so fired. It’s just that after seeing Alexi this morning, and dealing with all his shit, this is the last thing on Earth I have the ability to deal with anymore. The boy riled me up tight and put me down to uncoil at whoever was closest for the backlash. I’ll blame him for this … he deserves the blame for everything that goes wrong with me nowadays.

‘You fucking bitch! … You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!’ He squeals like a pig as he crawls around the floor in sheer shock of what I just did, grabbing for something to stem the flow. I wish I could say I felt a little remorse, but I don’t.

I dry my hands slowly and carefully on my apron, remaining calm and precise with my mannerisms, while he kneels in his own bloody mess and tries to stop the blood with a dirty rag from the nearby counter I saw him using on spilled fish guts earlier. Flapping it around and clawing at his face as tears and pain envelop his skull. I feel absolutely no remorse whatsoever.

In fact, it feels freeing and lifts everything bad about my sullen temperament today.

Lorraine ducks her head over the server counter and stares in as Lacey appears at the kitchen door blinking at the commotion. I honestly never saw the attraction between them, Lacey as his wife. She’s short, round and grey-haired with a pinched face and way too many wrinkles if she is the same age as him. I doubt he porks her anymore as even for him, she is hideous.

I know half his customers can hear him wailing like a little bitch and I should get out while I can, but I have gone past the point of caring. I think I did that four hours ago when he ‘accidentally’ brushed my breast with his hand when he reached over me for a saltshaker. This has been a slow build all day of having enough, fuelled by the memories of a grey-eyed Carrero when he woke up my inner beast.

‘Well you should learn to keep your hands to yourself. I’m not Lorraine, and I am not interested in letting your putrid tiny dick anywhere near me when Lacey is out of the shop. Oh, by the way … I quit. You can ram your job up your arse you sanctimonious slimy wanker.’

I lift that defiant chin, finding a morsel of Camilla pride inside of me, English accent on full assault despite them never hearing it and push past the hulking great flab of a man as he cowers on the floor, over dramatizing his injury. It’s a broken nose, hardly the end of the world, and I have had way more painful things to cope with than that. He’s a big guy; he should have a better pain threshold than this.

Lacey looks about set to self-implode, her face puce with impending explosion, and is more interested in glaring at Lorraine than what I just did to her so-called better half or my change in accent. Choking back fury as I swipe my coat and bag from behind her, I make my way past to leave them to it.

‘Lorraine has been fucking Joe?’ She spits it at me as though looking for confirmation to what she just heard, complete shock on that manly gob of hers, and I nod with a disgusted look plastered on my face.

‘Gross, isn’t it? I don’t know which one repulses me more, and the sight of the two of them banging in the larder every Thursday put me off eating from here ever again. Guess I won’t be back. Oh, maybe think about throwing out the frozen pig in the freezer, Lorraine let him fuck her up the arse over it. I’m not sure if the pig joined in, but it certainly sounded like it.’ I smile innocently and take great delight in the beetroot hue that floods her face as a vein pops out at me from her throbbing forehead.

I am done.

That was like a little cherry on top!

I hightail it out the back exit to avoid the customers and Lorraine witnessing all out horrific murder and smirk when I hear Lacey erupt in a demonic rage as the door swings shut behind me. I would love to be a fly on the wall when she exacts her revenge on his cheating arse, but I now need to figure out what I am doing for cash. Closing them out as the cool New York air fans the heat out of my bones and brings my attention to how sweaty and greasy I am. I need a shower, badly, and a change of clothes.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the air for a moment until harsh reality hits home and bursts my little momentary happier bubble.

I have no job, probably won’t see a dime of this week’s wages after that and no way to pay my rent in three days’ time. I have three dollars to my name from the bottom of my bag and nothing worthy of selling in my arsenal of personal effects to even scrape together money in a rush. I can’t even pay for the subway home and I am nowhere near able to walk that far back to my apartment. When I do get there, I have no food anymore, thanks to a screwed refrigerator turning what I had bad and I haven’t eaten all day due to feeling unwell. It’s probably why I am so light-headed, on top of the heat.

I throw on my jacket and put my head down and head towards the route that leads to home. Not sure how I am going to get there unless I walk the few miles. It’s not like I have a choice and I have to keep my meagre three dollars for emergencies.

I resign myself to the fact this is happening and head homewards.