CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

"I wanted the whole world or nothing."

~Charles Bukowski

PAST

SCARLETT

Gram was not happy about my decision to get a job. 

Dante less so.  He was irate, predictably belligerent about it.  He threw such a fit initially that Gram ordered him to go for a run. 

When we were alone, she tried several different tactics to get me to change my mind.  She was a formidable woman, not used to hearing no.  And when she did hear the word, she didn't even consider accepting it.  It was nothing but a challenge to her.   

It was the closest we'd come to really butting heads.  That alone almost made me cave. 

"Darling," she said with her most charming smile.  "We only just got you here.  I was looking forward to your company."

It was the principle of the thing.  I would not, could not, end up like my parents, like my grandmother.   

"I've made up my mind," I told her stubbornly.  "It's not a big deal.  Just a few hours on school nights, a few more on weekends.  Now that I've quit drama, I have plenty of free time."

She tried a different tactic.  I knew she would.  "I wouldn't get your hopes up.  It's the wrong season for part-time jobs.  I guarantee no one is hiring." 

I swallowed hard.  "I already have one.  The manager of the 5 and Diner hired me on the spot.  I start on Monday."

Her eyes narrowed on me.  "It's quite unnecessary.  Why on earth would you need a job?  Any need you have, I'm happy to provide for.  Just tell me what it is you're earning money for.  I'll buy it for you, darling!"

I gave her brutal honesty.  Not because I wanted to and not because I wasn't grateful.  It was a matter of self-worth.  If I was ever going to get some, I knew I had to earn it.  "I can't be a Durant charity case, not more than I can help.  At least if I get a job I'm trying to take care of myself."

She gave me the coldest look I'd ever seen her aim my way.  It made me shiver and instantly want to take back whatever I'd said that put that look on her face.

She was a force of nature like that.  What she felt, you felt.  If she was happy, the world knew joy.  When she was angry . . . yeah, you felt that too.

And when she was disappointed in you, you felt like absolute shit.   

"I'm sorry that you thought this was charity," she said with haughty chill.  "You thought I felt some sense of duty toward you?  And here I thought I was doing it out of love.  Silly me."  Her tone was scathing.  A vacuum of disdain, it sucked all warmth from the room.  Took my stubborn pride and left me feeling ashamed and alone. 

I was out of my league.  A trashcan girl could not hope to go head to head against a queen.    

I shook it off, shed the feeling.  I would not back down on this, not even against Gram.  "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry it c-c-c-came out that that way.  I'm not u-u-u-ungrateful.  B-b-b-but I'm k-k-k-keeping the j-job."

The stutter did her in.  Her hard expression went soft, and she let out a soft, "Oh, my darling girl.  Oh, I'm sorry.  I lost my temper.  You see now where Dante gets it.  I won't stop you from having this job, if you really think it will make you happier.  I just worry about you."

I wasn't sure if I was relieved or completely humiliated that I'd won because of pity.    

But I took it all the same. 

Gram was one obstacle, Dante another. 

Over the years, we'd learned to pick our battles with each other.  What that meant was basically whoever cared more won, whoever cared less compromised. 

I just assumed I'd be winning this one.  I didn't count on him freaking out, his hellish temper coming out to play.

"No," he said to me first thing as he came back from his run.  He was sweaty and agitated.  He looked good enough to eat. 

But it was the wrong approach.

"I already have the job.  I was hired to wait tables.  You're just going to have to get used the idea."

"No.  I'm putting my foot down about this one." 

A fight it was.  "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." 

Hello, temper.  It's me, Scarlett.  What are we going to do about this bossy son of a bitch? 

Likely nothing productive.  Still, we'd try. 

"What the hell is your problem?  And when did you get the idea you could tell me what to do?"

"Why the hell do you want a job?  If you need something, just tell Gram." 

I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw it.  "Spoken like a true trust fund baby.  I need to start making my own money."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?" 

He was right in my face, leaning down to me. 

I met him glare for glare. 

"Why do you always have to push it?  I don't sleep at night, worrying about you since the attack.  And now you want to go off on your own, for hours a day, and for what?" 

That softened me a bit.  "He's dead, Dante.  He can't bother me or anyone else ever again." 

"And what about that fucking cop?  If he gets wind of you working as a waitress, he'll bother you every day."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  Now there he had a point.  "I'm sorry you're worried, but I'm not quitting.  I can't live my life in fear of what ifs, and I can't be a Durant charity case for the rest of it either.  I need to be more independent."