2brown-eyes reads :)

Edward Cullen has been MIA over the past few days, and it's made the board worry he's given up the quest to oust his father.

Whatever happens next is anybody's guess!

Alice Knows All

I wake to loud banging.

At first, I think it's him, but the yelling that accompanies it reminds me that I threw away my rent money. I get out of bed with a sigh and open the door until the chain is taut. James is red-faced and I can smell the vodka already.

"I have part of it," I say, pushing four twenties out in my fist. "I'll get the rest tonight."

Instead of just taking the cash, he grabs my wrist, his fingers pinching my skin. His eyes fall to my bare legs. "You'd better, or we'll have to settle it another way."

I snatch my arm back through the slit, and the skin burns from where I twisted it to break his hold. "I said I'll have it."

For the rest of the day, I'm on edge. If I'm not worrying about James coming to fulfill his threat, I'm chastising myself for throwing the cash back at Edward Cullen last night. It was enough to sustain me—at least another two weeks.

I'd love to change my fate, but how do you dig out when you're barely able to keep your nose above water as it is?

I leave for work with determination pumping through my veins, but by the time my shift is more than halfway over, I'm depressed and frustrated. With twenty-seven dollars in tips for five hours of work, it feels hopeless.

"Is something wrong?" I ask the lady who's dining with her husband at a table by the door. She waved me over quite insistently.

"I thought I ordered freshly squeezed juice?" She looks up at me with scorn. "And these eggs are over scrambled. I'd like them redone."

I want to yell at her that it's a fucking diner and we don't do freshly squeezed, but I put on a fake smile instead. "Yes, ma'am," I say through a tight jaw. "Let me fix that for you."

Taking the plate and cup from her table, I turn my back before allowing my face to fall. But I'm met with more customers who're in need. A family of nine is stretched between two tables, a grandmother, mother, father, and six kids, and they've already been a lot to handle.

"Excuse me," the mother says as I pass.

I pause, smiling her way. "Can I get you something else?"

"Would you be a dear and take this," she says, removing her child from the syrup-covered highchair. "It's become a lot of mess."

"I'd be happy to." I shift the cup of juice between my arm and body, so I have a free hand to drag the wooden chair behind me.

"Let me get that." Rose sees me coming and rushes to grab the plate and chair. "What do you need?"

"A redo on the eggs, please." I pour out the juice and toss the cup into the bus bin. "I'm going to clean this before it dries and becomes impossible to remove."

"You better be glad I love you," Rose says, taking a deep breath before approaching the window where a cursing Charlie mans the griddle.

I hear him yelling at her as I drag the chair down the hall to the musty bathroom. I could use the sink in the kitchen, but that would require me to be in the crosshairs, so I opt out.

The chair is cleaned quickly enough, and I'm able to stack it on the other two on the way back out to the floor. I notice the family is getting into a large passenger van outside, so I grab the bin and make my way to their two tables. The mess left behind is to be expected, and so is the tip on a day like today.

Five whole dollars.

The couple leave while I'm bussing those tables, and the woman speaks loudly as they pass. "I wish we could've been more generous, but the service was the worst."

My jaw clenches.

But I continue the grunt work that comes with my job.

It's not my fault Charlie serves overdone eggs and juice out of a can, but it is what it is. When I finally move to clean their table, I find a wrinkled dollar bill.

With only an hour of my shift left, despair assaults me. I've cut it close before, but I've never been quite this desperate. Thirty-three dollars isn't about to placate James, and I don't know if he'll try to follow through on his insinuation or not.

Once the tables are clean, I put the bin on the lower shelf behind the counter and excuse myself to the bathroom. I don't look at Rose for fear my voice will break, and I keep my face down, so she won't see the distress in my expression.

The girl in the mirror looks at least five years older than her age of twenty-two, and I attribute it to the shitty life I've led so far. My druggie mother died of an overdose when I was seven, and after that I skipped from foster home to foster home, never quite able to find that forever home that every child wishes for.

At eighteen, I was shoved into the big, wild world and told I was capable of being anything I wanted. I never wanted any of this, to lose my virginity at fourteen to an older foster "brother" or to run away numerous times over a "father" trying to visit me at night. I never wanted to live in a ratty motel beholden to a pervert who probably has a camera hidden in my shower.

I jump when a knock sounds on the door, turning on the faucet and splashing rusty-colored cold water on my face. "Coming." There are no napkins, so I wipe my hands on my apron and pull open the door. "Rose. What did you need?" I avert my gaze so I won't see the moment she realizes I've been crying.

"Charlie wants you."

I jerk my eyes back to hers. "Why?"

"He's back," she says, holding up a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. "And he gave me this just leave him alone. He wants you to serve him, and he's already greased Charlie's palm."

"That no good…" I'm brought up short as we exit the hall.

Ouch. I didn't plan the cliffy, but we all love a good one here and there, yeah?

A little info on our B, so maybe we can understand why she has her guard up.

I hope everyone who celebrates has a WONDERFUL THANKSGIVING and then a safe and successful Black Friday if you plan on shopping.

See ya Monday :)