Freaking Off the Grid Read online

  Suddenly, he feared he might not be able to handle the excitement of finding her, that maybe his stomach wouldn’t come up again, but that his heart might just stop.

  She’s not here. It won’t be her. I need to get some food and start my search again. I just have to make sure. It won’t be her.

  His stomach calmed a little and he slid into an empty booth. His butt went into shock when he plopped onto the seat made to look like plump leather cushions, but were actually hard plastic. Probably to keep customers from making themselves too comfortable.

  He reached for a menu against the wall, but his hands were shaking like crazy, so he flattened the menu against the tabletop and held it there. At least she wouldn’t worry he was a drug addict. A nut case, maybe, but not an addict.

  Jamison made a feeble attempt to read his choices. No use.

  He took a deep breath, then another, and looked up.

  A waitress noticed him and started in his direction. Her uniform was old-fashioned, with the thick, white apron and nurse-like hat, but her Middle-Eastern features and toasted brown skin were as out of place as the music.

  “Hi.” She held a pen to her order pad and waited.

  “Hi,” was all he managed.

  “You know what you want?”

  He shifted in his seat but the plastic hurt his road-weary butt. Concrete would have been more comfortable.

  She put her hands on her hips and he realized she had an excuse for being impatient; she looked about eight months pregnant.

  Jamison took a five from his wallet and put it on the table so she’d know he wasn’t going to be a waste of time.

  “Actually, I’m looking for someone. Maybe you can help me.”

  She put her pen behind her ear and took the five, tucked it in her bra. “You’d better order something too. They don’t like people just coming in to rest.”

  “Yeah. Right. Okay.” He leaned over the menu. “Anything you recommend?”

  “Cheese fries. Hamburger. Shake.” She started writing it down. “Chocolate or Vanilla?”

  “Chocolate.”

  “Now, who you looking for?”

  She took his menu and stretched to put it back against the wall. She was short, so her bundle of joy squished a little against the tabletop. He imagined the kid coming out flat on one side.

  “I’m looking for Skye Ozunian. Her dad says she’s working today. Could you point her out?”

  She laughed and backed off the table. “You don’t know what she looks like?”

  “No. Well, kind of. I think I’ll know her when I see her, but just in case I don’t...you know.” Boy did he sound stupid.

  She stopped laughing. “Why are you looking for her?”

  He shut his eyes, looking around the darkness in his skull for any of the little conversations he’d been practicing. They were gone, like someone had cleaned house, or maybe all those plans had been puked into the bushes.

  “I just need to find her. We used to know each other, in a different life, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She walked quickly through the kitchen doors.

  His heart plunged. Was she going to warn Skye that some nut was looking for her and she should run and hide?

  She appeared again, carrying a large tray covered with plates. Her next load was drinks for another table. He considered pulling out all his hair while she took orders.

  Finally, she brought him a glass of water.

  “Here you go. What’s your name?” She dropped her voice to ask the question.

  “Jamison. Jamison Shaw. She wouldn’t know it.”

  She frowned at him and headed back into the kitchen. She was in there a long time. He imagined her telling Skye what he’d said, watched for a girl to peek out at him.

  The waitress came back, this time with his food. While she placed his plate and shake on the table, he looked at her name tag, so he could thank her.

  Skye.

  His jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly. “But your dad was…”

  “White?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My mother is not.”

  Then the world paused while they looked at each other. Her dark eyes bore into his, searching. He saw absolutely nothing of his Skye reaching out to him. No twinkle in her eye. No one waving from behind the shiny black glass. But what if she was in there and he was just too blind to see it?

  “I’m really sorry, Jamison Shaw, but I don’t know you.”

  He had been so sure that he’d recognize her, but if he couldn’t see something familiar about her, how could she possibly recognize something in him?

  “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He tried not to let his disappointment show, but he was freaking out, worried his Skye was standing in front of him and there was no way to reach her. During the entire journey from Colorado, he’d fought hard to keep negative scenarios from playing out in his head, and now he wished he had prepared himself better.

  He finally allowed his gaze to drop away from her face and it got snagged on Skye Ozunian’s stomach.

  A protective hand tried to cover the little ball. “And I’m absolutely certain she doesn’t know you either.”

  “You know it’s a girl?” He just wanted to keep talking for a minute. To make sure.

  “Yes.” She backed up a step. “The father didn’t send you, did he?” Her hands tightened on the tray and she looked prepared to use it to beat the hell out of him if he answered wrong.

  “The Father? You mean...God?”

  Had someone already told her about her past life?

  “Oh, great. A missionary come to save my soul. You’d better pay me for the food now, buddy, cause you’re not getting any refills and I’m not coming back to your table.” She held out one hand and didn’t budge until he put a twenty in it. “Why don’t you go into the city? There are plenty of people there you can save.”

  He watched her walk away.

  Still nothing.

  With more than a few eyes on him, he tried to act casual and make a dent in the food. He managed to finish off the shake, and everything felt like it was going to stay down.

  He was halfway to his car when he realized the disappointment had drained the kind of energy a milkshake couldn’t replace. He felt beat down. Too much adrenaline, too little sleep. And now he was terrified.

  What if Skye Geddes doesn’t seem familiar either?

  No. He couldn’t think that way. He couldn’t afford to. Because his Skye was still out there, and she was still in danger.

  And her address was burning a hole in his pocket.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It wasn’t unusual for Skye to feel like she was being watched, but this time it was different. Closer, maybe. More menacing, definitely. She hurried back and forth, dropping drinks at A3 and clearing dishes from F1, and felt eyes move with her from the other side of the murky plate-glass window.

  Had Blair the Creep discovered she was still working there?

  Since there was nothing she could do about it, she shook off the worry and concentrated on clearing the table. The bus boy was still toasted, but she wasn’t helping for his sake. She just wanted fresh butts at her tables. Every tip counted, especially when she was getting cheated out of half her share.

  “You touch one more dish and I’m telling Daddy why you’re doing Hilbert’s job.”

  She didn’t need to look to know Jessica stood behind her. She could hear the snap and pop of the other girl’s pink plastic-like bubblegum between words.

  One day, she was going to shove that gum up the witch’s nose and tell Fernando he’d solve his turnover problem by firing his daughter. One day, she’d hit the jackpot, or get discovered as an artist, or have another job drop in her lap. Only none of that seemed likely while she spent all her time at Fernando’s Café.

  She’d be there for freaking ever.

  She tempted fate by continuing to fill her tray with dishes and dirty napkins and walked away as if she hadn’t
heard a thing. She needed a fresh, hot and soapy bar towel and imagined walking back to the table, finding Jessica still standing there, and shoving it between her shiny red lips.

  Just before she rounded the edge of the counter to head into the kitchen, she looked out at the parking lot. Three cars had the silhouettes of a single person in them. Was one watching her? Had the old ghost been right?

  She had to remind herself it was spring. Nothing odd about someone sitting in their car when the temps weren’t dangerous. No need to take up the old Scot’s paranoid habits.

  She backed into the kitchen door and turned as it swung open for her.

  “Sorry, Skye. Which table?” Hilbert already had a wet rag in his hands. He looked nauseous.

  “F1. Smile at Jessica, just to piss her off, would you?”

  “Si.” He was already grinning. Still green, but smiling like he meant it.

  Lucky bugger. He had rich parents, didn’t need or want the job. Hilbert could moon Jessica and Fernando and have his parents find him another gig in a week or two.

  Skye dumped the dishes and went to the back of the kitchen, slid into a narrow space between shiny wire racks filled with paper supplies, and sat down on a five gallon bucket of frosting. She pulled her sandwich out of the shadows and took a huge bite. She was starving.

  The bread was drying out around the edges, but the middle was soggy—and tasted like soap!

  Jessica.

  Just as she spat her precious food into the trash, Richard, the pastry chef, came around the corner with a plate piled high with mashed potatoes and gravy, a thick slab of turkey, and a slice of his blackberry pie.

  Aw, blackberry!

  Richard didn’t have to pay for his meals like she did.

  He nodded to her and took a bite of potatoes, still standing.

  “You may as well sit here. I’m done.” She started to get up, but Richard’s hand pushed down on her shoulder. The hand was holding two forks.

  “You know, I think these potatoes are too salty. What do you think?” He held out the clean fork and then the plate.

  “I’m not going to eat your lunch, Richard. Thanks, though.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you think I’d stoop to eating Fernando’s cooking, you’re mistaken. This is for you. Blackberry Pie Day, sweetheart.” He winked and thrust the plate at her again. This time she took it. She was just too famished to fight him. “And if you don’t have time to finish it, don’t leave it where Fussica can find it. When I saw a bottle of soap in her hands, I knew she must be up to something. She certainly wasn’t going to clean.”

  Skye could only manage a smile. There was no time to laugh, only to chew and swallow. Luckily, mashed potatoes didn’t take much chewing.

  Richard turned his back to her and leaned against the corner, his wide backside only inches away from her elbow.

  “Is Skye back there?”

  It was Jessica! If she saw her with a plate full of food, or even an empty plate, the witch would have twenty bucks taken out of her check!

  “I think she’s in the ladies room.” Richard didn’t move.

  Skye rolled up the turkey and got it tucked into her cheeks in four bites.

  “She pissed off some customers. I’m sure she lost a couple of tips.”

  “How gallant of you to cover for her, Jessica.”

  The pie went down in six. No time to even notice the berries.

  A minute later, Richard turned back. “Poor thing. She didn’t know what to do with a compliment.” His brows rose when he saw how clean Skye had left the plate.

  At least she hadn’t licked it.

  “Thank you so much, Richard. I’d better get back out there. The pie was divine.” With a wet, clean towel, she scrubbed her face pink.

  Skye looked out the window as she returned to the dining room. Two lurkers were still out there. Well, let them enjoy the show. She had a Taser in her purse and she’d learned how to defend herself—a must when living so near Vegas. She’d worry after her shift was over.

  As Skye turned, she caught a glimpse of the twenty Jessica was taking from A3.

  No way. No freaking way.

  “Thanks Jessica. Leaving a twenty on the table is too big of a temptation for anyone walking by.”

  Jessica straightened with a snap.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Fernando walked up behind his daughter and frowned.

  “Jessica was just getting my twenty off the table, so people wouldn’t be tempted by it. I’ll take it now, Jess. And don’t worry, I’ll add it to the common jar. I promise.”

  “It was only a ten. I’ll put it there myself.”

  “Oh? I think you’d better check. I was standing right here and I’m sure it was a twenty.”

  Jessica peeked in her apron and started shuffling through bills.

  Please, don’t let her have a ten. Please don’t let her have a ten.

  Finally the witch pulled one out.

  “See? I told you. Just a ten.” She grinned at her dad.

  Trust a con artist to always have the right change. But there was no way Skye was going to let her get away with robbing her to her face. Not this time.

  “But it was folded. And it had a little pink line on it. You know how I notice pink.”

  Jessica’s eyes bulged, stating clearly how much Skye was going to pay for embarrassing her in front of her dad. “Nope. I didn’t see a twenty.”

  Skye took a step toward her. “Mind if I look?”

  “Hey now. None of that.” Fernando held a hand out to stop her, like he was protecting his poor, helpless daughter. “We’re a trusting family here. We expect trust in return.”

  Jessica beamed up at her dad until he frowned and said, “Come with me for a minute, honey.”

  As she passed, Skye snatched the ten out of her fingers and Jessica glared back at her while her father dragged her back into his office. The way that man loved his money, and everyone else’s, there was no way a twenty dollar bill with a little pink mark would be in the can when they split up the tips that night. Skye would have to settle for Jessica not getting it. In fact, the little witch was out ten bucks too. It was almost justice.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Orders were up and Skye hurried back and forth between tables. Covering all the tables was nothing new, but she didn’t resent it. If she was doing Jessica’s work, that meant Jessica wasn’t in her face or standing in her way.

  Skye expected the lazy girl to try getting the ten bucks back from her somehow, but it couldn’t be done. The witch already took every penny she could. But for a second, she wondered if Jessica was also socking cash away to get out of town someday—just like Skye—but she couldn’t imagine them having anything more than their ages in common.

  There was a new butt in F1!

  As she got closer, Skye’s heart began to race. It wasn’t just any butt. It was Jeremy Newland’s. She imagined him wearing a nice chrome suit of armor, working his way down to one knee on the sticky floor, then offering to whisk her away on his motorcycle before the Garzas could think of a new way to screw her over.

  Jeremy’s family would buy them a lovely home in the mountains where she would no longer sweat her life away in the Nevada summers, but spend fairy tale days painting and being waited on. Though she’d settle for someone just buying her some paint.

  “Hello, Jeremy.”

  “Well, hi, Skye.”

  Cute, the way he acted like he didn’t expect to see her there.

  “Do you know what you want?”

  “Loaded question, isn’t it?”

  She laughed, even though he wasn’t as funny as he seemed to think. He’d get funnier, as they grew older together. Surely.

  “You! Skye!” Jessica swooped down on her from behind and the daydream plopped on the floor like a scoop of ice cream. “Daddy wants to see you. Now.” She smiled at Jeremy and pushed Skye out of her way. “I’m supposed to cover your tables.”

  If Jere
my hadn’t shown up, Jessica would have let the customers rot.

  Skye took a deep breath and sighed. She didn’t want Jeremy to rescue her. Not really. She planned to do that all by herself. But keeping Jeremy from falling for Jessica would make her day.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, Jeremy.” Skye walked away, as sexy as she could manage.

  “I don’t think so.” Jessica laughed.

  Skye turned back, to say something Jeremy would consider clever, but was distracted by something across the street. A familiar form entering the bank. It was Blair the Creep, the joke of a foster father she’d run away from over two months before. She didn’t know he banked on this side of town. Or maybe he was just there to spy on her.

  Good thing he didn’t know his name was on Skye’s savings account. Or did he?

  Forty-three hundred dollars sat in that bank in her account, the account she couldn’t open without an adult co-signer. He didn’t know about it though, because she’d forged his name. But just the idea of that scuzzball so near her money had her blood singing through her veins, like an alarm.

  No way could she run over and show herself. She planned to never speak to the man again. But she had nothing to worry about—they wouldn’t hand her money over if the signatures didn’t match, right? And since the statements were sent to her post office box, there was no way he knew anything about the account.

  She tried to calm down. As soon as Fernando was through with her, she’d take a break and run over to check on things. Maybe she’d take her money out and deposit it in a different bank.

  She couldn’t wait until July, when she’d be 18 and could open an account in her name only, get an apartment and a real life, and do it all very, very far from Nevada. She wouldn’t mess up her graduation for anything, though. She was so close. Another six weeks of the Garzas and she’d be gone.

  Fernando’s office was a poorly lit mess. Skye couldn’t imagine how many things he must be neglecting just from the lack of order. Of course, it was possible Jessica had thrown a tantrum and tossed his office. Possible, but not likely.

  Fernando leaned back in his dilapidated maroon chair with the stuffing coming out one side. He was even too cheap to buy duct tape, apparently.