Dream Runners (ON HOLD)

Part 2

Work started well, though there was a man at the bar who kept looking at me. He had a hood pulled up on his head, but the sleeves were cut off the hoody. Tattoo's lined his bulging arms, his hands were broad and looked well worked, the knuckles calloused in a way that told me he was a fan of using his fists. I drew the conclusion that I'd keep an eye on him.

As my shift drew to a close, one of the gal's I worked with-I was horrible with names, and since they never got mine right I never bothered to remember theirs-told me the boss wanted to speak to me. I gave last call, nodding to her that I'd be back in a moment, and made my way to his office. Mr. Hendricks was an asshole, but he'd given me a job here wen I didn't even have any official ID so I could get passed my issues. If he'd stop propositioning me that'd be wonderful.... His 'friend' (more like creepy supervisor) Mr. McCoy stood in the back, leaning in the corner so his face was shadowed. I sat without waiting for the invite to do so, looking at Hendricks expectantly.

"Miss Sorenson, how are you this evening?" I didn't bother to reply, and he didn't wait for me to do so. It was pointless to try to get a word in with this man. "You're the last person hired according the records. Due to extenuating circumstances, I had a favor I owe called in. They need a position here, and I can't afford to be over staffed."

What. The. Fuck.

"All right...." I waited, knowing there had to be more.

"This is your last day of work. Your two weeks severance will be deposited in your account by the end of the month." He picked up some papers, setting them next to his laptop, dissmissing me just like that. I sat dumbfounded, all my relief from earlier leaching away.... I knew I should have been looking for another job! This had been to convenient, to helpful-I should know better! Always have a contingency plan-rule of two applies to jobs when you're in my position, not just shit!

Standing I slammed the door open into the wall, not bothering to shut it behind me, ignoring the indignant shout from Hendricks. I didn't even know the mans first name-and he didn't deserve the title of Mister. That was supposed to be a sign of respect and I had none for him. Or anyone else for that matter.

I shoved through the bar without seeing-passing people as they left. A man dragging his friend to the car, a group of girls laughing and cackling as they stumbled into a taxi, a couple in a heavy make out session not quite out of sight-I ignored it all. The night was dark, cold and clear. The moon was but a sliver, the stars dull with light pollution. I needed out of here. I wished that I could be within walking distance of the ocean-the cool breeze, crashing waves, clear starlight.... It called to me. Cleared my head more times than not, especially after rough nights. But I had no way to get there, my motorcycle dad had given me on my sixteenth being back at the house. Fuck it, I didn't have to work tomorrow-and the run would do me good. Taking off at a dead sprint I dodged through alleys, passed the oak tree, deserted streets and parks flying by as though the devil was on my heels. For all purposes he was, my own personal devil: Failure. This was my fault. I should have seen this coming, I should have trusted my gut-but I'd been so desperate to get out from under the thumb of my parents that I'd grabbed the very first job I could, despite my gut telling me Hendricks was not to be trusted. I'd gone there, I'd worked there, I'd done everything asked of me. I'd been sexually harassed on a daily basis, had to hound the secretary for my paychecks, not gotten along with my coworkers, yet never once had I thought to look for another job. If I got the first one I applied at, what are the chances of me getting others? Why didn't I keep looking for a contingency plan? A fall back? Something?

Finally making it to my apartment, I unlocked my door and snatched up my helmet from where it rested, pausing a moment to think if I should grab a jacket. Deciding I didn't want road burn, and hated being cold, I quickly changed into fitted dark burgundy leather pants and a black camisole with black combat boots. I almost forgot my leather jacket, but snatched it up at the last moment, slamming and locking my door behind me as I practically fell back down the stairs and flung myself on to my bike. As soon as my baby vibrated to life between my legs, something inside me eased. This was where I belonged-when I wasn't killing monsters or struggling with daily life or fixing the damn bike, I was on it. Riding to nowhere and everywhere. The wind. The air. The starlight. The feeling of life flying by. The adrenaline pumping through my veins as I wove between cars. It all blended together into an exhilarating cocktail that I drank by the gallon, needing it more than anything. The further I got from Charleston the clearer the stars became and the fewer cars there were. Within the hour, I was pulling up to a small parking lot, killing the engine as I dropped the kickstand and dismounted, pulling of my helmet in the same motion. The crashing of waves and smell of the sea filled my senses, calming me further. The need to run settled, hibernating until the next time it was woken, lulled to sleep by the pounding surf.