Winter King

Chapter 2

2

Amber

“I’m sorry, Amber, but there’s no other way. I need to fire you.”

I stared at Howard, not believing what I was hearing. “But…why?” I croaked. I knew I hadn’t been employee of the year, but I was sure I didn’t suck either.

“It’s not just you,” my boss said. Or should I call him my ex-boss? “Early this morning, I let Sabrina go, and tonight I’ll have to do the same with Rick.” He gestured around the main seating area of the restaurant. “It’s lunch time and there’s no one here. From what the owner told me, he’ll have to fire half of the staff.”

“s**t,” I muttered.

The small, local Italian restaurant was never a big hit, but in the past few months, things had dwindled fast. For some reason, people just didn’t come here anymore, and I felt bad for the owner. I also felt bad for Rick. He was almost seventy years old. He had been working here for over twenty years. After this gig, I doubted he would find something else.

As much as I hated being fired, I was one of the youngest here. I was also healthy and optimistic—at least on most days. I was sure I would find something soon to pay my bills.

I unknotted the apron from around my waist and handed it to Howard.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his tone upset.

“It’s okay.” I tried smiling, but at that moment, I wasn’t feeling much like it.

“Take this.” Howard grabbed a brown bag from the table beside us. “It’s your favorite, chicken parmigiana. I thought you should have a treat before leaving like this.”

I took the bag from him, and this time my small smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Howard rocked on the balls of his feet. “Take care, Amber.”

“You too,” I whispered.

This was it. Another page of my life turned. Another phase that had come to an end and would hopefully lead to a new beginning. Seeing as I was only twenty-one and had had so many new beginnings, I was starting to think things weren’t going so well for me.

With the brown bag in hand, I exited the restaurant.

And the façade crumbled.

I was optimistic most of the time, yes, but right now I felt like a lost puppy shuffling down the street with his tail between his legs.

My life had never been easy. My father had been a quiet man with barely any emotions. When my mother died when I was fourteen, he shut down completely. It was like living with a stranger.

Then a couple of years later, out of the blue, he introduced me to a new woman—a total witch. She hated me almost as much as I hated her. She convinced him to move away and start over, but without me. So at seventeen, I was abandoned. At first, I tried moving on, staying in my hometown, but neighbors became nosy, people whispered behind my back, and social services came after me, wanting to put me in the system. I did my best to dodge them, but once my eighteenth birthday came around, I left too.

I left, and I never looked back.

I settled in Brooksville, this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Though some people were a little wary of me at first—I mean, what eighteen-year-old girl showed up in a small town by herself?—most treated me well.

That had been three years ago.

With a sigh, I crossed the street and went about my business. I wouldn’t go down memory lane, and I wouldn’t go down a sad path. I would remain optimistic through all of this journey. I had to.

Otherwise I would break down.

I inhaled the chilly air, welcoming the clarity it brought to my head. It was mid-November, and the temperatures were dropping fast. I didn’t really like winter; that was why I had moved from New Hampshire to Georgia. It still got cold here, but not as much as the north.

Half a block later, I walked by a narrow alley between two shops. Movement caught my eye. I halted and saw an old man rummaging through the trash cans, a piece of orange peel in his hand. The man turned his eyes to me, and his ghastly face sent a pang through my chest. It wasn’t just the face. It was everything. His clothes were in tatters, he probably hadn’t had a shower in weeks, and his legs were almost as thin as my arms. The man was cold and starving.

Without hesitating, I approached him. “Here.” I showed him the brown bag I had received at the restaurant. “You’ll like it.” The man’s eyes became huge saucers. “Take it.” I pushed the bag toward him.

His hands shook as he took the bag from me. “Thank you,” he said, his voice frail, just like the rest of him.

The food wasn’t enough, not for me, so I took off my jacket. It was a thin suede jacket that barely did anything. I would feel a little cold without it, but I would survive. “Take this too.” I pushed the jacket to him.

“No, I can’t take that,” the old man said, his eyes huge again.

“I insist.” I pushed the jacket toward him again.

He hesitated but grabbed the jacket. “Thank you, miss. God bless you.”

I offered him a smile, then walked out of the alley so he could put on the jacket and eat in peace.

Perhaps I had just had a huge blow on my day, but it always warmed my heart when I could help out others. That meant that all was not lost yet.

With renewed determination, I ignored the cold and trudged to my favorite coffee shop. I usually ordered a latte and one of their famous croissants, but since I had to mind my budget even more now, I asked for a black coffee.

With the coffee in hand—aka, my lunch—I took a seat at a table by the large glass windows, pulled my long black hair in a messy bun, and started playing with my phone. Instead of browsing through f*******: and i********:, I went directly to job hunting websites and searched for local gigs.

That was the disadvantage of living in a small town: there weren’t many opportunities around. I saw a few things that would require I worked overtime with a measly salary. I also saw lots of manual jobs that required strength and agility. At five foot four, and with my small frame that could be carried by the wind, I wouldn’t survive a day.

I let out a long sigh and looked out the window. It was the middle of my first day without a job. I couldn’t lose hope just yet.

Despite trying to avoid my apartment, I couldn’t wander around town all day long, especially not without a jacket. Besides, I was tired and emotionally exhausted. I had to go home, take a nice, long shower, and sleep. Tomorrow, after a good rest, I would regroup my thoughts and start a new search.

Praying Kimberly wasn’t home, I opened the door and stepped in.

“What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”

I inhaled deeply and tried to not let the image in front of me bother me too much. Kimberly stood in the middle of our tiny living room, wearing only a bra and panties, with a lit cigarette in one hand and nail clippers in the other. There were two empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of her, just beside all her dead nails.

Her fake blonde hair was pulled into several foam rollers, and her makeup could be seen from three miles away.

I closed the door behind me. “What did we say about smoking inside the apartment?”

She shrugged and took another long puff. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

I glanced at the minuscule black dress over our torn couch. “And I see you’re going somewhere early.”

“It’s just a party,” she said with a smile. Kimberly was all about parties, all freaking day long. “A small thing at the Dark Rose Pub.”

It was always a small thing. So small, she would crawl back home with barely any clothes left and not remembering one single thing, other than she had screwed someone. Who? Only Heaven knew.

“Have f—”

“You should come,” she said, surprising me. Other than the necessary topics of two roommates, like bills and grocery shopping, we didn’t talk much. We had tried in the beginning, but after a couple of days living together, it was clear we had nothing in common. “Maybe you can loosen up a little and let someone finally get between your legs.”

There it was. The reason for this entire conversation. She wanted, once more, to throw in my face that I was a virgin. It had been my mistake, really. When I first moved in with her, I tried being friends and telling her a little about me. Like a stupid innocent girl at eighteen, I told her I had never had s*x. After that, she used every occasion she had to tease me about it.

Unfortunately, the situation hadn't changed in the last three years. I hadn’t met anyone who interested me enough to move on from first base within this little town, and she knew that.

Unlike her, I wouldn’t go out to get stupidly drunk and sleep with just anyone. It wasn’t me. Actually, just thinking about it made my stomach knot. Maybe it was silly of me, but I still believed the man who would sweep me off my feet was out there and one day I would find him.

And we would live happily ever after.

Kimberly let out a boisterous laugh, as if she had just told the joke of the year.

I rolled my eyes and went to my bedroom. I closed the door and rested my back against the thin wood. Living here with her was killing my spirit, but this was the cheapest place I could find in Brooksville, and now I wasn’t even sure I would be able to continue paying for it.

My eyes filled with tears, but I pushed them away. It was still too early for that. I had just been fired. I couldn’t fall into despair just yet.

Tomorrow would be a new day, a better day. I knew it.

I willed it so.

My dreams were riddled with the most horrible thing on Earth: a huge credit card bill I couldn’t pay.

I tossed and turned, desperately trying to rest, so I really could make my day better tomorrow, but my mind wouldn’t shut down. I stayed in bed, though, counting little sheep, hoping sleep would come take me.

Instead, my phone rang at four in the morning.

“What the…?” I reached for it, and the caller’s name flashed on the screen: Dark Rose Pub. I exhaled through my nose as irritation filled my veins. “Hello?”

“Hey, Amber, it’s me, Judd,” the owner of the pub said.

“Let me guess, Kimberly is passed out in a corner and you want me to come pick her up.”

“As usual,” he muttered.

Every time I went there to collect Kimberly, which was at least twice a month, the old man looked at me with pure pity. I hated that, but I never said anything. Even though I also hated the fact that Kimberly drank herself to oblivion and put me in this position, I couldn’t just leave her there. What if some bad guy tried to abuse her? I didn’t want that on my conscience.

So I sat up in bed and sighed. “I’ll be right there.”