From Prey to Precious

Rachel's POV: It’s just the same s**t on a different day.  Just more of the same old crap that has been happening to me for as long as I can remember.  I have absolutely no desire to get out of bed, but I know that I have to.  I need to keep my jobs so that I can continue to bring in my measly paychecks so I can continue to keep up on my bills and be able to eat every once in a while.   I sigh as I stretch before pulling myself out of bed and into my tiny bathroom.  It’s small and cramped but at least it’s clean.  I glance over at the clock as I start preparing to get into the shower.  Its flashing 5:03 AM and my stomach just drops to somewhere past my knees.  Oh no don’t tell me that stupid storm knocked the power out, again, last night?  I think in a panic as I grab my cell phone to check the time.  Oh just wonderful, it’s 6:20am and I have twenty-five minutes to shower, get dressed and get to work.  Perfect.  This is just how I wanted to start my day.   I end up taking an ice cold shower because, once again, it seems like there’s a problem with the hot water heater.  I throw my uniform on, slip my feet into my non-slip shoes and am somehow out my door in about ten minutes.  I manage to pull my leather jacket on as I run down the stairs and nearly miss the last step in my rush to get out the door.  Luckily I manage to get out the door of my building and into the parking lot without incident and run over to my bike.  I throw my leg over her and jam my key into the ignition simultaneously. I rev the engine once before nearly peeling wheels out of my building’s parking lot and out onto the street.   My life may be a mess, but the one bright spot in it is my bike. She’s a 1976, fully restored, matte black Indian that runs like a dream (if I do say so myself).  I’ve spent the last five years scouring the internet, junk yards and private sellers for parts.  Occasionally going to some less than reputable people but you do what you have to for the things that you love.  I’ve poured blood, sweat and tears into every aspect of her.  Installing everything myself.  Thank goodness for on the job training and ‘How To’ videos.  It’s almost laughable what I have put myself through to get my bike on the road and I’m sure that several people would think that I was out of my mind.  But it makes me happy and if I spent my entire life worrying about what other people thought of me, I’d be more of a mess than I already am.   I pull into the parking lot at my first job, only to find that there’s no employee parking spaces available.  I growl in frustration as I quickly try to find any available parking space.  I end up finally finding one at the far side of the parking lot and make sure to pull into it before someone else grabs it out from under me.  I jump off my bike as soon as the engine shuts off, grab my keys and sprint across the parking lot.  I pull my phone out for a second to glance at the time, 6:50 AM, and curse under my breath when I realize that I’m late.  I move to tuck my phone into my backpack as I run towards the coffee house at the end of the dingy little strip mall I’m currently working in when suddenly my world flips upside down in quite a literal fashion.   One minute I’m struggling with my backpack, running to get to work and the next I’m about to give myself a road facial after running right, smack into what appears to be a black and red Ninja.  I managed to hit the thing so hard that I actually flipped over the rear tire and am about to chew on some asphalt.  Lucky for me, my body manages to react in enough time to prevent me from grating my face against the ground.  I manage to slam my hands down on the ground and perform and extremely sloppy front handspring over the rear tire so I don’t bring the bike down on top of me (rider not withstanding).  I stick the landing and don’t even bother to stop my forward momentum.  I know it’s rude but I’m already late and I do not need another issue today.   I look over my shoulder and take a quick look at the rider as I yell “Sorry man!” over my shoulder.  The rider is small and whipcord thin.  Considering they were in full riding leathers and had on a helmet with a black tinted visor it would have been easy to mistake them for a woman.  But with the broad shoulders, trim waist and those knee-high buckle boots, I could tell it was a guy.  Under normal circumstances I would have loved to stop and talk about those boots, if not the rice burner he was currently astride, but I just didn’t have time today.  Not to mention I got the overwhelming feeling that I really needed to just keep running away from this guy.  I don’t know what it was but the second that I realized he was there a little part of me just told me I needed to move my little butt and get away as soon as possible.   I grab the handle to the employee entrance and yank it open, barely registering the stinging on my hand as I shoot through the door.  I toss my bag right into my cubby and pull my apron on over my head as I hurry past the door to the office and over to the time clock.    I’m just about to clock in when I hear a booming voice yell “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THAT!”  I stop and look over my shoulder at the very red face of my boss, Devin.  The man looks like he’s about to have an aneurism right then and there.  His face, bald head and neck are so red they are almost purple and his hands are balled up into fists as he starts stomping over towards me.  I guess he figures I’m going to act like most girls and shrink away like a scared little kitten as he stomps in my direction.  Good thing I’m not most girls.   He stops right in front of me, his face inches from mine.  I pull myself up to my full 5’8” and meet him glare for glare.  Evidently not only does he have no respect for my personal space, but this jerk actually thinks I’m going back down.  He’s lucky I’ve learned to control my temper and don’t just give him the punch across the jaw that he sorely deserves.   “Do you have any idea of what time it is Ms. Langston?” he snarls in my face.   I can feel his spittle hitting my face as hits the “T” in my last name particularly hard.  I know that he’s doing it on purpose and that just makes me angrier.  But I’m no fool.  He knows exactly what he’s doing and if I make one wrong move he’s going to call the cops and that’s just one more thing I don’t need right now.  I just grit my teeth, clench my fists and stare right back at him.  I know if I even open my mouth to respond he’s going to fly off the deep end and I really don’t need to be arrested on assault charges today.   He points a sausage finger at the clock that’s hanging on the wall right above the door to the dining room.  “It’s 7:10am.  YOU were supposed to be here at 6:45am. Do you not know how to tell time? Or are you just an ignorant tattooed freak that gets off on wasting other peoples’ time?   “This is the LAST time that you are going to disrespect me or my business. You’re fired!” he all but screams in my face.   I continue to look him in the eye as I give him a little smirk and c**k my hip, letting my fist rest against it.  I maintain eye contact as I shake my head slightly and I take a breath to make some biting retort.    But my comment doesn’t make it past my throat.  Just as I open my mouth to tell him off, Devin grabs hold of my apron and rips it off of me.  I feel the snaps on the neck strap come apart and I hear the ripping of fabric and I glance down to see that in addition to ripping the apron off of me, he grabbed my shirt and now it has a large rip in it, partially exposing my bra.   I can feel my body start to tremble with rage and my vision starts to go red around the edges as a growl crawls up my throat past my clenched teeth.   The next thing I remember is pulling my leather jacket on and then grabbing my backpack out of the cubby.  I can hear muttering from the other employees coming from behind me accompanied by a low moaning sound.  I pretend like I don’t care and head towards the back door.  I take one last look behind me to see one of the other barista’s covertly giving me a big smile and thumbs up.  I throw a cocky smile over my shoulder at her and proceed to walk out into the parking lot.   One thing that I learned very early on was that you never show fear in the face of a predator.  Whether that’s a big ass dog in the junk yard or a 300lb bald jerk on a power trip.  You meet them head on, throw them off their guard and scare them off before they even know what happened.  Make sure you are the one in control.  Under absolutely no circumstances do you let them know that they rattled you.  Under absolutely no circumstances do you let them know that you were so scared you nearly pissed your pants.  You wait until you are at home with the door locked and bolted, the blinds drawn and the shower running before you let those feelings out.  So I took my time and swaggered over to my bike, even though with every step I took I wanted to run.  I pretended to fix the lipstick that I wasn’t wearing in my side view mirror as I tried to will my hands to stop shaking and I plastered a fake cocky smile on my face as I put on my shades to hide the fear in my eyes as I kicked up my bike’s kickstand.