Cuffs Read online

  “They do have the right to say what goes on under their roof,” Chris sighed. She was fast coming to the limits of her patience with Rigel. She was twenty, almost twenty-one. Old enough to be out on her own for sure, but for one reason or another she just couldn't get it together. She hadn't held down a job for more than a few weeks and she'd been kicked out of three apartments for various infractions.

  “Anyway, guess I'll just sleep in my car and wash up when the gym opens tomorrow,” Rigel said, slumping back against the driver's door.

  Chris released her wrist. “You can stay at my place tonight. We'll work something out tomorrow.”

  “No thanks,” Rigel shook her head and cradled her swollen knuckles. They needed ice – and to belong to someone who wasn't quite so stupid as to vent her frustrations on a door. “I can't do that.”

  “Yes you can.”

  A slow shake of the head showed that she wasn't just being a contrary brat as per usual. “No. Trust me. I can't.”

  “Why not?”

  Rigel's reply was as honest as it was heartbreaking. “You're the only person who still likes me. I don't want to screw that up. And I screw everything up.” She met Chris's eyes with desperation. “Just forget you saw this and go home okay? You got work in the morning.”

  “As do you, right?”

  Rigel's muteness was testament to another job lost. Chris felt frustration welling and fought to keep it down. “What happened?”

  “It was a stupid job.” Rigel was mumbling. She always mumbled when she knew she was in the wrong, mumbled and scuffed at the ground. Chris looked down. Yep, sure enough a sneaker was digging at the asphalt as if it might be able to tunnel all the way to China.

  “What. Happened?”

  “I got fired. That's all. Okay?”

  “For?”

  Rebellion. The last defense of those who know they were in the wrong. “I don't have to tell you.” She stared up at Chris, her hands balling subconsciously into fists again. She was always so angry, so eager to fight – as if fighting would solve all her problems.

  Chris took a step back and folded her arms over her chest, giving Rigel some space. No point cornering the vicious little thing. “You have to tell someone.”

  “I threw soda over a customer,” Rigel admitted. “He said I got the wrong soda. I didn't get the wrong soda. He asked for Pepsi and he got Pepsi.” A little faraway smile crossed her face. “He got it right in his face.”

  “Rigel...”

  “Taaannkkk.” Rigel interrupted, drawling Chris' nickname out in an exaggerated mimicking. “Listen, don't worry, it's fine, okay?” She started patting at the pocket of her jacket, finding what she wanted in the left breast pocket. She drew a crumpled white cylinder out and clamped it between her teeth as her hands started patting her body again. She glanced over at Chris. “You gotta light?”

  Chris's voice held heavy significance. “I know something that needs to be lit up and it's not that cigarette.”

  It was lost on Rigel. “Do you have one or not? Wait.. don't worry.”

  She found a faded green Bic and sparked it several times before getting enough flame to light her cigarette. Orange light flared as the paper and tobacco caught light, momentarily casting a glow over the devilishly attractive features. Chris felt a tug somewhere low, an urge that had nothing to do with wanting to help the miscreant inhaling toxic smoke deep into her lungs.