FIVE

"Hi, what can I get you, gentlemen?"

"How about that sweet ass sitting on my lap or have your beautiful British mouth sucking my cock," a college guy and his friends snicker.

I groan and roll my eyes in disgust. 

This wasn't the first time I got hit on. The moment I started working at B&M bar in downtown Long Beach last night - waitressing.

Yesterday, I took orders from these two drunks who tried to hit me until Big Mac had them kicked out. Then another, with a married man, slapped my ass when his wife wasn't looking until I slipped her a note telling her what her husband was doing. They got into a heated argument the whole night. Just one day of working, I got hit on, slapped in the ass, and wolf-whistled.

I should quit or complain to Billie or Big Mac, but the tips are great.

"Are you a bit young to be working at a bar?" Says the other.

Here we go again.

That's not the first, either. I started working at Nay Nay's restaurant when I was sixteen; people who didn't know me always thought I was in middle school or elementary because of my height. Both of my parents are short, so hence I inherited their height. I'm small in people's eyes.

Like these jerks.

"Sir," being polite and pulling up a fake smile. "I'm twenty-five years old and have a son. I will not tolerate such foul words from you three. So, if you want someone to suck your tiny cock, I suggest Mr. Ludlow over at the bar." I point my thumb to the drunkard, Alan Ludlow. Billie, one of the managers and Sam's aunt, said he comes here every night to order fish and chips and cold beers. I got to meet the old champ and say he's very talkative when drunk, but I found it funny.

As I wrote down three beers for three losers on the pad, two all ooohed at their friend and then left the table to give the order to Billie.

"Fuckin bastards," I mutter.

"What's wrong, Claire?" Billie asks with her Texas accent, which I find more amusing than my British accent, and hand me three cold open beer. We praise each other accents.

Billie Fowler is a woman in her late thirties, married to Mackenzie Fowler, aka Big Mac, the other manager of this bar and the cook. They are Sam Fowler's guardians since his parents passed away when he was younger. His aunt Billie took him in and raised him.

"Nothing, just talking to myself." I place the beers on the tray and sigh.

"Doesn't sounds nothing. Since yesterday, you also pulled that face. Men giving you trouble?"

"Men. My height. You know, issues."

"What is wrong with your height?" Billie wiped a glass cup dry and went to clean the next one.

"Billie, when Sam introduces me to you and Big Mac to work here. What were your thoughts about me?"

Billie places the glass down and drapes the towel rag over her shoulders. "My first thought about you is why a teenager wants to get a job at a bar. But when you showed me your passport, my perspective changed drastically. I'm not one to judge; I mean two lesbian who owns a bar and raise my nephew, who is also gay. We all got issues, but we deal with it."

I sigh.

"I often get teased at home because of my height and looks."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. I wish I looked the way you look. I'm pushing forty next year and worried about gray hair."

I chuckle.

"Don't let anyone get the best of you because of your height and looks."

"Sometimes people think Leo, my son, is my little brother." As I said, another waitress, Marla, asked for the customer's drinks, and Billie quickly made them and then handed them to her.

"Oh damn," she clicks her tongue. "I don't know what to say about that."

I heard those college boys hollering about their drinks, then making whistling noises at me. I roll my eyes and groan in annoyance.

Those bloody bastards. I should file sexual harassment against them on a child even though I'm not, but the police won't know that.

Muahahahaha!

No, that will count as lying to the police, and I could get in trouble.

"How about this," Billie began. "Why not change your hairstyle that is more mature-like."

I thought my hair. "Well, I do need a trim." It's been a long time since I got my hair cut."

"Yeah, change is good. Get yourself a whole new makeover. I could ask Sam to help you out. I mean, no offense, Claire, I like the style, but you're in America."

I look down at my maxi dress and long sleeve with boots. I burrowed these from Thea's clothes that fit me because she claims they don't work for her anymore.

"You think these are old fashion?"

"Ask Sam, and he will give you a whole new makeover. If I remember, Lily's Dad is a makeup artist and can cut your hair free."

"I can ask Effie about her," another yell from the college boys asking for their beer. "I better go. These little boys want their bottle."

Billie laughs, and I smile at my joke, then head to the customers.

After a few more hours, and gained many tips. I said my goodbyes to Billie and Big Mac and took the bus home. To kill time, I listen to music. Effie offered Logan to pick me up, but I could handle going home by bus. I'm used to it in London. I arrived home after fifteen minutes; I walked the rest of the way.

In front of the house, I stop and look behind me. I can feel someone is following me from behind. I scan the street in the dark—nothing but the cold air and crickets singing. I grab my keys from my purse and quickly open the door. Once inside, I locked it breathing hard and clutching my beating heart. I peek my eyes through the peephole, scanning to find movement.

"Did he find me?" I whisper, panicking and scared out of my mind. I'm starting to get paranoid that Eddie has found me already. With money, he could see me quickly.

"Find who?"

I scream and jump around to find Donovan in front of me. My heart continues to beat faster than ever.

"Please, don't ever do that. My heart almost jumped out of me." I breathe, distraught and frantic, while I stare at him. "It's past twelve. Why are you still up?"

Oh great, I sound like my mother.

There were times I needed a midnight snack. My mother would find me eating from the fridge and scold me that I might ruin my appetite.

I love food. Who doesn't?

"Made some warm milk for Leo." He confesses not being affected by my motherly scolding.

I rub my face but snap my eyes open. "Leo? What's wrong with Leo?" I bolt upstairs and open our room to find Leo missing. Panic rushes through my body. I face Donovan. "Where's my son?"

He shushes me.

Did this prick shush me? I couldn't fight to argue with him as I followed him to his bedroom. He opens it, and with one lamp on, I find Leo sleeping soundly with his Hulk plushie he got from Disneyland. He was hugging the plush tightly.

I blew out a breath. I sat beside him on the bed, brushing his dark brown hair. I forgot Donovan followed me into the room.

"He's not wearing his alien nighties," I lift the blanket. "Before I left, he had on his Captain America."

"He woke up crying, having a nightmare, and wet the bed. I didn't want to wake the girls, so I had him wash and change into new pajamas. The little guy didn't want to sleep alone, so I took him to my room until you returned home."

What a considerate guy.

I look at my son with a despaired expression on my face. He hasn't gone the bed since we left London. Without me sleeping beside him, Leo was crying for me. I always stayed on Leo's side since I started working at the bar.

I sniffle.

Holding back my tears and covered my mouth to muffle the sounds.

"Claire, you okay?"

I quickly wipe my eyes and my nose. "Thank you for taking care of Leo while I work."

"No problem."

I look at my son. "I'll change the bed sheets and bring him back to our room." Before I leave, Donovan gently holds me back.

"You stay. I'll change the sheets."

"But, you must have been tired of caring for my son. I don't want to burden you with having him sleep in your room."

"It's no trouble." He states with a smile. "I'll change them and sleep there. In the meantime, you go change and sleep in my room with your son."

I said nothing and went to my bedroom, gathering my sleepwear. Change in the bathroom and wash up and brush my teeth. I undo my ponytail and glance at myself in the mirror, thinking of cutting them as suggested by Billie. With my hair down, I look like a little girl with these jugs like a woman. I shake my head and slap my face before heading out.

I return to Donovan's room and spot him pulling back the blanket. I bite my lower lips and rub my arm nervously. "Are you sure? I don't want-"

"Claire, it's fine." It briefly shocked me when he reached out, but I took a step backspace. Suddenly it was a reflex. I was waiting for Donovan to react, but when I looked up at him, his hand was at his side, and he smiled. "Go, get some sleep."

He left the room and closed the door.

I sigh.

I know I hurt him because of my scared reaction. I've seen it too often whenever Eddie struck me, but Donovan is not Eddie. I always told myself that. Not all men are like Eddie.

Don and his brothers are perfect examples of great men. Men who don't hurt the women they love because men's toiletries are organized, or the soup was too hot it burned his tongue, and he had to hit me for it.

Not these men.

I can see Effie, Thea, and their friend Lily are happily in love with their men. I witness their love for two months. And Don, he's a quiet guy among them. Despite the scars he has made him the bigger man, he's not scary.

I turned off the light, got into Don's bed, and pulled Leo into my arms as I rubbed his back. His bed smells like him. The smell of his alluring sweet cologne made my inside jitter.

I won't sleep if I keep smelling him all night. I hope my exotic dream of him will leave me alone just for tonight.