The Not-Outcast by Tijan

48

Cut

Igave Hendrix the 411, but not the why behind it. So when we showed up at Come Our Way, Dean gave us the usual greeting. He was a do-gooder suit. He wears the suit, but he means well bottom line. We’ve been around enough people to know the difference, and I relaxed a little once I met him. I remembered him from the first night, and a part of me still wanted to rip the guy’s head off.

He seemed more placid this time around.

Hendrix thought it was hilarious.

“It’s really nice of you to reach out and want to come on your own,” Dean was saying, backing up as he was leading us to his office.

Hendrix shared a look with me. Don’t know why we needed to go in there, but I had a feeling we needed to give this guy five minutes, or he’d never leave us alone.

He opened his door. We walked in, and neither of us sat.

Shutting the door, he extended his hand. “Take a seat.”

We still didn’t.

“Oh. Okay.” He’d been about to sit at his desk but remained standing. Smoothing a hand down his tie, he leaned forward and typed on his computer. “Mr. Sanderson, you’ve been here before, so you know the protocol.”

“Remind me.”

Yep. Hendrix thought this whole thing was hilarious.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He moved back around, a slight laugh coming from him as we went back into the main area. We were led to a back kitchen section where we were told to wash our hands. Then we were given a hairnet, an apron, gloves. A big black guy came around, wearing a chef’s apron, and we were introduced to Boomer. We got the low-down from him, which was basically where to stand and when someone handed you a plate, put a scoop of food on it. That was it. It took me till later to realize Dean was planning on sending Hendrix out ahead of time, keeping me in? Sounded shady, but in our world, worse shit happened.

We met Reba, too, and she stared at me long enough, so I started putting two and two together. When I cut my gaze to Cheyenne once, and back to her, she had a small little smile there. My girl shared. I stifled a grin and focused back on what we were doing.

It was hard not to watch Cheyenne, though.

I could tell she was stressed. There were strain lines around her mouth and under her eyes, but her earbuds were in and she had her phone in her pocket. She’d close her eyes every now and then and she mouthed the words along with some of the songs, but she looked like a regular kitchen worker.

Boomer would watch her progress. When she would be three quarters of the way finished with whatever he had her doing, he’d start setting up her next task. When she’d finish, he’d go over and point her where to go. She’d go over and start up. She always knew what was needed, and he’d start collecting whatever she just chopped, diced, or peeled. Most of the product was put in containers and taken back into their walk-in fridge. He was having her help get ready for a future meal.

Hendrix and I stayed for an hour.

We were both asked if we wanted to stay. Note that it wasn’t Dean who asked. He’d been standing around, checking on the beverages, but that lasted twenty minutes. He’d been in his office since, and Reba asked if we wanted to stay. We both did.

I caught Hendrix glancing at Cheyenne a couple times, too, a slight frown. I didn’t tell him why she was doing what she was doing, but I could read my right-winger, and he knew something was up with her.

After another hour, some of the stress lines were fading. She was gulping down coffee like it was going out of business, but she kept working. We kept working. And Boomer kept going back and forth between all of us. Reba came and helped out, too.

I could see why Cheyenne loved this place so much, and why Hendrix wanted to come back.

The workers were cool. They were laidback. Funny too. The only guy who had an agenda was Dean, but he came out when we were in our third hour of working, and he seemed to have accepted he wasn’t going to get what he wanted, whatever it was. He picked up some of the dessert trays and took ’em around to the people eating. And all the people coming in, they were characters.

Some just wanted the food and wanted out of there.

Some had a story for each person. A few looked ready to collapse, but after being in Come Our Way for a few minutes, they relaxed. A lot of guys stuck around, sharing an extra cup of coffee, and one of the guys went over to the piano. He started playing, and most enjoyed. There were a couple who made cracks about the sound, but those were hushed or told to leave by the other patrons.

Thirty minutes into the piano concert, a guy sat down and started singing.

I glanced back, saw that Cheyenne had taken her earbuds out, and there was a small little grin on her face. Yeah. She seemed a lot better.

“All right, folks.” If Boomer wasn’t his given name, I heard why it was his nickname. He boomed out on our fourth hour there and held his hand up in the air, “We’re good to go. Time to close up shop.”

A few guys whined, but most picked up their items and headed for the door.

A couple lingered back, and I saw Reba handing out food in closed containers. When she caught me watching, she winked. Each guy stuffed the container under a coat or shirt before heading out the door. She came over when she was done, putting the empty pan on the counter where I was standing. “That’s not legal, but most everyone here’s done something not legal.”

“Not going to hear a word from me.”

She winked again, nodding to where Hendrix was sitting at a table talking to a few of the patrons who were the last to leave. “Enjoyed having you both here. Real nice of you, and even better that no press was called in.”

“That happens with some, but a lot of the guys on the team aren’t like that.”

“That’s why you guys will do real good this year. Can already see it.” Then, her gaze trailed past me, and I waited, expecting her next comment about Cheyenne. I was surprised when I heard instead, “Don’t let him know about you and her. He’ll use her, and it’ll wear on her after a bit, even if she thinks she can handle him. She can’t. None of us can when he’s got his mind set on something.”

“Noted.”

Her eyes moved back to mine. “Watching you watching her today, I can tell you feel a right sort of way with her. Take care of her. She deserves it.”

“That was noted a long time ago.”

She grinned at me, a slow nod, and moved past me with a pat on my arm. “You’ll do, Mr. Big Celebrity Athlete. You’ll do right well, I can tell.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as she left, Hendrix came over. He nodded in the kitchen’s direction. “She’s still working. You two coming tonight?”

“Yeah.” I glanced back, then to Dean’s office.

“He took off.”

“He did? When?”

“Five minutes ago, or so. He was rushing out and checking his watch. I was expecting the social media pics at the end, but it seems like he’s the only one who would worry about that. He must’ve been late for something.”

“Maybe.” That meant I could talk to Cheyenne without leaving and not speaking to her. That felt wrong in a deep-sort of way.

A few of the volunteers came over. They must’ve got the go-ahead by Boomer, because we were approached for selfies and autographs. Once they left, it was literally the two of us. Cheyenne had gone to her office and Boomer and Reba weren’t around.

Boomer then came out, startled at seeing us. “Thought you two would’ve left long ago.”

Hendrix shot him a grin. “I’m on my way out. It was a pleasure, sir. You run a tight ship here.”

He held his hand out, and Boomer took it, giving him a slow nod. “You both faired real well. Real well.” He said to me, “She’s in her office, so you can head on back.”

Hendrix and I shared a look.

A low chuckle came from Boomer. “That girl’s a looker, and she’s got the it that guys salivate over. Knew something was up when neither of you asked about her. Knew something was more when I caught you checking on her, and knew something was really up when Reba was giving you a once-over a few times. Deano’s gone and I won’t say a word. I’m going to head on out myself in a few, but Cheyenne’s got keys to lock up. I’m assuming you’ll stay to make sure she gets to her car safe?”

That had me frowning. “Does she walk out alone normally?”

“Never. We always have one of the volunteers keep an eye on her, same with Reba. Though, most of the guys who linger around here are scared of Reba. Rightfully so. She can snatch a tongue in three seconds flat.” He shuddered, before giving us both another nod and heading into the kitchen.

“Right. There’s my cue, and I’m not a third wheel.” Hendrix clasped me on the shoulder. “Girl or not, I want to do this again. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“See you at mine later?”

I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

He was going down the back hallway as I went over to Cheyenne’s office and rapped lightly.

There was a second before she answered, “Yeah?”

I bent my head down. “It’s me. Only Boomer is here.”

“Oh.” It was another couple beats before she came over. The door was unlocked, and she opened the door. “Hey.”

I felt punched in the gonads.

She looked pale and the strain lines were worse.

I stepped inside, my hand instantly cupping the back of her neck and I shut the door behind me. “You were faking out there.”

“I wasn’t.” But she didn’t say anything else, resting her head against my chest, and I worked the muscles in the back of her neck. We stayed like that as I worked around to the pressure points on her face, working over her temples and down the rest of her face. It was a weird sensation your first time, but then it was damned addictive, and relaxing. I kept going when her head grew limp. She was giving herself completely over to me so I bent down, caught her up in my arms, and carried her over to her desk chair.

Sitting down, her on my lap, I positioned so she was sitting sideways, and I kept massaging the rest of her.

We didn’t talk.

I massaged her until an hour into it, I realized she’d fallen asleep, and I kept working even after that.

I worked until I just sat there, just holding her, and that’s when I knew.

There wouldn’t be a day where I wouldn’t want to do this.