Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
His finger tapped over it as he pushed out of the booth. “That’s the best tip I could ever leave you, sweetie.”
My face heated. My blood pressure ticked up, thumping in my temples. I wanted to scream, but instead, I smiled through gritted teeth. “Jesus doesn’t pay the bills, though. Does he, sir?”
Without waiting for some pious, entitled response, I turned away, leaving his booklet on the table.
I was halfway to the drink station to grab a pitcher of sweet tea for a refill when the hostess passed by. “Table thirty-two asked to be seated in your section, Lola.”
I glanced across the restaurant. Max Harford and a bruised Ethan Taylor sat in the corner booth amongst a group of girls, all glaring at me like I’d just crapped in their designer bags. Just what I needed today.
I approached the table, willing, patient, and forcing a smile when I asked what I could get them to drink. Two of the girls ordered Diet Coke. Then I came to Ethan.
“I’ll take a sweet tea and your piece of shit boyfriend in a set of handcuffs,” he said, and the table erupted in laughter.
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, then drown him in the pitcher of sweet tea. But before I could…
“Wait,” the only brunette in the bunch said, her judgmental glare dragging over me. “She’s the girl Hendrix Hunt dated?” She tossed her head back with an annoying laugh. “If that’s his standard… Maybe I’ll date Dayton’s hot bad boy just to break his white-trash heart.”
Another round of raucous laughter bounced around the booth of assholes, and my annoyance erupted into a mushroom cloud of sheer wrath.
“Sweet tea, for you, too?” I asked. But before she could answer, I raised the pitcher and dumped it over her head.
She shrieked, and the hum of conversation in the restaurant immediately fell silent.
“Fuck every one of you spoiled, daddy-issue-riddled assholes.” Then I slammed the pitcher down on the table and turned around. The stares of almost everyone in the restaurant followed me as I walked off.
It wasn’t until I’d passed the restrooms that Pete shouted my name, telling me to get in the office. I was one hundred percent getting fired.
I rounded the bar, already untying my apron from around my waist. “Don’t bother firing me.” I shoved the apron against his chest. “I quit serving these pretentious dickheads.”
Then I went to the back, grabbed my bookbag, and walked out.
Halfway down the highway, my rage dissipated, and reality set in. I’d just lost my job. The day after I’d actually found somewhere to rent. And I’d spent half a week’s rent on that damn pill.
I pulled my phone from my bag to call Kyle, but when I went to dial his number, it was dead. I put my arm in my mouth and bit down to stop myself from screaming, then kicked a beer can from the shoulder. Warm liquid splattered my ankle, and it sent me over the edge.
This entire day could go fuck itself.
A mile down the road, I stopped in front of the abandoned Piggly Wiggly and leaned over my knees. Only three more miles to go…
Gravel crunched behind me when a vehicle pulled onto the shoulder.
I turned, fully expecting to see some pervert trying his luck, but instead, I found Chad’s truck. The window lowered. “You need a ride?”
“No, I—”
“Sissa!” That little voice was the only thing that could possibly make me feel better about this terrible day.
I walked to the passenger side of the truck and glanced in the back.
Gracie sat strapped into a booster seat, the sparkly, yellow netting of another princess dress filling most of the space. A smear of chocolate covered her chubby cheek as she smiled at me.
“Get in,” Chad said, and I did.
“Hey, Jellybean.” I glanced over my shoulder, smiling at her sweet face as I fastened my seatbelt. “Where have you been all dressed up?”
“To a party. We had cake, a bounce house, and Cinderella.” She rambled about the entire party, including the ponies—who the hell could afford ponies at a kid’s party?
Chad glanced over to check the traffic on the highway, and his gaze drifted to my shirt. “You left in the middle of your shift?”
“I quit.” The silence was filled only by the tick tick tick of his blinker. “I might have dumped a jug of iced tea over a Barrington bitch.”
“So, Pete was about to fire you...” He laughed when I flipped him off.
This time, instead of directing him to Kyle’s, I gave him directions to Hendrix’s house.
The minute the faded white siding came into view, my attention went right to Hendrix pushing a mower through the front yard. Shirtless and sweaty, the sun glinting off his slick chest and abs.
Jesus Christ. Living with him would be so much easier if he looked even a little bit average.