Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Not hearing any voices inside, I unlock the door. No one’s in the apartment, and I couldn’t be happier. The rest of the night goes by in a blur as I eat the last bit of lunch meat on stale bread. Most days I don’t eat much at all because I’ve thrown all my money into the bills and I only have a couple of pennies to rub together.
I fall asleep with hopes for a change to fix this life of mine, but the only person that appears in my dreams is Mr. Handsome Suit. He can’t help me in any way except by leaving me those large tips. They can handle some small bills.
****
It’s three in the morning when my alarm goes off, so I get up. “What the fuck is that noise?” my stepfather shouts, coming into my bedroom like he’s the fucking police.
He looks like he’s been on a bender or something. “It’s my work alarm. You know, that place you forgot you have a stake in.”
“You do such a good job running it—why do I need to be there?”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to get ready.” He leaves, tossing his hands up, conveniently leaving the door wide open. What a prick.
I shower and dress as quickly as possible, but when I go to ask him about the debts, he’s fucking passed out. There’s one thing I’ve learned over the years; you don’t wake up an angry drunk. My keys gingerly move into the lock as I close the front door.
I move around the shop, helping customer after customer while I dread and yet welcome a visit from a complete stranger. Well, I guess he’s not a complete stranger. He has come into the café every day for the past two days and at night, he stars in my fantasies.
It takes another twenty minutes, but he’s here and looking exceptionally gorgeous today as his eyes meet mine. I cater to all walks of life, but he’s dressed to kill in an expensive suit with his satchel that contains his laptop and some documents. He takes a seat in his usual spot that gives him a direct view of the counter and, more importantly, me, which makes me a bit nervous.
He watches me like a hawk, his light eyes darkening when they land on mine. It’s nuts the way I’m not upset at the way he focuses on me. If it were any other man, I’d inform him that I’m not only not interested, but that I’d call the cops if he harassed me again. Even though I’ve personally taken his order, never once has he introduced himself to me. I’ve tossed my name out twice, even though it’s on my name tag. It’s irking me to no end.
I don’t go to him. If he wants to be served, he can come up to the counter like most of the guests here do or wait for Ella to come out of the back. He didn’t mind her taking his order the other day, and somehow it infuriates me. It’s petty and ridiculous, but if there was ever a reason for it, I believe this jerk has given me proper justification.
Mr. Handsome-but-Rude can kiss my ass.
I walk around and take the orders of two men sitting at a table near to him. I feel his gaze as I speak to them. It’s almost as if he wants to claim me as his personal server, but I just ignore him and walk behind the counter to process their orders.
“Professor Suit is back for the third day. He’s waiting for you to serve him.”
“Well, he has no manners, so he’ll have to come up here to get his coffee.”
“Well, if you won’t serve him, I will. Damn, that man is fine as hell,” Ella says, smiling at him, and I change my mind.
“No. I got it.”
“What is going on with you? You’re getting eye-fucked from the hot, smart-looking guy in an expensive suit, and you don’t get his number or anything.”
“He hasn’t even said his name and I’ve said mine several times, so anyway. Being professional is all that is going to happen.”
By the time he finally takes his leave, I can breathe again. The man is a fucking menace, and I wish that he would just leave me alone instead of dominating my soul even at a distance.
I call my stepfather, who should have been here by now, but he’s probably off on another binge. The man has a gambling and drinking problem that’s becoming too much of a burden for me to handle. Day in and day out, I feel more like the parent than the child. I should just say fuck it all and leave, but I can’t do that to my mother’s dream. She loved the café the way she loved me.