Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
When I check with the kitchen, the orders are already starting to come out. Good thing, because my day will get a lot better when they finish up and get out of here. The last thing I want is a bunch of half-drunk bullies making their bad attitudes everyone’s problem. I serve them as quickly as I can, smiling through comments I know they want to see me react to. If the plates hit the table a little hard and they don’t get my usual charm, that's on them.
I think I’m finally done and clear when my left butt cheek explodes in pain. One of them pinched me, hard. I yelp and jump away, right into one of his friends. A hand clamps around my arm like a manacle. I struggle to get free, only managing it because he lets me. Real fear courses through my veins, and all they do is laugh. The guy who grabbed me raises his hands like he’s apologizing, but when I follow his gaze, it’s not to me, it’s to the biker table, where Savage is standing by his chair looking ready to do murder.
Why do I suddenly feel like a bone between two angry dogs?
“When do you get off work, hot stuff?” asks the guy who pinched me. “We could show you one hell of a good time.”
“Sorry, really long shift today.”
“Got nothing but time,” says the first guy, the older one who started it all. “We'll wait.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have to—I have other tables to wait on.”
He sneers and waves me away.
Relief put an extra boost to my steps as I practically jog back to the table with the bikers, pulling out my order pad. “Sorry to make you wait. Are you ready to order?”
“Assholes,” growls Crank, glowering over at the other bunch. “You okay?”
I nod. “I will be, except… never mind.”
“Except what?” Savage asks. He might be sitting again, but they’ve all adjusted their chairs so they can see the other table. He shifts, and I see a glint of metal by his waist. Oh God, I don't think he meant to show it, but he's carrying.
Can I trust them? Logic says no, but my gut says that while they might be dangerous, they’re not dangerous to me. Wasn’t I just thinking that I need to learn to go with my instincts? I turn so they are the only ones that will see or hear me. “It’s just that my shift is over soon, and I’m a little worried they might stick around.”
“You want us to keep an eye out?” Poe asks, sounding almost amused.
“N—never mind,” I stammer. “It’s fine. I’ll just hang around a bit to make sure they clear out. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Poe says, flicking his thick hair out of his face. He's got a narrow scar along the back of his jaw, pale white against his skin. “We'll keep an eye on you. Make sure you get where you’re going in one piece.” The other two nod.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I hold up my order pad and put the tip of the pen against the paper. “Now, what can I get you guys?”
2
PAIGE
“Later, Sarah,” Ash calls when I’m done with my shift. “See you tomorrow.”
I give him a little wave. “Later!”
I push open the back door and peek outside. There’s nobody around. The drunk bunch left almost an hour ago, and the bikers not too long afterwards in spite of saying they would keep an eye on me. That bothers me more than it should, but now that it’s all over, I feel stupid for being so worried. It’ll be good to finally put enough distance between me and my problems that I can take a breath and make a real plan.
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that Savage and his friends aren’t here because they said they would protect me, or if I just wanted to see them again. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It’s not like anything would’ve happened.
Maybe in my dreams, but in the real world I smell like meatloaf and I've been on my feet since this morning and the sun is just starting to set. The door clicks shut behind me and I scan the rear parking lot. There are only two cars, Ash’s beat up truck, and the bright pink hatchback our dinner waitress Melissa drives.
I hurry across the dimly lit lot, heading for the street. Mike, the head cook and owner, is letting me rent the space over his garage for cheap. It’s not fancy, but there’s an old single bed, a dresser for my stuff, and I can use his laundry room and downstairs bathroom for free as long as I don’t go crazy with electricity or hot water. Best part is that it’s a short walk from the diner so I don’t have to worry about dealing with the almost non-existent bus system. I was half convinced he was some sort of creep, so I barely slept the first couple nights, but now I’m pretty sure he’s just cheap.