Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I watched her taillights disappear around the curve in the road that led around the building before I went back inside, but before I could even walk part way in, the door was pushed back out.
Then I was met with Coke and Francesca hurrying out.
“I fucking hate that bitch,” Coke muttered to himself, then stopped when he saw me.
“You go after her?”
I nodded. “She was gone by the time I got out here.”
“Oh, no,” Francesca said. “That just sucks.”
It did.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Coke grumbled to himself. “God, I can’t believe I was ever married to that woman. What a fucking day.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I agreed. I don’t know how anybody could willingly marry someone that vile.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re thinking that I had to have known how she was before I married her, but I swear to you. I had no clue. All I had was stars in my eyes, and a deep-seated love for the woman that she used to be.”
I smiled sadly and introduced myself. “Johnny Mackenzie.”
“Johnny not John.” Coke offered me his hand.
I grunted. “That’s me.”
“Nice to meet you again,” he said as he let my hand go. “I didn’t realize that you were into hoity-toity places like this. There’s a Whataburger right down the road.”
I grunted. “Honestly? I would’ve rather had that after the day I had. But I was roped into it by a high school friend.”
Coke grunted, then shifted his weight. “Baby, go get in the truck while I wait for your order.”
Francesca smiled at me, then hurried to do what her father ordered.
“You got a smart girl on your hands. I was impressed with her attitude,” I told him honestly.
Coke’s lips twitched. “She’s a good girl. Her mother’s not. Nor is her grandmother. But she’s got enough of me in her to balance out the crazy.”
I chuckled. “I can tell. Well, I’m sorry to have to see you under these circumstances, but I’m being rude to my friends.”
Coke offered his hand one more time. “Have a good one.”
Then he walked back inside with me. He went to the hostess stand while I continued on to our table, laughing when I saw the sour expressions on both women’s faces at the table over from ours.
“Well, that was interesting,” Janie said as I arrived back at my seat. “I didn’t realize this much went on in Jefferson. I should visit more often.”
“You visit it a lot,” Rafe pointed out. “The dividing city limit line between Hostel and Jefferson is wonky. You probably visit Jefferson a lot more than you think. This place is just a hotbed of activity. It’s one of the only nice restaurants in the area, and where everyone seems to visit when they’re doing something that requires dressing up.”
The dinner continued like that, but all I could think about was June and the way she looked as she hurried out of the restaurant.
Even worse, I had to watch her grandfather finish his dinner by himself, while he cast worried glances toward the door, unaware that his granddaughter’s heart had been broken in half by two snotty women.
And, all that kept going through my brain was that I had my own problems to fix. I couldn’t fix somebody else’s…could I?
Chapter 6
Those little blinking lights at the beginning of school zones are to help grab your attention. They are not there to shoot because they interrupted your sleep.
-Hostel PD FB page
June
Everything inside of me screamed not to go.
After last night? I didn’t think anyone, not even Coke, would blame me.
But I kept moving.
I thought about the depleted state of my bank account, and I kept my foot on the accelerator.
And each time I felt like turning around, I’d remind myself that I had shit to pay for, and twelve dollars and ninety-two cents wasn’t gonna cut it.
Like my car insurance. Or gas for my vehicle.
Or hell, an oil change.
Then there were those stupid tickets I’d gotten in the truck.
Maybe I should just get rid of the vehicle and walk? That would save me at least three hundred dollars a month. Technically the trip from the apartment I shared with Amanda to the salvage yard was only a mile and a half at most. That would be three miles a day total.
If it rained, I could call Amanda.
The idea kept my brain occupied as I drove the rest of the way to Coke’s place and pulled into the driveway.
My eyes scanned the parking lot automatically, and I was happy to see only Coke’s truck in the parking lot.
I got out and spread my fingers as I smoothed my hands down my jeans.
At my interview and subsequent hiring, Coke had explained that I could wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. What was not negotiable, however, was footwear. I had to wear boots because there would be times that I’d be going out to the impound lot or the salvage yard, and there were hazards everywhere out there.