Total pages in book: 7
Estimated words: 6322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 32(@200wpm)___ 25(@250wpm)___ 21(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 6322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 32(@200wpm)___ 25(@250wpm)___ 21(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
JESSIE
I’ve been working at The Pit Stop for about three months now. Ever since I turned eighteen and my mom took off. She said she was done raising a kid and it was time for her to live her life. I wouldn’t exactly call what she did raising me, but there was no use arguing.
She was behind on rent for our trailer, and I didn’t know it until the landlord came with eviction papers. After that, I was desperate to find something fast, and The Pit Stop was hiring. They have a row of bunk houses out back they let waitresses stay in for cheap, and I didn’t have a lot of options.
It’s clean enough, but it’s about the size of a closet with only a cot and a sink. Some of the girls rent their bunks to truckers for some quick cash, but it’s so tiny I don’t know how they both sleep in there at the same time. From what I’ve seen, they make a lot of money doing it, so I should ask.
“Order up,” Waylon calls, and I wipe my hands on my apron.
They make us wear these ridiculous uniforms, and mine is about three sizes too small. They had a box in the back I had to pick through, and none were big enough for me. Most of the waitresses here are skinny, but I’ve always been bigger than the girls my age. The buttons on the front of my uniform pull tight, and I double-check to make sure it hasn’t popped open.
Waylon slaps his palm on the bell a few times, and I hurry to the window. “Move your fat ass, Jessie.”
Grabbing the plates, I take them around the counter to one of only three booths that are occupied. Since I’m new, I’m on third shift so I mostly see long haul truckers wanting a hot meal. They only need one waitress on this shift, and it’s always the newest hire. The Pit Stop food isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever eaten, but it’s a frontage road truckstop, so we’re not exactly pulling in high dollar customers.
Once the food is delivered, I go behind the counter and get back to washing dishes. I’m humming to myself as I scrub when I hear the bell over the door. When I look up, my hands stop moving, and I stare as Big Otto comes in.
He’s one of the late-night regulars, and something about the way he watches me makes me nervous. Tonight, his cap is pulled down low, and his long beard hides most of his face, but I can still feel his eyes on me. He nods to the other guy in the booth but doesn’t say a word as he takes a seat at one of the booths and reaches for a menu.
After drying my hands, I grab my notepad and walk around to his booth. Music is playing from the jukebox so I have to speak up when I get to him.
“What can I get you?” My voice is still soft, but he knows I’m there, and when he looks up, he takes his time checking me out.
“What've you got?” He stares at the buttons straining to keep the top of my uniform closed.
“One of the waitresses made pies today,” I offer, trying not to think about the way he’s taking his time looking me over. I shift from one foot to the other as his tongue darts out and slides across his bottom lip.
“What kind of pie?”
“Cherry?” I don’t know why I say it like a question, but he grins a little like he’s pleased by my answer.
“That’s my favorite.” He leans close, and I’m so nervous, I don’t dare move an inch. He’s like a wild animal, and I’m afraid he’ll chase me if I run. “Think you could hold still while I eat it?”
I’m scribbling doodles on my notepad so I can avoid meeting his gaze. What does that even mean? “Um, I’m not sure.” My laugh is forced, and I want to go crawl under the counter and hide from this man. I’m not really scared of him, but something about him is scary.
“I bet it’s real fresh, ain’t it?” When he reaches for me, I’m unable to take a step back before his big hand gently rests on my hip. “How much?”
“It's on special today,” I stammer and then swallow hard.
“I heard some of y’all got rooms out back. Think you could let me have it in there?”
Oh, this must be how the girls make their extra money. Although I don’t know why truckers would want to eat in the bunk houses because they’re not really that nice. It would be stupid to turn down any extra money right now because I’m saving all my pennies to get the hell out of here.