“Hey, Dulce, what brings you here at drunk o’clock in the morning?”
I turn my attention to Nicolas, the owner, and smile.
“I could ask you the same thing. Isn’t it a little past your bedtime, old man?”
Instead of giving me attitude like he usually would, his shoulders drop, and he sighs.
“Damn kids these days keep messing me around. I’ve had three waitresses quit on me in the last two weeks. All without notice.”
I purse my lips while I scan the menu on the wall behind the counter, even though I know what I’m getting. I never deviate because why would I mess with perfection?
“I’ll have the meat feast delight with extra cheese. Also, I might know a couple of girls who need a job right now. They’re hard workers and need a break.”
He looks at me for a moment before leaning over the counter.
“I can’t pay much. It’s why I usually hire students, but they can eat for free here whenever they like.”
“I’ll let them know and get them to come see you.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Dulce.”
“I know.” I grin, making him chuckle.
“Go take a seat and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”
I do as he asks, moving to the quiet spot near the large glass window.
As I pass the now empty table the couple was sitting at, I wonder briefly if the dude ran after her to patch things up or if he walked to the closest bar to drink away his sorrows.
I sit and kick my feet up on the chair opposite, catching the attention of the table of students, who have now shifted their gaze to me. Or at least my legs.
Normally I’d mess with them a little, letting my hand slip between my legs while licking my lips or something that makes them dick dumb, but I’m tired and perhaps a little burned out.
I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes, my mind drifting back to the last job I was working.
Surviving high school the first time around was hard enough, but the second time it was torture. Not for the reasons most people would be loath to relive that period in their lives. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that I was in high school, even if it was hundreds of miles away. It’s just that I’m not the same girl I was back then. No, that’s not exactly right. I am the same girl. I just don’t have to hide her anymore.
Being different in high school is hard. Everyone feels misunderstood in some way or another, but for me, it was true.
I didn’t fit in because I’m an anomaly. I look like a cheerleader. Fit tight body, wide bright smile, just the right mix of sexy and sweet with long dark hair that had many a jock and teacher adjusting their dicks as they pictured their hands buried in it while I sucked them off.
The inside of me, though, never quite fit the outside. Not many girls like me have a fascination with blood or, more importantly, making people bleed. They don’t get turned on by violence or deliberately put themselves in danger just to feel alive.
I’m not quite at the stage that I need a padded room and a pretty white jacket with lots of buckles. I’m not a psychopath or a sociopath. I care about others, feel guilt and remorse, pain and empathy. I just have a skewed view of what I deem right or wrong, and have no problem dishing out a little retribution when necessary. That’s how I met Sugar, the queen of our little crew and the glue that binds us all together.
I’d gone to college, not because I was thinking about my future, but to get away from my past. I wasn’t haunted by it, I just wanted to start a new chapter, preferably in a new fucking book.
I wasn’t special in that regard. My daddy shared his dick far and wide, breaking my mama’s heart. She would cry and bitch about it, but she’d always take him back. She spread her legs for the man, knowing he’d take another piece of her heart with him when he left, scattering it across the country as he moved from one willing pussy to the next.
When an angry husband shot my dad in the head while his dick was still inside the guy’s wife, I laughed. There was a poetic kind of justice about it.
My mom was heartbroken, grieving for a man who had already been lost to me for years.
In a way, it was the same with my mom. I know she loved me. She spent time with me. She worked as a special effects make-up artist on dozens of movie sets, and I got to see some amazing things other kids my age were green with envy over. But there was always something missing between us, or maybe there was something between us that shouldn’t have been. Accusations on both parts—hers, an assumption that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, my dad would have stayed. He wouldn’t have, but hopes and wishes are whimsical and rarely based on fact. My anger, however misguided, was fueled by my thought that she should have given me the parts of her heart she so frivolously gave to a man who didn’t earn them.
Not that it mattered now. With me gone, she is free to wallow in a well of self-pity. And I get to feed my bloodlust without ending up in prison. At least for now.
“Yo, Dulce!” A hand waves in front of my face.
I jolt and look up at Nicolas.
“I’ve been calling your name, but you were away with the fairies.” He slides the pizza box onto the table in front of me.
“I boxed it up to go. You look like you’re dead on your feet.”
“Thank you, I am.” I search through the duffle bag for my wallet, knowing it’s in here somewhere, but he waves me off.
“It’s on the house. If you are serious about finding me some help, you can eat here free for life.”
I slip my wallet back into my bag but make a mental note to sneak him a large tip next time I’m here, and he’s not looking.
Standing, I place a kiss on his cheek before tossing the bag over my shoulder and picking up the pizza.
“You know, if you didn’t keep giving away free pizza, you’d have more money to pay your staff,” I tease, but he shakes his head with a quirk of his lips and walks back to the counter.
“Be safe, Dulce.”