Stone Cold - Ashby Crime Family

For the right price.

Fuck, I just hoped Bonnie had enough fight in her to last until I found her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bonnie

“More coffee?”

The trucker smiled up at me with heat in his eyes. “Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll have a big slice of that pecan pie too.” He winked, staring at my ass while I poured the coffee and watching me while I walked away.

After two weeks of slinging hash on the overnight shift, I understood exactly what Fred meant about the jeans. It took a few days to get used to the appreciative looks and the literal chop licking, but they didn’t bug me. Especially when a few extra smiles had translated into a few extra dollars.

“A refill for me too, darlin’?” The early morning crowd had come to get breakfast so they could beat morning rush hour traffic, which meant the end of my shift was always busy. Always.

“Here you go. Anything else?”

“How about a smile?”

I flashed my best school girl smile and his own lit up. “Have a great day, sugar.”

“You too, sir.”

Waitressing was exhausting work, and I had a newfound respect for the profession, for the hustle it required each and every day, no matter what else was happening in my life. If I didn’t feel like smiling, then I better not feel like eating. And I liked to eat, especially half-priced meals at the diner before I found a cozy place to park, which I could pay for now, and sleep before my shift the next night.

“Hey Bonnie Marie, what are you still doing here?” Fred frowned at me through the kitchen window and made a pointed look at his watch-less wrist.

“I have thirty more minutes and three tables in my section. Besides, I don’t see Lisa yet.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of the busty twenty-year-old who was a hit with the customers. “She’ll be late to her own funeral, I swear.”

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” I shook my head at Fred’s odd sayings. They were colorful and often profanity laced, but he was a nice guy with a good heart. “Anyway, I’ll be done soon.”

“Meatloaf and fries today?”

I nodded as I loaded up two trays for a table of five bachelors looking to fill up on greasy food before their hangovers kicked in.

“I’ll bag it up for you.”

“Thanks, Fred. You’re the best.” And he didn’t ask a lot of questions, though I was sure he had plenty.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled and shooed me away.

The rest of my shift flew by in a hurry, adding another twenty-two bucks to my runaway fund, in addition to the forty I’d made overnight. That meant another week of gas and discount diner food for only a day of work. If I kept it up, I’d have more than enough to start over in six months.

“See you later Fred!”

He waved me off, and I grabbed my small purse and the white paper bag filled with meatloaf and French fries before pushing out into the early morning sunshine. The day was already hot, and I wondered if it would eat too much gas to run the air conditioner while I drove.

All thoughts of good luck and air conditioners fled when I caught sight of the flatbed truck loading up a very familiar blue car. “Hey, wait! That’s my car!”

The Hispanic man with a rounded gut looked up and shrugged, a small frown on his sweaty forehead. “Got a repossession order lady. That means I have to take it.”

My jaws were clenched so tight it felt like my teeth might shatter in my mouth as I breathed out through my nose, slowly. Hanging on to the last thread of my sanity was hard, but it wasn’t this man’s fault and I wouldn’t be rude to him. “This can’t be happening.” But it was.

“Look, if you need to grab a few things, go ahead. Five minutes.”

It was all I could ask for. “Thank you, sir.” I said as I cursed my parents in my head. How could they be so freaking evil?

“No problem,” he grumbled and gave me some privacy which I really didn’t need because I had exactly three bags, two filled with clothes and one with my laptop and other valuables. I grabbed them with tears in my eyes and went back inside the diner, finding a back booth to eat my meal.

Alone.

I refused to cry. I mean, what would be the point in shedding tears over another event that couldn’t be changed? This was my life now, a series of mistakes and disasters. It wasn’t all ‘be a good person and good things will come to you.’ That was a lie that my parents told me, that priests told their flocks, to control them. To keep them from asking too many questions and trying to become too happy.

This, homelessness, was my reality. Being a good person hadn’t stopped my dramatic fall, so what was the point?