by Liv Bennett
He listens, again very focused as if he’s performing major surgery. When I rev the engine, the whirring sound becomes louder.
He gets busy under the hood again. Then, I see him rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. He raises his hand for me to stop. “It might be the fuel injector. There’s an unusual clicking sound. The injector could just be clogged up or weak and need replacement.”
I perk up in my seat. “Does that mean it’s safe to drive a few more miles?”
He beams with a heart-warming smile. “Yeah, you should be fine. But, I would go to a mechanic as soon as possible.”
Just then, I realize how tense my muscles have been during the whole ordeal. I lean back against the seat with a long exhale, feeling a heavy weight lift from my shoulders. Keeping his smile, he closes the hood and walks toward his car.
“Have a safe trip,” he shouts out before sliding into the driver’s seat and merging into the traffic.
I gape after him, smiling, and close the door, realizing my foolishness for not remembering to thank him or ask his name. His brief flirtation had the effect of a lobotomy on me.
I’ll probably never see him again. The next time I find myself stranded on a highway, he won’t be there to rescue me. The whole experience makes me want to wish for a round two.
On the other hand, it’s for the best that he left without giving me his name, or God forbid, asking for my number—not that I’d consider myself in his league. I need my full focus on my sister’s death. I can’t afford any distractions. And definitely not by anyone like him.
Ch 3
A Perv & A Slut
The journal Tara kept of Ruby’s calls is one hundred pages long. I’m beginning to think she was stalking her physically as well as online to be able to gather the depth of information she had on her.
There’s information about Ruby’s refusal to stay in the college dorm and her desire to rent an apartment instead. She stayed in a hotel for a week while looking for a room in an apartment. Tara had recorded everything down to the exact hotel room Ruby was in.
I’m certain the room had no connection to Ruby’s death, but I specifically ask for that room when I check in.
After seven nights in the hotel, Ruby moved into a two-bedroom apartment with a girl she met at her new job as a part-time server at a pizza joint in downtown Boulder.
I remember the day she called me to tell me all about her new job and the awesome friends she’d made there. I listened to her half-heartedly and couldn’t understand why she’d work when both Tara and my dad were practically throwing money at her. Now I know. According to my dad, Ruby wanted to follow in my footsteps and wanted to work and take care of herself without any help.
If I’d known about the impact I had on her life… I don’t know, actually. I’d probably have kept on being a jerk to her just to get back at my father and Tara. I’m as soulless as them.
It’s impossible not to be engulfed with guilt while reading Tara’s journal. She even printed out Ruby’s profile photo on Facebook. After her death, we requested Ruby’s password from Facebook. There were several back-and-forth emails, but nothing came of it. Her iPhone was password-protected and even more impossible to unlock.
Everything was set to private on her profile, even her friends list, so we have only her profile photo and a couple of other pictures to look at, not any different than a random stranger who stumbles upon her profile.
In her photo, Ruby is standing side by side with a man whose head is cropped out with Flagstaff as the background. Except for ownership of a green shirt and a general estimation of his height, we know nothing about him. Her smile is as shy as it is beautiful and makes me wonder if the man beside her was a love interest of hers. Tara’s journal includes nothing about a possible boyfriend.
Like the majority of teenagers, Ruby would have avoided talking about boys to her parents, but to me, her older sister? She probably would have loved to confide in her big sister, but I never gave her the chance. To spare myself the tears of guilt, I close the journal and leave it on top of my suitcase.
When my mind is free of Ruby, thoughts about the handsome stranger from earlier tonight return. I find myself smiling. A lovely story for our grandchildren.
I switch off the lights and slide under the heavy comforter. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day. I’ll have to figure out a way to get a job at the pizza joint Ruby worked at and then dazzle her previous roommate enough for her to sublet me a room in her condo. Tara expects me to investigate not only the roommate but also the police officer who was in charge of Ruby’s case. Easy breezy.
I close my eyes as an unusual wave of peace descends on me despite thoughts of the possible jail time I may face due to messing with a police officer. Sweet dreams about the handsome stranger checking out more than my car fill my head.
I wake up to the beautiful October sunshine in a clear blue sky. The temperature is in the high fifties, so I pick a knee-length blue dress and gray boots to go with it. Everything in the suitcase is brand new and handpicked by Tara, so they’re in line with Ruby’s style.
By making me look like Ruby and hang out at the places she did, Tara must be hoping I’ll attract the same predator that caused Ruby’s death. Desperate circumstances call for desperate measures, I guess. And then, well, Tara doesn’t really care if she puts me at risk.
I find a mechanic within a three-mile distance and with a bus stop nearby, leave the car with them for the day and take the bus to the pizza joint where Ruby worked.
The pizza joint occupies a two-thousand-square-foot building at the west end of the Pearl Street. Downtown has changed a lot since my last visit a few years ago with a lot more homeless and transient people and more banks.
A few minutes before eleven, I stop in front of the pizza restaurant, glance through the glass door and hold up my résumé as soon as someone from the inside looks my way. A tall, slim girl with long blonde hair in a ponytail opens the door for me.
“Hi, I’m Ashley Elwood.” My mother’s maiden name. “I’m looking for a job as a server. I have restaurant experience. If the manager is around, I’d like to talk to him.”
She gives me a friendly smile, likely sympathizing with my situation. When you’re a young, broke college student, there aren’t all that many jobs available that’ll fit in with your class schedule. “Come in. Max has just arrived. I’ll let him know about your job search. Is that your résumé?”
“Yeah.” I hand her the paper that, again, was prepared by Tara. The woman is a control freak.
Taking a peek inside, I notice two other girls buzzing around through the tables to get everything ready in time for opening. I recognize one from Ruby’s Facebook photo—Lena. She has luscious black hair well past her shoulders and a figure that could make professional models jealous.
Ruby committed suicide only two weeks ago, yet that terrifying incident doesn’t stop Lena, who’s supposed to be a friend, from bursting into ear-splitting laughter at a joke. I make a mental note of Lena’s cheerfulness while waiting for the manager.
The girl who let me in returns with a mid-height, very lean man in his forties. I can tell I weigh more than he does. His brown hair has golden highlights and is short at the back and long in the front, the longer strands covering one of his eyes like bangs. That paired with his skinny jeans and tight-fitting button-down shirt screams I’m forty-nine, but everyone says I look twenty-nine. I bet he wears tight cycling shorts for his daily jogs and strikes up a conversation with just about every college girl on his route.
I push my psychoanalysis aside and spread my lips in a warm smile. “Hello! I’m Ashley Elwood. I’m looking for a—”
“Yeah, yeah, Erin just told me about you.” Max waves his hand to silence me.
Erin? I try not to flinch. She was Ruby’s roommate according to Tara’s journal. My shock vanishes when I notice Max running his eyes down my body without any inclination to hide it. The dress starts feeling too tight, too short, and too
revealing with every inch he explores of my body. I work hard not to let my disgust get the better off me.
When his eyes move up at last, he rubs his chin as if to evaluate my job skills by my looks. Erin was only gone for a minute. I doubt the manager, who’s yet to introduce himself, had a chance to take a look at my résumé. It seems all he needs to know is how I look.
He leans his head to the side when the assessing look turns into one of pity. “We don’t have a waitress position available.”
“Oh. All right.” I start to spin around.
“Hold on.” His eyes land on my breasts, his index finger tapping on his lips. As repulsive as his stare at my chest is, I wait as instructed. “We might have another opening for you. We need a hostess.”
“I’d love to work as a hostess,” I say with a high-pitched voice to show my interest. Anyone seeing me would think I’d been offered a job as director of the cardiology department of John Hopkins, judging from my level of enthusiasm. In actuality, I’d love to punch him in the face to make him look anywhere other than at my chest.
“Fantastic. We have a one-day probationary period to see if you fit into our restaurant’s work culture.” He shifts toward Erin and runs his fingers down the poor girl’s arm. “Erin, dear, could you be a doll and explain her job duties to her?”
“Of course.” Erin doesn’t flinch from his touch, although I can see her smile is as forced as it can be. Max makes sure to do a quick once-over of Erin’s body before heading back to the hall he came from.
Although Tara has no entry about the restaurant manager in her journal, I make a mental note to look him up on Google.
I let out a relieved sigh. “That was the fastest job interview I’ve ever had.” I turn to Erin with a grin, this time a genuine one.
Erin shows me toward the cash register. “We’ve been short-staffed for a while. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick up the slack from the servers from time to time. I’m sure Max will move you up to a server’s position in a week or two if he sees you’re up to the challenge.”
She goes on to explain the table numbers, the menu, how I should greet and escort the patrons to the tables, and the workings of the kitchen. Then she introduces me to Lena and the other waitress, Fran.
All three girls are in their twenties, over five feet five and have great figures. I can see Max’s affinity for young hot things. Both Erin and Fran are wearing black slacks and t-shirts with the restaurant’s logo on them, whereas Lena has on the same t-shirt with denim short-shorts that generously reveal her tanned, muscled thighs.
As the first patrons, a family with two kids, gather up at the front desk, I greet them with an upbeat smile and walk them to their table in Lena’s area.
I watch Lena like a hawk as she introduces herself and goes over the menu with the ease of a long-term server. She quickly brings water for the kids and iced tea for the parents. More patrons arrive, and soon most tables are full, and orders are placed.
In my zealous attempt to gather information about Lena, I eavesdrop on most of her conversations with the patrons at nearby tables.
The rents have become prohibitively high all around town. My landlord told me he’s increasing my rent by seventeen percent. I can barely afford the current rent. I don’t know what to do.
I have two kids of my own. Hard to be a single parent on a waitress’ income.
I was taken to the emergency room because of a ruptured ovarian cyst two years ago. I’m still paying the medical bills.
My mom’s store in Puerto Rico got completely destroyed by the hurricane.
Either she’s lying her ass off to fatten her tips, or she’s indeed going through some rough patches. One way to find out. When Erin comes to check on me, I ask her about Lena’s two kids.
She leans toward me and whispers in my ear, “She doesn’t have kids.” She doesn’t need to say more for me to understand Lena’s sly tricks to milk more tips from patrons. Her efforts seem to work great for her. At the end of the two-hour heavy lunch traffic, the purse Lena keeps in her apron is fatter than both Erin’s and Fran’s combined.
Taking advantage of the sparsity of guests following the lunch-hour rush, I leave the front desk for a quick bathroom break, letting Erin know beforehand. When I return, a flushed-faced Lena is waiting for me at the front desk. Her voice is low but inflamed when she says, “You’re not supposed to make a patron wait.”
“I’m sorry. I told Erin I was going to the bathroom.” It literally took one minute.
“All right. It’s your first day. I walked him to the table. But, don’t make it a habit. Max doesn’t tolerate sleazy employees.”
Look who’s talking. Sleazy, huh? “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“What’s happening here?” Max’s voice startles me. I wince, hoping Lena won’t blurt out my bathroom break. If he fires me now, that’ll be the end of my plans.
Lena shoots me a knowing look but doesn’t say a word to rat me out.
“Nothing,” she says with shrug of her shoulders.
Max flicks his suspicious eyes from her to me, not looking satisfied with Lena’s evasive answer, then walks away toward a table with a single patron who managed to sneak in during my one-minute bathroom break.
I mouth a quick thank you in a whisper to Lena to show her how grateful I am so she’ll like me. I feel dirty doing it.
Erin approaches me with a box full of napkins and silverware and an apologetic look on her face. “It was my fault. I had to get the napkins.”
I wave it off. “It’s all right. She didn’t rat me out. As long as I keep the job, I’ll be fine.”
“Max will keep you even if you spit on the floor in front of clients.” She shoots cautious glances around before leaning in toward me. “We’re kind of desperate to hire new staff because of the rumors about the waitress before you that committed suicide.”
I feel my cheeks burn. She’s talking about my sister. How could her suicide affect the hiring of new employees? Did the work environment have anything to do with her suicide? Was Max harassing my sister? Despite my questions, all I can muster is “Why?”
“I don’t know exactly. We used to have a couple of applicants a week. Now, nothing. It’s a small town and people talk. No one wants to be associated with a place where someone committed suicide, I guess.” She starts rolling silverware into white, cotton napkins and stores them in the same box later to be allocated to the tables.
I need to dig deeper into this. Booze should help loosen Erin’s tongue. A girl’s night out with my new colleagues is in order very soon.
“I see.” I point toward the box of napkins and silverware. “Do you need any help with those?”
Her face beams with relief. “That’d be awesome. I’ll take care of the restrooms.” She bounces into the hall, and I lift the box that’s heavier than it looks.
I roll up the rest of the silverware into napkins and start setting them out, beginning with the empty booths closest to the one Max is sitting at with the new patron. The guest’s back is turned to me, so I can only see his brown wavy hair. Max is hovering over the table, scribbling something on a piece of paper, and Lena is busy at the bar.
Without any eyes on me, I sneak closer and closer toward Max’s table, while keeping my ears open for any suspicious talk. Max’s murmurs are hard to make out, and the patron isn’t talking at all.
Lena starts mixing a cocktail in a shaker over her shoulder, making a spectacle out of it by moving her hips and boobs in rhythm. Max, of course, has a sixth sense in matters of sex and cranes his head toward Lena to feast his eyes on her body. Taking advantage of his brief distraction, I carry the box to his table and distribute the silverware rolls beside each plate.
The patron leans against the back of his seat to give me space and thanks me with a gentle tone.
His voice strikes me like thunder, and my head jerks around to get a look at him. Lo and behold, the patron who managed to elude me during my bathroom break is the gorgeous ma
n from last night.
My knight in shining armor!
“Well, hello!” he purrs through a Cheshire grin, his eyebrows arching high, blue eyes luminous and euphoric. “You made it to Boulder!”
He’s more breathtaking under the bright light of the restaurant and renders me speechless. No wonder his face has been haunting me since I met him, but his body? Holly Maria! The gray t-shirt can barely contain the bulging muscles of his arms and chest. It’s as if he’s been sculpted from head to toe with perfection in mind.
Max manages to tear his eyes away from Lena to land them on me, eyebrows frowning. I see Lena stopping her little show and taking casual steps toward us from the corner of my eye.
While trying to avoid attention, I fall right in the middle of it.
“Do you guys know each other?” Max points his index finger from my knight in shining armor to me.
“Nope. Didn’t get lucky enough to find out her name.” The handsome stranger says, his disarming eyes never leaving mine, blue orbs inquiring and teasing when he stands up and holds out his hand to me. “I’m Austin Knight with a k.”
When I hear his last name, I can’t resist a grin perhaps as wide as his and reach for his hand, mumbling my name.
“Ashley Elwood,” he repeats, his voice melodious, soothing.
When our hands touch, my eyes close from the softness and warmth of his skin. That’s him! Soft and warm; his voice, his gaze, even his skin. His fingers wrap around mine like a protective cocoon, and I revel in the moment, disregarding the rest of the world as if I’ve been transported to another dimension.
Austin doesn’t let go of my hand until I jerk it back when Lena literally shouts in my ear, “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“So, you’re working here now?” Austin asks, not giving a shit about Lena’s call to duty for our urgent chores.
