Read Online That Girl by H.J. Bellus - Free Book Online Page A

thoughts and move forward.
    “Get a move on. Go bus that table and get back to work.”
    Looking up, I see Larry watching me through the cook window. He’s right. Get back to work. The men’s meals only totaled up to twenty-three dollars and fifty cents; guess that’s one hell of a tip.
    The group of men waltz back through the front door like nothing ever happened, settle at their seats, and continue eating. I peek over my left shoulder to see if Lincoln came back in with the rest. I make direct eye contact with him. His plate is still half full, and all of his attention is on me. I watch as he pushes his chair back and begins to rise. Slowly I signal no with my head, giving him the clue – not now.
    Glancing at the clock, I see there are still two and half hours before I can retreat to my tiny room with food and forget about this night. Every single piece of it, from the dickheads who reminded me of everything I despise about my past, to calling Lincoln by the wrong name.
    I check on their table one last time to ask for refills and hand out bills. The first thing I recognize is the blood painting Lincoln’s knuckles. My eyebrows instantly shoot up at the red smears. I notice Lincoln’s reaction when I spot it, and he just shakes his head signaling not now to me, just like I did to him.
    “Anything else I can get you?”
    The table falls to a very awkward silence, and nobody speaks up. All their gazes land on Lincoln.
    “We’re good, thanks, Jodie,” he replies.
    I can’t tell from his response if he’s pissed off at me, or just ready to get the fuck out of here. I don’t blame him for wanting to run, after the circus that just went down.
    “Okay, here are your checks. Let me know when you’re ready.”
    All the men pull out their wallets and lay down their money.
    “We won’t need any change. Every Thursday we come here for bacon cheeseburgers. We have this down to a science,” Lincoln tells me.
    I glance around the table at all the ten-dollar bills lying on top of the checks. My eyes hit the last check where a twenty-dollar bill is sitting, and I look up to see Lincoln sitting right in front of it.
    “No change,” he says.
    I try to argue with him, but he doesn’t give me the chance, rising from the table. Standing like a fool, I watch as they all leave the diner. My heart sinks, and the flashing fool sign proudly plastered to my forehead shines a little brighter.
    The rest of the night goes smoothly compared to the beginning. Several more tables, lots more burgers, no more fights or demanding orders from Larry. Counting my tips while waiting for the last minutes to tick by and the graveyard waitress to come in, my jaw almost drops to the ground. The highest night yet while waitressing. Ideas of some new home décor flash through my mind. I’ve been itching to spruce up my room a bit. Maybe get that vacation-type getaway chair I wanted in Junior’s hotel, or some color splashed on the walls.
    “Okay, get out of here,” comes a voice.
    Like I said, no one here is overly friendly. It the same gal who has relieved me the last two nights, and she’s spoken the same exact five words.
    “Have a nice night,” I carelessly say, hoping someone hears me.
    I use the front door to walk home for a couple different reasons. There’s not a light in the back, and it’s a clear shot to the empty lot and apartment from the front door of Boone’s. Before exiting the diner, I forgot to locate my keychain with the pepper spray on it. It’s probably because I was distracted by bagging up some ice to take home for my wrist. I’ve been in throbbing pain ever since the man grabbed me. I was hoping like hell Larry or the other waitress didn’t see me take the ice, but then again I’m sure they wouldn’t give a fuck. All of a sudden, I notice a dark figure walk from the shadows, causing me to scream and toss the bag of stolen ice up into the air.
    “It’s okay. It’s me,” Lincoln says, walking out into the