Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I wasn’t like my brother.
I couldn’t remember everyone’s order without writing it down.
Sometimes, I had to write it down, then double check to make sure that I’d read what I’d written down correctly.
Most of the time I got it right.
Sometimes, I could barely read my own handwriting.
“The kind of name I had no part in choosing,” I returned as I placed the food down in front of her. “You want a refill on coffee?”
“Nah,” she said. “I drink too much of it, and it makes me have to shit.”
I didn’t bat an eye at her words.
I’d heard them often enough.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bring over a water.”
“Dr Pepper,” she said. “That’s the only reason I’m living right now. I don’t pollute this temple with water.”
I snorted and walked away, getting her a Dr Pepper and taking it back to her table.
When I got back to the kitchen, the food for Koda’s three-top came up, so I grabbed it up and started to take it over.
When I got there, there was a woman standing up at the edge of the four-person table, and three men in leather sitting down, staring at her expectantly.
I elbowed her aside and said, “Here’s your food.”
The three men grunted and sat back, allowing space for me to set their food down.
“Who had the jalapeño?” I asked.
“Me.”
The deep, resonating voice did weird things to my chest.
I shoved those feelings down so hard that they would never be heard from again.
Nope.
Not going there.
Don’t have time.
Would probably never have time.
“Did you hear me?” the woman asked, crowding me close once she’d recovered from my shove.
“I heard you,” the jalapeño lover said. “But I don’t think it’s mine.”
There was a long pause and then, “You’re joking, right?”
“Ketchup only?” I asked.
“Me,” the one that looked like Elvis Presley with his great hair and stunning eyes said.
I set his down, and assumed the lone one without food was the owner of the double meat.
“Need anything else?” I asked, impatient.
“You could escort her out,” Elvis suggested.
I looked at the woman and huffed, “Are you ordering?”
“No.” She curled her lip up at me. “Like I would eat here.”
The way she said it, sounding so utterly disgusted, had my back up.
“Then why are you here?” I demanded.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m talking to my ex. We’re going to have a baby,” she lied.
I snorted.
I’d spent a lot of time with liars in my lifetime—I could thank my little sister Calliope for teaching me how to spot them—and I knew damn well and good when a lady was lying.
“When did you find out?” I asked.
She blinked. “Uh, last week.”
I nodded. “How long since you missed your period?”
She blinked. “Um, two weeks.”
I nodded. “Were you on birth control?”
“Yes…” she lied again, her eyes gazing down and to the side before she returned her gaze to me. “It was a missed pill or two.”
“What kind of birth control pill were you on?” I pushed.
She sighed. “The low-hormone one.”
“Plannon?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered quickly.
“I just made that up off the top of my head,” I told her. “You’re not pregnant. You’re trying to win him back. I’m sure that he’s a great guy, but no guy is worth lying about being pregnant. Women get such a bad rap as it is. Now we have women like you who are lying and cheating your way into men’s lives, and the rest of us have to work twice as hard to get in there. Trust me when I say, if he doesn’t want you, you need to respect that. Don’t demean yourself like this.”
The woman’s eyes blazed. “I’m pregnant.”
“You may wish you were pregnant, but you’re not. You’re trying to save face and win him back. Probably, you fucked up, and he called your bluff. You kept thinking he’d come crawling back, and when he didn’t, you started to get desperate. Trust me when I say, you’ll find someone that’s willing to put up with your bullshit. You’re young, beautiful, and obviously very rich. Find some unsuspecting man that’ll give you everything you want and more, but don’t come into my diner anymore unless you’re actually going to order something. And if you leave me a bad review on Yelp or Google, I’ll ruin your fuckin’ life.”
There was a snort from the table behind me.
“Fine, I’ll have a coffee.” She crossed her arms.
“We’re not serving coffee anymore. It’s noon. The last batch of coffee was dumped out once Mrs. Pearl told me she didn’t want anymore. I don’t make coffee again until tomorrow morning,” I said.
The woman harrumphed.
“You could order a grilled cheese,” my brother said as he came to the men’s table from behind me. “They’re fantastic.”
“The grease is disgusting on those.” She eyed the jalapeño guy’s behind me. “Posy, will you please talk to me outside?”