Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4) - Page 9

Holy crap. An actual sign. “I’ve waited tables, worked catering, and tended bar. I don’t have any references on me, but—”

“You’re hired. Come ‘round tomorrow morning and we’ll get you set up.”

Roxy slid out of the booth. “Got an apron, an order pad, and a safe place where I can stow my things?”

Her new boss blinked. “Sure, but don’t you want the free breakfast and new employee orientation before you start?”

“You’re a waitress short, and I don’t have anywhere I need to be. I might as well make myself useful.” And meet some people in the process. Circulate a little. Shed her air of mystery. “On-the-job training works for me.”

“Well, okay. I like how you think. Follow me.”

Ten minutes later, she had an apron, an order pad, and the name of the other waitress, Nadine, who practically hugged her on sight. She also had a section of tables all her own. Roxy smiled and approached a four-top occupied by three old timers ready to get their gossip on. Time started to fly.

Hours later, she had a pocket full of tips and lots of “welcome” wishes from new acquaintances who insisted they saw the Belle in her. Several people remembered her mom and shared kind words and fond memories. Most everyone remembered her grandmother, though kind words and fond memories were a little scarcer to come by in Lillian’s case. Seems Grandma had been an all-around hard ass.

Per Addy’s instructions, she finished lowering the blinds over the big street-facing windows and then dropped into the last booth. Addy came over carrying two glasses of lemonade, put one in front of Roxy, and sat down with the other on the opposite side of the table. “You aced your on-the-job training. Still interested in taking this on for a spell? I can promise you thirty hours a week and probably deliver a few more here and there.”

She took a long swallow of lemonade before nodding. “Put me on the schedule.”

“You got it. Come at seven tomorrow to fill out paperwork and have a pre-shift breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” She knew all too well life could turn one-hundred-and-eighty degrees in an instant, but usually not in her favor. Five hours ago, she’d been sitting in the back of a police car certain she was about to be arrested for hitchhiking, if not grand theft. She’d managed to wiggle her way out of that tight fix, and now she’d satisfied two of her fundamental needs—a source of income, and a sense of purpose. The only thing missing was an affordable place to stay. “I don’t suppose you can point me to a cheap, clean motel within walking distance?”

Addy paused in the process of lifting the glass to her lips. “There’s the Riverview Inn. It’s just a couple blocks down, and very nice. I don’t know that I’d call it cheap, though. A regular room will run you ninety bucks per night. The river view suites cost more.”

“Ouch.” She couldn’t hold back a wince.

“But,” Addy continued, “my family owns a house in town, and we have a furnished basement apartment available. Just a small one-bedroom, but it’s safe and affordable. We let it for a hundred dollars a week, basic utilities included, and I can deduct the rent from your paycheck if you like. Want to take a look?”

Roxy scrambled out of the booth. “Give me a second to grab my things.”

Her new boss drove the one block distance in her midnight blue Grand Caravan, which still had the new car smell, but nevertheless reminded Roxy of the not-so-grand Caravan her family had toured around in for the better part of her childhood. In a lot of ways, that ancient minivan had been the closest she’d ever come to a home. She shook the melancholy thought away when Addy parked in front of a white brick townhouse with black shutters sitting on a tidy plot of grass. A narrow front walk bisected the lawn, and leafy dogwoods formed a canopy overhead.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Addy said as she led Roxy around one side and down narrow concrete steps to a basement entrance. A twist of a key, the groan of a solid oak door that could use some sanding, and they stood in the open-concept entryway of a recently remodeled income unit. By Roxy’s standards, it was pretty freakin’ fancy. To her right, a kitchen gleamed like a tiny-house showplace of cottage white and stainless steel. Two science class stools tucked under the short side of the L-shaped counter gave it an eat-in option.

“Here’s the home theater,” Addy joked and walked deeper into the space. This part of the room amounted to a wide hall. A tan loveseat occupied one wall, a flat screen TV hung on the opposite, and a narrow rectangular coffee table sat in between.

“I love it.”

“Hold on. You haven’t seen the bedroom yet.” She pointed Roxy down a short hallway that branched off the living room. It led to an honest-to-God bedroom with a full-sized bed blanketed in a puffy, cloud-white comforter. A coffee-colored low-weave rug covered a good portion of the refinished hardwood floors. Charmingly mismatched nightstands and dresser completed the space.

“Bathroom’s through there.”

Roxy poked her head into a compact bathroom with all the essentials, including a glass-enclosed shower and pedestal sink.

“I’ll take it.”

“But wait. There’s more.” Addy retraced her steps to the hallway and opened another door Roxy had assumed was a closet. “Laundry room.”

Sure enough, the small, plain room housed a washer and dryer, along with an overhead shelf for supplies. No hoarding quarters and hauling bags of dirty clothes to the laundromat? Roxy walked in and hugged the washing machine.

Her prospective landlord held up the key. “Does it check all the boxes?”

“This place checks boxes I didn’t even know I had.” Roxy reached for the key and then hesitated. “Do you need first week’s rent, or a security deposit, or, I don’t know…a kidney?”

“Nah.” Addy placed the key in her hand. “I know where you work.”

It seemed too good to be true. Then again, wasn’t she due for a little good luck? “Thank you.”

Tags: Samanthe Beck Private Pleasures Erotic
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