Brutally Beautiful(6)

“Oh, yeah. I’m such a great judge of character. Please. I wouldn’t know a sociopath if he tore off my arms and beat me with them.”

“You ladies need anything over here?” The Ken doll asked a few minutes later, as he wiped down the top of the bar. My eyes zoned in on the sinewy muscles of his tanned arms as he dried off the condensation from our cool drinks in smooth circular motions.

“Oh, yes. Yes I do,” Bree mumbled low.

“Yeah, actually,” I said, as I nudged Bree under the counter of the bar to shut her up, “Do you know of any hotels or anything nearby?”

He offered me a small sad smile. “Love, you’re in the middle of the Adirondacks. You have one campground with a trailer park, a few ranger posts and secluded houses, that’s about it. You both look like you need a hospital, or a cop. Not a hotel. There’s a small town about thirty minutes drive north, where most of the people around these parts live, near the prisons, where the jobs are.”

“Yeah? What kind of jobs can you find there?” Bree asked, completely ignoring the advice to visit a hospital and kicking me with her foot. Oh God, she really wanted to set up camp here because of the pretty Ken Doll. Ugh.

“Regular town jobs. There’s the prison, a school, supermarket, library, and the local POLICE. There’s also that hospital I mentioned, that you so sweetly ignored. Why are you asking about work? Are you girls looking for a job?” he asked, wrinkling his brow. Crap, this did sound like the beginning of a bad horror movie…

I knew if I didn’t ask, Bree would. I could plainly see where her mind was going, right into his bed. “Think you could use two waitresses, just for a few days a week? My behind is way too big to jiggle up there,” I pointed to the empty stage. “I’m Lainey, by the way. And, this is Bree.”

“Lainey and Bree? Are you sure you don’t want to dance? Those names are perfect for it,” he laughed flirtatiously. “I’m Dylan Grayson and you’re hired, but not until that, um, space alien thing you got growing on your face heals. It’s not really working for you. I’m sure you’re both very pretty under all that war paint.” He flipped his bar towel over his shoulder and walked through the back door again.

“I’ve never waitressed before,” Bree sighed next to me.

“I did, for a while in high school,” I replied, finishing my drink. “Let’s try to find a place to stay tomorrow, maybe at the trailer park, and try to get rid of that ostentatious Porsche.” I held up my shaking hands and watched my fingers tremble. “Waitressing isn’t so bad, pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I mean it’s not like being a neurosurgeon or anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, as she leaned her head on my shoulder, “and living in a trailer sounds like loads of fun.”

When our glasses were empty, Dylan walked over and slid over two refills. He leaned his elbows against the top of the bar and smiled at Bree, “So where is it that you come from?” I had to hand it to her, even bruised up she could get a man’s attention. I hoped he wasn’t married.

My head softly fell against my arms and I drifted away from their conversation. Heaviness spread across my shoulders and down both my arms, weighing me down, pulling me under like a fierce riptide drowning me, overcoming me; destroying me.

I stared blankly at Dylan’s lips as he smiled at something Bree said. My vision blurred and I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist trying to focus on the way his accent lingered on each word, but he was just too pretty to watch. Too bright and shiny… “She just had a little run in with an old boyfriend, that’s all…everything is fine now…She’ll be fine…yeah, we need a place to stay…”