That Girl (That Girl, #1)(15)
Jenni heads for the door, and before leaving, hits me with one last compliment, “For not having a life, your hair is super cute and trendy.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Jenni would die if she knew how much time I spend on my hair. Five minutes on the days I get distracted, and that’s the most ever. I was blessed with the perfect hair texture, and it’s straight as a board. It’s truly amazing I have any left after the bottles and bottles of lice shampoo that’s run through it. Mom finally got tired of receiving notes from the school, so she started treating me, but before that she just let the bugs live out their cycle in my hair.
Receiving a hair compliment from a diva like Jenni is a true compliment. Thank you, hair Gods, thank you easy pixie haircut, and bless cheap scissors. I’ve mastered the art of following the lines of my hairstyle. The first time I trimmed it was just a couple months after I left home. Needless to say, I wore a baseball hat for days. Now, I’m an expert on the trim.
My gut does tell me before summer is over Jenni will be dragging me to a salon. She’s been gone nearly ten minutes, and I truly do believe she’s the most annoying person on this planet. However, the silent coffee shop seems a little eerie now.
Chapter 6
Lost at 1,014 Miles
“Oakley, thanks for working late. I know it will put you behind at your waitressing job. I’m so sorry,” Danielle says, closing the door on the walk-in refrigerator.
“No, worries, Danielle. I’m just going to freshen up the bathroom before I have to go,” I reply.
I finally landed a third job. It’s part time and feels like home, waitressing in a diner off the beaten path. By far the best food I’ve ever had. Of course, I’d lie straight to Isha’s face if she ever asks. This will be my third night there. They are giving me part time hours, which is fine while I adjust to adding it to my schedule. I work from seven to midnight. Danielle needed extra help tonight, and I can never say no to an employer.
To this day, I have no idea where my work ethic comes from. Surely not my momma or her boyfriends. It’ll be a mad dash to make it on time now for my shift. Boone’s Diner is only a half of block up from the coffee shop, but I found a route that makes it less than a block to walk back to my apartment. It’s a clear shot straight through an abandoned lot. It’s well-lit and free from tall grass and debris. Of course, there are always dark shadows lurking, but I stay clear of the edges of the lot.
It’s been a little over a week with no sightings of Jenni, just the crazy encounter with her in the coffee hut. The boys must be busy at training camp or whatever, because no more truckloads of hot shirtless guys have graced the coffee drive-thru.
I didn’t realize how hot the driver was until that night while trying to fall asleep. His face was the only thing I could picture. He was by far the tannest of the truckload, with a smattering of a light beard, piercing blue eyes, and plenty of lean muscle. While trying to fall asleep, I kept trying to picture pretty boy. I remember in the moment his looks nearly knocked me off my feet, but after minutes of concentration I gave up. And to think I tossed the driver’s number. Layne? Yeah, it was Layne.
“Bye, Danielle. See you in the A.M.”
“See ya, sweetie. Do you still have that spray I gave you? I don’t like you walking in the dark.”
“Sure do. Right here on my keychain.”
“If you ever need a ride, you always know I’m just a call away.”
“Thanks, but it’s just a couple blocks. Well, officially not even two.”
I feel odd every time I look at the keychain. They are meant for cars, and I don’t have one, but in Denver I found a colorful silhouette keychain of the Rocky Mountains. It was my one treasure to remember Denver by. Instead of leaving it sit on my nightstand, I carry it around with the one key I have.
The nice thing about working at Boone’s is I’m the only waitress on shift. There has been a very steady flow of traffic the last two nights. It’s just enough to keep me on my toes and time moving fast, but not so much to cause a complete panic attack. There’s also only one cook on at night. His name is Larry. He looks like a typical Larry who would cook in a diner at night, but good hell, the man is magic. The last few nights I’ve ordered a bacon cheeseburger to take home. Like I said, the best food I’ve ever tasted.
The first night the manager, Leeann, spent about twenty minutes with me showing me the ins and outs, and then basically dropping me on my head. She handed me a tight white t-shirt with Boone’s scrolled across the front, and on the left hand corner of the t-shirt the name, “Jodie.” She told me if I made it past the three-month mark they’d order one with my name on it. She looked at me with an odd expression when I laughed out loud. She really has no clue how perfectly fine I am with wearing a shirt with a name on it other than Oakley.
“Hey, Jodie,” Larry says as I walk in the back, which leads directly into the kitchen.
“Hi, my name is actually Oakley.”
“How was your burger last night, Jodie, or Oakley, or whoever the hell you are?”
I almost drool, remembering. “Just like the first night, which was pretty much mind blowing.”
“Glad to hear,” he says.
And that’s all that comes from Larry. Kelly, the waitress on shift, catches a glimpse of my face in the kitchen, tears off her apron, and is out the back door without a word.