“I think you know, princess.”
Fuck.
I can’t tell if I’m turned on, terrified, or both. All I know is that he’s making me feel things with just a few words that I don’t usually feel until I’m, well, much further on with other guys, let’s say.
The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly makes me jump and I look up to see Brian standing in the door tothe kitchen. Stepping away from Diablo, I pretend to arrange the plates on the trolley. Diablo hasn’t moved a muscle, as though he has every right in the world to be standing here, and that he hasn’t been distracting me from my job or standing inappropriately close to me.
He must be staring Brian down, because when Brian glances at him, he disappears back into the kitchen with the expression of a child who’s been caught doing something wrong. Yeah, Diablo tends to have that effect on people.
“Well we can’t talk now, I’m working,” I say, desperately trying to keep my voice calm and distracting myself by organizing the condiments.
“So when?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to stall, this isn’t exactly a conversation I’m dying to have with him.
“What time does your shift finish?”
“3 a.m. Why? You want to talk then?” I ask, knowing there’s no way in hell he’ll agree to that.
“Sure, is your car here?”
“Firstly, I was joking, and secondly, I don’t have a car.”
“How do you usually get home?”
I shrug. “It depends on the weather, and how tired I am. Sometimes I take the bus, sometimes I walk.”
A look crosses his face, but I can’t work out what it is; I thought he was angry but that makes no sense, why would he be angry that I walk or take the bus. Although, trying to interpret any emotions he feels is definitely a complete waste of my time.
“I’ll pick you up at three.”
He hands me a hundred-dollar bill and walks away. I follow, the guys are standing by the door waiting for him, each of them giving me a wave and yelling thanks as they leave.
What the fuck was that?
Rather than trying to process what just happened, I head to their table to clear it, hearing their bikes start up outside before they ride off in the direction of the clubhouse. As I’m collecting the plates I calculate their food probably came to thirty dollars maximum. Fucking asshole, flashing his money around by giving me a hundred dollars and not even asking for change.
At the register I pay for exactly the cost of their food and drink and put the rest in an envelope addressed to Brian, to cover the cost of soup and slices of cake for Señor Perez for the rest of the month. I’d rather Diablo’s money goes to help someone else than in my pocket, even if that seventy dollars is practically the same amount I’ll earn for this entire night shift.
The rest of my shift passes without incident; the usual truck drivers needing their coffee and people returning home late from their own night shifts and not wanting to cook. Usually, I pass the time by reading, or even writing on my laptop, but tonight I’ve been too distracted. It’s the norm for time to drag during the graveyard shift, but tonight the clock seems to be moving faster than ever towards 3 a.m.
I shouldn’t complain; this is my last shift of the week, I have a few classes tomorrow and then the whole weekend off. And it’s okay, Diablo’s probably just messing with me again, he won’t show up and I can go home as normal, he’s probably asleep at the clubhouse. I relax, of course he isn’t going to show up, why would he ride all the way out here just to pick me up, or talk, as he said. I’m worrying for nothing.
Then I hear the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot…
Fuck.
Chapter 4
Diablo
Iarriveatthediner five minutes early and decide to wait outside, choosing to watch her clear a table through the windows instead of going in. There’s no plan here, even earlier in the diner I didn’t know what I was doing. I told the guys I was going to pay her for the food before we left.
But after I’d watched her all night; the way she chatted with the old guy over pie, seeing her giving him that open laugh and smile she uses with Donovan and the others, and then the view of her in that fucking uniform, showing all of her curves. Shit, I just wanted to be close to her again.
When that pendejo Brian interrupted us, I could have killed him. All I could smell was the vanilla coming from her hair, and I know my words were affecting her, then he had to go and fucking ruin it. It was probably a good thing though, otherwise I might have never found out that she walks or catches the bus home.
What the fuck is she thinking? What is Donovan thinking? He must know she works here, how does he think she’s getting home? Doesn’t he know how dangerous thisneighborhood is? My anger is building again, so I take a couple of deep breaths; then I’m distracted by the sound of the doors.
