Page 37 of Dirty

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

I waved a handful of receipts. “There’s another $150 in credit card tips.”

“We were slammed,” she said. “It’s like that on Fridays. Everyone comes in from work, and they’re in and out quick. Then, there are the regulars who come anyway.”

“Almost $500 in one shift?”

“That’s about right for a Friday, yeah.”

I looked at the pile of cash. “Holy crap.”

“Wait ‘till you work a weekend. It’s crazy good money,” she said.

I separated the piles. “I love this job.”

After we paid the restaurant we walked into the parking lot together.

“Are you working tonight?” I asked.

“No. I have the night off.”

I looked at her. “You want to go somewhere?”

She grinned. “Sure. What are you thinking?”

It was 4:30 in the afternoon. Although I didn’t really feel safe going out at night yet, I wasn’t scared to go out during the day, depending on where she wanted to go.

“I don’t know. Just around the corner, on Harbor. Maybe one of the places on the water. Just sit and talk?”

“Sure. I’ll follow you.”

“Okay.”

I drove around the corner, past the more expensive restaurants, and ended up parking at Joe’s Crab Shack on Harbor Drive. I didn’t particularly care for chains, but the place was on the water and was likely to be a mellow atmosphere compared to other bars.

We sat at a table facing the water and each ordered a beer.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked.

“I’m not really girlfriend material,” she said. “No.”

She truly was pretty, and looked like a little Barbie doll with grotesquely large boobs. I was intrigued by her response. “You’re a man’s dream girl. Blonde, big boobs, you’re pretty…”

“Thanks.” She grinned, and then shrugged one shoulder. “It just doesn’t work for me.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Guys cheat on me. I’m not, I don’t know. I’m not whatever I have to be to make them want to be loyal or whatever. They cheat. I find out. We break up. It happens over and over.”

I took a drink of beer. “Maybe it’s not you, but the guys. You’re picking the wrong ones or something.”

She looked down at the table, scrunched her nose, and after a moment, looked up. “I don’t think I’ve ever picked one. They pick me.”

“Pick the next one.” I lifted my bottle of beer. “A good one.”

She chuckled and raised her bottle. “You’re funny.”