Page 12 of Pack Baines

Juniper

Textbooks seated in the passenger side of my car, having driven straight to the library to pick them up, I find myself heading in the direction of town instead of straight back to my dorm.

Driving around the picturesque town has a perma-smile tugging at my lips, only the constant hustle and bustle of people milling around keeping the smiles at bay. A people person, I am not, and seeing more and more people, mainly fellow students, milling around has nerves prickling down my spine. It sets my teeth on edge, my body growing more and more tense as I watch students head in and out of different stores, laughing with one another, not a care in the world. If only I could be so carefree.

Gritting my teeth, I drive around for another long minute before I see the flash of a sign, a Help Wanted sign hanging in the window of a cute diner that looks more promising than any of the clubs or bars I used to work at.

Slotting the truck into a nearby parking spot outside the diner, I climb out into the fresh Fall breeze, tucking my hair behind my ear and straightening my clothes so they sit a little tidier than they feel. I bite my lip, eyeing the cute building before me. The sign reads ‘Gabby’s’ in big, red, sprawling writing across the top of the building, a red trim bordering the exterior walls. I spy red-leatherbooths inside, only a few patrons seated, a waitress dressed in a cute apron over a white shirt and red pants.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I roll back my shoulders and head into the diner. I ignore the looks I feel as I enter, heading straight to the counter, placing my hands down gently as I look for someone who works here.

That comes in the form of a burly-looking woman that could easily bench press me one handed, her red hair curled beneath a Gabby’s cap, her shirt stretched over firm muscle. I scent something spicy, bittersweet and leathery, maybe Saffron? It tickles my nose as it leaks from the woman, her hand resting on the counter before me, biceps bulging as she leans close. I’m pretty she’s an alpha, her entire aura giving ‘big dick’ energy that would intimidate as fuck out of me if she wasn’t grinning ear to ear, the friendliest look on her face as she slides a menu across the counter for me to look at. Then, with a voice pitched higher than I would have assumed, she says, “Mornin’, sugar. What’ll it be to drink?”

My mouth blows raspberries with my next exhale, and I decide to take a seat as I peer wide-eyed at the woman who looks like she eats at least twelve eggs and a basket of spinach for breakfast. Her pinky looks like it could snap me in half.

“Coffee, please,” I rasp, clearing my throat right after, blinking as the hulking woman winks and whisks herself away, footsteps almost silent despite her size. Thankfully, it gives me a chance to shake myself, snapping myself out of my stunned state at the pure juxtaposition of the woman. At least she’s friendly, right? There’s no doubt I would have walked my ass right back out of here, tail tucked between my legs, if she’d have simply scowled at me. I know how to fight, I know how to defend and stick up for myself, but I’m not a tank. I know when I’m beat, and Big Betty here would surely kill me with one strike.

When she returns, I quickly read her name tag, almost rolling my eyes when I read her name. Gabby slides the coffee across to me, along with the sugar and a spoon tucked on the saucer beneaththe cup. She’s still smiling, a sweet look that almost has me relaxing, as she asks, “You know what you want to order, sugar?”

“Uh, just the coffee for now, but thanks,” I reply, trying to find my lost courage to ask her for a job.

“Sure. Holler if you change your mind,” she offers, winking again before she makes to leave.

Before she can take a step, however, I blurt, “Actually, I was wondering if you still had any jobs available?”

Gabby pauses, eyeing me closely, before she nods her head, red curls falling from under her hat. “Sure do, hon. You looking for work?”

I nod in return, rolling the sleeves of my leather jacket up my arms. “I just moved to town. I’m starting at North Five on Monday, but I need a job that could fit around my schedule.”

“Wouldn’t be an issue here, sugar. We stay pretty quiet in the day. It’s the afternoons and evenings that we need an extra pair of hands,” she explains, and hope blooms in my chest. “You work in the food industry before?”

Taking a sip of my coffee after pouring an ungodly amount of sugar into the cup, I sigh before answering. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve worked at restaurants, clubs, and bars. Wouldn’t take long to train, just need to be shown the ropes.”

Gabby’s face morphs into a contemplative look, and she looks to think about it for a moment. Then she wonders, “When can you start?”

My mouth parts in shock, and the burly woman laughs with glittering amusement in her dark-green eyes, holding her meaty hand out for me to shake. I slip mine into hers, long fingers dwarfing mine, and she introduced herself. “Name’s Gabby. If you can start tomorrow, then you’re hired. I’ve not had much luck hiring the right kind of staff.”

She jerks her head at the waitress I saw through the window earlier, chewing bubble-gum and twirling her bleached hair aroundher finger as she yaps her pretty little head off to the customer trying to enjoy his eggs in peace.

Biting my lip to stop myself from smiling, I turn back to Gabby, and she grins widely. Clearly I’m not hiding my amusement very well, so I introduce myself to distract her from the fact that I find her funny. “Juniper Baines. I don’t like people, so you won’t get that problem from me.”

The house-sized woman laughs brightly, clapping the back of my hand before releasing me. She jerks her head to the back of the diner and says, “Come on, sugar. If you’ve got yourself a spare minute, I’ll show you around now and see if there’s a uniform in the back for you to take with you before you go. You can start tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Monday is more of an introductory day at the school, from what I gather, so my classes won’t start until Tuesday, so I can do the evening shift. I can get you a copy of my schedule so you can fit me in wherever,” I explain, taking my coffee when I follow after her to the back of the diner.

“Perfect. Let me show you the ins and outs, then, hon,” she drawls, rolling her eyes at her other waitress as she cackles loudly. “I’m gonna fire that heifer, I swear.”

Snorting into my coffee cup, I almost splutter the liquid over the floor, pulling it away just in time to cover the sound with a cough. At least I’ll be amused while I work here, even if I have to deal with the public.

***

The day crawls by at snail’s pace once I get home, and I find myself time checking like a criminal, my nerves notching higher and higher with every passing minute. Since I’m not due to start school for another two days, I’m left sitting in my dorm, a stack of new textbooks sitting on my bare desk, a new work uniform hanging in my closet, and what little clothes options I have sprawled over my unmade bed.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” I grumble to myself, annoyed that I’m even worried about something as stupid as what to wear to this dinner. I’ve been staring at the same clothes for the past hour, trying things on like they’re going to look different to how they usually do. As though they won’t look as run down and grubby compared to the designer stuff I know the guys wear. Even as kids, I’d catch them in expensive clothing, from t-shirts that cost the entirety of one of my outfits, to sneakers that I could sell and use the money for food that would last me two weeks. I never begrudged them for it, because why would I? Each of their packs are well off for money, so if they have it to spend on their kids, to treat them with all of the nice things I never had or would ever have, then I simply considered it a better way to spend their money than how my parents were.

Frustrated that I’m even worrying about something as ridiculous as outfits, I decide to go for my usual torn-up skinny jeans, low-cut, oversized, gray tank that’ll reveal flashes of the lace bralette I’m wearing, and my leather jacket. I nab my gray ankle boots with a killer five-inch heel, strangely more comfortable in heels than flats after the years of having to wear them as a bartender and waitress at sleazy clubs and bars, and decide it’ll do. I’m not trying to impress anyone, after all. It’s just dinner, a chance to catch up with long-lost friends. That’s all.

Shaking my head, I drop into the desk chair as soon as I’m dressed save for my heels, and use a makeup wipe to clean my face, having already showered as soon as I returned from my errands. Since my hair has dried in beach waves that I could never have recreated with my old flatiron, I leave it alone, opting to simply tuck the right side behind my ear, revealing the line of earrings pierced through my ear. With my hair out of my face, I apply mascara, eyeliner, and a lick of Chapstick, and call it good.

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