Page 7 of Her Grumpy Biker
“Okay,” she answers, the soft smile never leaving her face. “Thanks for coming in. I know it wasn’t easy.”
I furrow my brow, unsure how she saw right through me. All I can do is nod like the oaf I am and take off toward the front door.
A few moments later, I’m on my bike, hightailing it back to my house before I get any more crazy ideas like scooping Camden up and riding off into the sunset.
4
CAMDEN
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else, hun?” the waitress at Bottles & Bites asks.
I shake my head no and try to loosen my grip on the mug in my hands. “Just the tea,” I tell her with an apologetic smile. I’m sure she’s annoyed that I’m taking up an entire table while only ordering tea. “I’m waiting for someone,” I offer as an explanation.
She nods and heads to the table across from me to check on her other customers. I feel bad for not ordering a meal or at least an appetizer, but the two-dollar mug of tea is already more than I can afford at the moment.
Hopefully, that won’t be the case after this meeting.
I take a sip of my chamomile tea, though it does little to calm my nerves. Rent is due tomorrow, and I’ve got nothing. I’m still waiting on my first check from the bookstore, and life is far more expensive than I thought it would be. Even after saving up money for over two years, it took nearly every penny to pay the deposit and get a few days’ worth of groceries. Add on gas money and fees to get the utilities running, and I’m down to my last ten dollars. Well, eight, after paying for tea.
My landlord made it clear to me that rent is to be paid on time. He doesn’t tolerate overdue bills, and he won’t hesitate to evict those who can’t pay up. I tried asking for an extension yesterday and was met with a rant about entitled kids who think they deserve the world just because they ask for it. I apologized, and he must have seen the desperation in my eyes, because my landlord said he knew someone who might have a job that pays cash, same day.
Initially, I was relieved to have a means of paying rent and restocking groceries. It seemed like a perfect solution. It's quite convenient that my landlord has those kinds of connections. The tiny voice in the back of my head tells me it’stooconvenient, but I shove that thought way down deep. It’s not as if I have many options. Besides, I don’t even know what the job is yet.
The door to the diner swings open, revealing a gaunt man with wild black hair and an unkempt beard. He’s skinny but tall and a bit twitchy - definitely the kind of person I’d cross the street to avoid. His eyes scan over the booths and tables until they meet mine. I was told to look out for a thin man with dark hair, a long beard, and a green sweatshirt, and this guy fits the description.
The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach grows stronger with each step he takes toward me. He doesn’t sit down at the table or even shake my hand; he just breezes past me and says, “Wait five minutes and meet me out back.”
I’m left blinking and breathless with my tea in hand. What have I gotten myself into?
Part of me wants to walk out, hop in my car, and just keep driving until I find a new town. Then I remember I have eight dollars to my name, which won’t get me very far. I’m out of ideas on how to make rent money in less than twenty-four hours, so I should really be thankful for this job, whatever it may be.
Besides, what do I know about how the world works? In the short time I’ve been away from my family and church Elders, I’ve come to realize I was lied to about so many things. To say I grew up in a sheltered environment would be the understatement of the century. I wanted to escape, to have my own experiences, and figure out life for myself. Now that I’m actually in the real world, I need to take advantage of every opportunity.
It’s temporary, I tell myself. If I don’t like the job, I don’t have to do it ever again. I should still receive almost seven hundred dollars by the end of today if I complete the task I’m about to be assigned.
With my little motivational speech out of the way, I leave two dollars on the table along with whatever change I have for a tip. It’s not much, but I certainly understand that every little bit helps.
I slip out the back door next to the restrooms and take a calming breath.Just get through today, I repeat in my head. How many times have I said that to myself over the years? Too many to count.
“Hey, girlie,” a gruff voice says from behind a dumpster.
I cover up the grimace on my face with a fake smile. This might not be a fancy office job, but first impressions still matter. “Hi,” I greet. “I’m Camden. My landlord, Peter, said you had a job–”
“Keep it down,” he whispers harshly. “You want everyone in town to know what you’re up to?”
I furrow my brow. “What am I up to?”
The man stares at me, his dark gaze sending a chill down my spine. My heart races the longer he looks at me, and I taste bile in the back of my throat when his lips twist up into an evil smirk.
“A delivery,” he replies, his tone a bit more chipper. “You’re perfect for it,” he adds. The man strokes his beard and looksme up and down. I’m wearing a long-sleeved sweater dress and knee-high boots, but I feel naked and vulnerable when he stares at me like this.
“Uh, thanks?”
“Bigger girl,” he clarifies. “You’ll fit into the coat just fine without attracting attention.”
I furrow my brow as heat rises to my cheeks. The familiar blush burns my face when I realize I’m “perfect” because I’m fat.Why does that matter? Did he mention a coat?
“I’m delivering… a coat?” I ask.
