Page 6 of Dirty Little Secret
Chapter 3
Zandra
“Cute outfit,” the manager of Mynt said as he looked me up and down. “Nice legs. It’s good to see you don’t mind putting them on display.” Wearing a short black leather skirt with a white button-down top, I had tied my shirt in a knot in front to show off my belly button piercing. I was the epitome of hot nightclub waitresses everywhere.
“Yeah. I’ve been doing this waitress thing since I turned eighteen. I’ve pretty much got it down pat now.” I pulled the long braid I’d put my hair in over my shoulder, stroking it as I looked into Rob’s gray eyes. His pupils got big, telling me he liked what he saw.
By now, I was used to having my body raked over by men’s eyes, and it didn’t bother me to be the center of attention. As long as the scrutiny came with a paycheck, I could suck it up.
Rob trailed his long fingers along one of my shoulders. His dark hair was parted low on the left side. Some type of product made it shiny, helping him keep it slicked back. He wasn’t my type at all. He was the kind of guy most people would call a guido—maybe not to his face, though.
“And how many years have you been doing this now?” he asked.
“Eight years.” Placing my hand on my hip, I defied him to say something about my age. Though I was still young and as fit as any one of the younger waitresses, I knew a lot of managers liked to stick to the under-twenty-five crowd when it came to their waitresses.
“Twenty-six,” he mused as his eyes met mine. His lips pulled up to one side. “Your body might not give it away, but you can see it in your eyes, Zandy.”
“Well, it’s a good thing no one will be looking at my eyes, then, isn’t it?” Sashaying my ass, I walked away from him, earning a wolf-whistle. The sound made me smile. That whistle meant money, and money was all I cared about.
“Does that mean she’s got the job, Rob?” Taylor chimed in.
I turned around to look at him as he answered. “If she can start tonight, she does.”
“I can.” Hurrying back to them, I found myself grabbed up by Taylor, and the two of us jumped up and down in our sky-high heels. “Yes!”
Now I had a nice apartment with a bedroom all to myself and a job that Taylor promised would make me lots of money. More money than what I’d been making in Chicago.
On the drive back to the apartment, the two of us chatted away excitedly about being able to work together again. Taylor stopped at a light then screamed, “Yes! Together again! We’re gonna rock Charleston, Zandy!”
“We rocked Chicago,” I agreed. “I know we can rock this place too.”
Looking to my left, I thought I recognized a guy from high school. That had been so long ago, it seemed. He looked right at me, gave me a wink, and then Taylor took off so fast that I didn’t get the chance to even wink back or see if he recognized me.
I was pretty sure he hadn’t. I no longer looked like the bookish, shy girl I’d been back then. Nearly eleven years had passed since I’d been in town, since I’d been that person. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me.
And I prayed that one man, in particular, wouldn’t. If he was even still in the around—which I highly doubted.
The blue streaks in my hair would offer me a bit of protection, should I happen to encounter someone from my old life here. This hair choice was something I never would’ve done when I was a teenager. And I wore a lot of makeup now, too. It was what waitresses did. I didn’t make the rules; I just followed them.
Revealing clothes, too much makeup, hair that stood out—I was dressing for the job I wanted. And I was pretty certain not one of the people I’d known back then would come to the club I’d be working at. Even if they did, no one would ever think the sexy woman who waited on them was the same mousy junior from high school who’d left town without saying a word to anyone.
“Did it piss you off when Rob said he could see your age in your eyes, Zandy?” Taylor asked me as she drove too fast down the street.
“No.” I pulled a pair of dark sunglasses out of my purse and put them on. “I can see it too. There aren’t many ladies in my age group who still do this sort of thing. Being twenty-six, many women my age have already hung up their heels. And have replaced their Mustangs with minivans, yuck!” We laughed uproariously at my little joke, which wasn’t too much of a joke at all.
Taylor zoomed around a corner, making us both lean to one side, laughing like hell all the way. “So why haven’t you settled down, Zandy? I mean, you haven’t even dated any guy seriously. What’s up with you?”
Where to start?
Pain. Anguish. Guilt. Along with a healthy side of resentment and regret.
I’d never told anyone about my unexpected pregnancy, or any of the life-altering events that followed. Maybe it was time I did. Maybe talking about it would help me begin to heal from it. If anyone could truly heal from a thing like that.
Even though I wasn’t sure how Taylor would take it, I decided to spill my guts to her. “Dating would mean giving someone a chance to get close to me and taking a chance of falling in love. And when two people fall in love, they eventually decide to procreate. And I’ve done that already. It ended badly. And I don’t want to do it again.”
“You had a miscarriage?” she asked as she took another hard left.
The Nissan Altima felt like it had tilted onto only two wheels, making me scream with a mix of terror and excitement. “No! Shit, girl. You’re a crazy driver!”
