“I really” My words are cut short when Tracy throws open the door. I just shake my head again, trying to push the words past my lips. I’ve seen it for years with my own father and how he treated my mother. I know all too well how men act when they don’t get the responses they want.
My anxiety grows with each pull of my breath. Hell, I’ve been in here for two minutes and I feel like I’m having a panic attack.
I don’t want to cut my serving hours only to spend more time with him in his cramped little office alone. I try to match his in retreat but only hit the desk. “We’ll cut your serving time,” he suggests, taking a step towards me. I hope that one day I can do it for free, but at the moment that just isn’t possible if I want to keep a roof over my head and food on my plate. I’m just thankful they pay me at all, because I would do it for free. I owe them so much after what they did for my mother and me. At least, not without giving up my shifts at the shelter, and that’s not something I’m willing to do, even if the pay is way worse over there. “I really don’t have the time.” I tell him the same thing I’ve said every time it’s been brought up. He’s double my size, and I don’t mean in muscle or height. Trapped with a man twice my age, maybe even pushing three times my age. Normally I just mumble a, “no, thanks,” on my way out the door, but now it’s closed and I’m trapped. I’ve turned down the offer twice now, but he keeps telling me to think on it. I’d stay later after waiting tables and help with paperwork and orders and get a raise, but I think Sam has a few more strings he wants to add to the positionthings I want no part of. “You think about my offer?” He cocks his head to the side like he’s giving me the world, not a management position at the diner. The waitresses here at Moe’s always keep our stuff stored back here, where we clock in and out for our shifts.
Or maybe my luck is about to change, I think, as he shuts the door to his office, trapping me in. It still creeps me out, but he’s never tried anything. He slowly pulls them up to my face as a smirk plays at his lips, showing off his yellow-tinted teeth, not a care that he’s openly running his eyes over my body. “Already clocked out.” I turn to look at Sam, whose eyes are trained on my ass. I’ve been on my feet for the past twelve hours and haven’t slept in over twenty-four, and it would be my luck that if I went back to the shelter, it would be a busy night. I would have done it if they needed me I’d do anything for that place.
I really didn’t want to have to cover Kim’s shift at the women’s shelter tonight and was thankful she was able to make it in. A mixture of annoyance and relief fills me. Sam’s gravelly voice from years of smoking barks from behind me as I hang up the phone in his back office.
0 kommentar(er)
