Page 19
“I, uh…”
“Don’t you worry none, I’ll see them back on their bus.” He winked.
My eyes bugged with concern, but he was gone before I could utter a word.
“Brenna, if you’re not too busy gawking, could you–?” my boss began to hound from the door of the kitchen. “Tina, get in there, help her out. What do I pay you women for?”
I shook my head, chasing away the shock of the bizarre incident and hurried to the elderly woman near the counter.
By dinner time, my feet were killing me, my neat braid was frazzled, and my company apron was stained with powdered sugar from the French toast I’d served this morning. I couldn’t wait to go home and couldn’t have been more thankful that I was down to only three more hours.
My sense of relief was premature, the next two hours dragged by so slowly I washed the tables twice. All of them. I filled the ketchup, dusted the blinds, swept and mopped the dining room and the restroom.
“I’m going to grab a breath of fresh air,” I sighed, my gaze lingering on the clock like I’d taken personal offense to its existence.
Tina jerked her chin up, acknowledging what I’d said.
I let myself out the back and leaned against the porch ledge, adjusting my shoe so my heel slid free. The sudden lack of pressure was short lived, the pounding in my feet returned tenfold. I knew it was a mistake, but the temptation got me every time. I didn’t smoke, but I enjoyed taking in fresh air once in a while during a shift. I never lingered long, just enough to clear my head and give my feet a break.
It probably wasn’t more than five minutes before I headed back to the front counter. Tina was leaning over the end, deep in conversation with a few men in vests.
Yellow thread made the words, Satan’s Riders, stand out like a neon light.
I grabbed a rag and began to work the opposite end of the counter. I focused so hard on the coffee stain I was scrubbing off, that I almost startled when Tina brushed my arm a few moments later.
“Listen, Kate shut down the kitchen and my ol’ man needs to get to work early for the night shift. I don’t want the kids alone… Do you think you could handle this by yourself for what little is left of the shift?”
I was already nodding, even before I saw the clock.
It was almost twenty after nine. The parking lot was empty save for the pair of bikes. Tina grabbed her purse, giving me a brief side hug on her way past, “I owe you one, Brenna. Truly.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I dismissed.
She probably didn’t even know I had children of my own. I was a private person and preferred to keep things that way. I returned my attention to the counter, working my way toward the register and customers as I did so.
The bells on the door chimed, but the entrance was clear by the time I turned to see who’d caused it to sound. The back of a Satan’s Rider vest was about all I could make out through the window.
“Huh,” I mused, giving a glance toward the remaining biker.
A man with a full head of long, red hair shot me a wink that instantly left me scrambling to return my attention to the counter.
When the bell sounded again, I assumed it was his friend, returning and didn’t immediately bother looking up.
Content that the stain was clear and the man’s attention moved on, I glanced that way after a few moments.
“I swear, you got the prettiest hair,” a scratchy voice that made my spine crawl slurred from behind me. My space was instantly overtaken with the foul stench of sweat and something chemical. Fingers combed my scalp, locked around the braid and tried to bend me back.
I screamed, even if he hadn’t maneuvered me that far. I wasn’t used to being manhandled, especially without warning.
The provocative laughter behind me made my eyes water.
“You smell as good as you sound,” he rasped, his tongue flatly washing the roundness of my cheek. A greedy hand clutched at my thigh, dragging the hem of my work uniform up beneath the apron.
“You really are as dense as they come, aren’t you?” that familiar Henshaw accent boomed.
The grip on my hair loosened, but not enough for me to wrestle free before something loud popped behind me. His fingers snared in my long hair again, plucking another scream from me as his fiery grip lit up my scalp.
“Goddamn it, son. You let go of her!” Henshaw boomed, even as another thunderous blow landed on my assailant. I was terrified of what he’d do to me and panicked about what would happen if they began to trade blows around me. I’d never felt so helpless.
