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Chapter 3
Men will never know how it feels to have a fart creep forward and go up inside your vagina. Then you gotta do a weird bend to re-fart your fart.
-Text from Waylynn to Darby
Waylynn
“What. The fuck. Was that?” I asked, staring in horror at the woman that’d just decided that I needed a stern talking to.
“That was Mrs. Miller,” my new boss, Trudy, said. “Just ignore her. She thinks that she needs to be all up in everyone’s business.”
Honestly, it was kind of humiliating to have to find a job waiting tables in the slimiest diner in town when I should be working, utilizing my degree.
Gotta earn the bucks some way, baby. It doesn’t matter if it’s waiting tables or working a pole. Money’s money.
My dad’s words ricocheted through my brain, and I wanted to murder him all over again.
When I said that I’d be okay working a pole, he’d told me under no uncertain terms was I allowed to do that.
But, after working at this particular diner this afternoon, I was fairly certain that a strip club would be the better way to go for me.
Which was why I was not on my best behavior when he walked in.
My give a damn was officially busted after what Mrs. Miller had just shared with me.
“I’m going to go take a smoke break,” Trudy said. “You can handle that man, right?”
No, I wasn’t sure I could handle Darby Valentine, but I’d give it the ol’ college try.
I stared at him as he walked in, not breaking eye contact with him until he was close enough that I could read his shirt.
My lips twitched when I read what it said.
“If you’re reading this the right way up, unhook me from the stirrup?” I laughed.
“I bought it for Banks, but he wouldn’t wear it,” he said as he sidled up to the bar that was separating me from him. “What are you doing here?”
I blinked.
“Ummm,” I said, “I’m working,” flicking my shirt with one hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re in the shittiest place in town that caters to the low-lifes, drug addicts, and convicted felons,” he said, taking a disgusted look around. “I saw your truck out front and thought, there ain’t no way in hell that she’s working here. But I had to come see just to make sure.”
I shrugged. “I need a job. This place is close to the house and I can walk here.”
He frowned. “You can walk?”
I nodded.
“I can walk,” I repeated. “I mean, I guess I could take my horse, Canteen, but I’m not sure I would want to tie her up all day.”
Darby rolled his eyes.
“You couldn’t find anywhere else?” he pushed.
I tilted my head, then leaned into him.
A roach skittered across the counter, making a beeline for my arm, and I yanked myself back with a squeak.
Darby slammed the napkin dispenser down onto the roach, and four more poured out of the box holding them.
I gagged.
I hated bugs. But, more so, I really hated roaches.
Like, on a scale of one to ten, ten being I’m dead, I was a thirty-seven.
There’d been one time that I’d had to stay at my mom’s house—my mom who was living with a new boyfriend—and had to use my inhaler.
It’d been a true emergency, so I’d been pretty quick about taking the cap off and putting it to my mouth.
When I’d done so, roaches had crawled out from the mouthpiece and straight into my mouth.
From that point forward, I’d been extremely careful about what I did and didn’t do—and what kind of places I allowed myself to be.
Yeah, that was the last straw.
Without thinking about it, I snatched up a completely sealed water bottle and walked out, leaving Darby staring after me.
It was only as I was getting into my truck that he caught up.
“Just like that, you’re going to leave?” he asked, sounding amused.
I nodded once and slammed the door.
But, since it was unbearably hot outside, I rolled down my window, cranking it using the handle until it was all the way down.
He watched me with amusement.
“Your dad let you use his truck today,” he said.
Yes, he had.
“I asked to borrow it for my first day. I needed to see how far it was to be able to walk it tomorrow,” I answered. “Jesus, this place is a joke.”
I started my dad’s truck up and put it into reverse.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
I looked down the street to the only classy joint on the entire block and pointed.
“I’m going to go there and see if I can find something,” I answered.
His mouth fell open.
“You’re going to work at Judy Boobies?” he asked incredulously.
I was fairly sure that Judy Boobies didn’t actually go by that name, but I’d heard more than five people call it that today.
