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She quickly accepted the delivery job and backed out of the parking lot. A short drive later, she had the donuts delivered to the office workers celebrating a birthday and was back on the road with a fresh out-of-the-fryer glazed confection in hand.
She brought it to her lips and moaned at the indulgence she didn’t get much of these days.
Life was kicking her ass a little bit. She hated to admit that even to herself, but shereallythought earning a college degree would get her a job right away. The things she’d pictured as a naïve twenty-two-year-old differed a lot from reality.
She’d envisioned a prestigious and exciting job in journalism and coming home to a modern, elegant apartment in the city.
Well, she was twenty-five now. Those delusions were burned out of her head by the exhaust fumes she inhaled upstairs in her apartment over the garage, and running errands for people who had more money than time didn’t come with much notoriety.
But she was doing better than most of her family members had. That had to count for something.
Her phone dinged with another notification from Quick Bunny. She pulled over at the gas station on the main street running through East Canon and checked her phone. A box needed picked up at one place and delivered to another.
Easy peasy.
She paused when she saw how heavy the box was. Almost as heavy as she was.
No matter. She might be petite, but she was strong. She could handle it.
She texted the person who needed the service rendered.
I can pick this up for you ASAP.
Did you see the weight?
Yes. I can handle it. I have a dolly.
Not a complete lie. She did have a dolly, just notthatkind of dolly. But she’d figure something out.
Lark accepted the job and got the address.
Buzzing around the city earning money in her air-conditioned car with a donut in her belly and fresh coffee in her system put her in a good mood. She switched on the radio and bopped to a popular tune about young dreams that were actually fulfilled.
When she pulled into the driveway of one of the better homes on the edge of town, she cut the music and the engine.
As soon as she climbed out of her economy car, the front door of the house opened and a man appeared. He wore jeans, a nice polo shirt and loafers.
She threw him a wave.
“The box is sitting there.” He pointed to the side of the driveway. “I have to run.” He strode to a sports car parked on the street, got in and drove away without so much as a glance her way.
“I’ll just get the box,” she said to no one.
She strode across the pavement and glanced at the taillights of the car that just drove away.
“Feel free to leave me a good review if you’re happy with my service,” she mocked.
Sheesh. Guys like thatneverleft reviews let alone decent ones.
“I won’t hold my breath waiting for that tip either.”
She circled to the back of her car and looked inside. She moved aside a box filled with some garage sale junk. She was supposed to deliver the goods to the local charity donation bin, but she’d gotten sidetracked and the box was still here, that dolly she claimed to own sitting on top. It was missing an arm, and most of the blonde hair on one side of its plastic head had been plucked out by some sadistic kid.
She quickly walked over to the wooden crate. It looked bulky and too big for her short arms. Damn her parents for giving her the short genes. Her older brother hit six feet in nineth grade, and she hovered around the five-foot mark.
She crouched to pick up the box—lift with your legs—and couldn’t even budge it an inch off the ground.
She stepped back, moved to the other side and tried again.
