Page 17 of Carjacked
The clatter of porcelain and the radio’s murmur playing an old tune fill the air. A middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a smile that looks like it’s been practiced a thousand times approaches and pours us both coffee.
“What can I get you?” she asks, pulling out a notepad, her gaze flitting between us.
“Two Bacon Cheeseburgers,” I reply.
Lila clears her throat. “And a chocolate milkshake.”
I grind my teeth as we can’t be frivolous with the cash we’ve got, but after what I’ve put my starlight through, I’ll bend the rules on this occasion.
I sip the coffee, the bitter taste lingering on my tongue. The waitress nods and makes a note of our order before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“So, starlight, how about we get to know each other better?”
She glares at me. “Are you serious right now? Why would I want to get to know you?”
I arch a brow. “Because you called out my name in a bathtub while rubbing your pretty little cunt.”
Her cheeks darken, and her resolve wavers. “Don’t talk like that here.”
I tilt my head. “Why not? Does it get you wet?”
She crosses her arms, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “No, it doesn’t. Could you stop being vulgar for one second?”
I chuckle, raising my hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll behave,” I promise. Leaning back, I study her face and defiant blue eyes. “So, tell me,” I start. “What are your dreams in life?”
She seems taken aback by my question, her eyes widening. But I simply wait, genuinely curious about what she wants from life. After a moment of surprise, she sighs and looks away, biting her lip. “You really want to know?”
“Absolutely,” I reply earnestly.
“Well,” she starts, focusing on her coffee cup, “I’ve always wanted to be my own boss. I love working for the newspaper, but the hours suck.”
I raise a brow, intrigued. “And how do you plan to become your own boss?”
“I’ve got a blog,” she admits. “It’s been doing quite well, and I want to turn it into a full-fledged business. I write about personal experiences and have a forum where women can support each other. I’ve already got a couple of sponsors.”
I take a moment to process this. “That’s impressive,” I say, truly meaning it. “So you’re a writer then?”
She flushes but nods. “I guess you could say that. My mom and dad support me pursuing it as a career, but my boyfriend...”
I growl. “I wouldn’t mention your boyfriend if I were you.”
Her face pales, and she nods. “Fine, not everyone in my life supported me quitting my job at the newspaper even though I’m already making decent money from the blog part-time.”
“Sounds like your boyfriend was a fucking asshole,” I state.
“A lot of the time, he was.” She looks resigned as she stares at her untouched cup of coffee. “What were you convicted of?”
I glance around, making sure no one’s in earshot. “Are you sure you want to know?”
She hesitates. I see the war in her eyes as she considers the question before nodding. “Five counts of murder and three counts of armed robbery,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “And I assume you were guilty of the charges?”
I smirk. “What do you think?”
“After witnessing you murder a man, it’s safe to say you’re guilty,” she admits. “But, Ash, there’s always a chance to change your ways.”
I laugh. “Do you truly believe that? The darkness is a part of me.”