Stepbrother Badass: A Street Romance by Jezzie May

Author:Jezzie May [May, Jezzie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, Urban, 90 Minutes (44-64 Pages), United States, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00TPZML9Y
Publisher: Jezzie May
Published: 2015-02-16T05:00:00+00:00

Rainbow, Baby

I got quite a few stares, because I couldn’t keep from crying now that I was away from Ethan and the restaurant. After a few blocks of angry tears, I pulled my name tag off and put it in my pocket. My uniform was a pale pink mini-dress, buttoned up the front. Maybe it would just pass for a regular dress?

I didn’t want to go home and change, because I was afraid I wouldn’t have the strength to come back out to look for a job. And I couldn’t rest until I found one, not right now. I looked at myself in the smudged window of a convenience store. I patted down my hair a little and smoothed down the dress. To my eyes it still looked like a uniform, but removing the name tag helped. Maybe I just looked like someone with not a lot of fashion sense.

I noticed a sign in the window that said the store was hiring. I thought about going in, but this was Apu’s on the Corner. It got broken into or robbed at least once every couple of months, it seemed like. Besides, I wasn’t 21 yet, and a big part of Apu’s sales seemed to be liquor.

Waitressing didn’t pay much, but there were tips that made up the difference. I doubted I could find anything else fast anyway. So I made a mental list of the restaurants in a decent walking distance and decided to hit them one by one. Hopefully I’d have a job or be asked to come back for an interview later before the day was out.

I glanced at myself again in the glass door of Chanti’s Diner before going in. I got goosebumps looking at the guy far off in the reflection, but I didn’t know why. I turned to look at him, and he was facing the opposite way, talking on a cell. I shrugged, sure I didn’t know him, and went in to apply.

A short, fat guy greeted me when I asked for the owner or manager, his black hair now a fuzzy white all over his head. He smiled broadly, and I instantly hoped I could work there. He seemed like the grandfatherly type, and I wondered how long he’d owned the place. He motioned for me to sit at a table with him.

“I’d like to apply as a server,” I said. “I’ve worked as a server for several years, and did kitchen prep before that.”

“Years?” he said, his smile one of disbelief now. “How old are you?”

Now, I knew that he wasn’t allowed to ask me that. He could ask if I was old enough to legally work, or legally sell or serve alcohol, but an outright question of age wasn’t allowed. The thing is, nobody much worried about the rules down here, and so I smiled back and answered.

“I’m twenty. Started doing prep work at The Rib Crib when I was just a kid, and worked my way up to waitressing.”

He nodded.

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