CHAPTER ONE – Give Me Reason
Hi Everyone,
It occurred to me that I haven’t done a lot in the way of Teasers, Quotes, or Excerpts for Give Me Hope – So rather than completely torture you and give you a teaser, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you might like to read the first chapter?
*Please Also Note* Amazon (for sure) offers everyone a 10% Sample of the book, available for you to download and read before purchasing an e-book, or if you’re shopping online, through your computer, you can read it right on the Amazon Page.
In the case of Give Me Reason you get – The Prologue, Chapter One (here) and a portion of Chapter Two.
And now, for your reading enjoyment I present – Chapter One of Give Me Reason.
The chilly October air has me huddled inside my hoodie. My feet are swollen and sore, and I’m flat-out exhausted, but I slowly stagger into the diner that I started working at about a month ago.
Waitressing at Garrison’s Diner is far from my ideal job, but what can I say? It’s a job, and the tips are…well, they’re tips. I’ve managed to survive. For now. It’s Tuesday, usually a day off for me, but Nyssa, one of the other girls who works here, needed the evening off, so I stepped up to take her shift. Right now, every little bit helps.
“Hi, Viv,” Laura calls from behind the counter as the bell on the front door announces my entrance.
“Hi, Laura,” I say back, fake enthusiasm in my voice.
“How are you doing today?”
“Fine, I think.” She gives me a quizzical look. The same look she gives me every time I give her that answer. I just nod slightly at her.
Laura is in her mid-fifties and has been working in this diner for at least the last thirty years. Her hair is nearly all gray, and the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes only appear when she smiles, which makes me think her smiles are genuine. She is very warm and motherly. Maybe this is why I find her so hard to handle some days.
I head toward the back to stow my bag, shed my hoodie and change into my stark white tennis shoes: a uniform requirement to go with your typical diner garb of a pink and white smock that flatters no figure.
I slide my hoodie off — not that the sweatshirt does much against the chilly Minneapolis rain — and notice the small bump rising from between my hips. I shiver. I’ve lost so much weight since the trip to the hospital two months ago that everything seems bigger and more pronounced on my body. My knees seem huge compared to the rest of my leg. My collarbones, shoulders and ribs are eerily prominent.
Looking back down at the bump, I realize that my boss, crabby old Bartie, is going to have a field day when he figures this out. He’s quick to think about the impact his staff may have on him and his precious diner. Thank goodness it’s covered by my apron. For now.
I take a seat on the bench in front of the four lockers in the employee area and sigh. “How did we get here?” I say to no one. I can’t believe that it’s been two months since that asshole put me in the hospital. With each passing day going a little more quickly than the last, I’m finally beginning to feel more like myself, but the overly friendly, bubbly personality that I used to have after I got away from my mom is still lost inside.
But I don’t want to dwell on it anymore; I know I’ll just end up in a crying heap on the floor. I take a deep breath and stand. Tying my apron around my waist, I stuff my hoodie and bag into the locker and head back out to the dining room, grabbing my timecard along the way and punching into the ancient time clock. It’s four in the afternoon. I can already tell it’s going to be a long night.
When I step back out into the diner, I’m greeted by the classic fifties diner décor in black, white, chrome and red. It no doubt looked great at one time, I suppose. Red faux leather booth benches, white tables with chrome trim that now sport a weathered, well-used look. On top of every table, jukeboxes and bottles of ketchup and mustard sit alongside sugar packets and napkins in old-school metal holders. The black and white checkers on the floor continue up the side of the counter that separates the dining room from the kitchen. The countertop itself is white with cherry red trim.
“Viv, there’s a gentleman in the corner that just came in. Would you mind?” Laura says as soon as I clear the swinging door. I’m pretty sure Laura makes a point of giving me as many tables as she can because she knows I need the money. It’s either that or laziness. Either way works fine for me; I’ll take what I can get.
“Sure.” I reach for a menu and head over toward the far side of the diner.
As I approach table twelve, I realize that its sole occupant is wearing a rather expensive-looking suit and tie. Having come from trailer parks in the middle of Podunk Nowhere, Everywhere, my idea of an expensive suit is something you’d find at JCPenney. But this…this looks to be more than that.
“Good afternoon,” I say, my southern accent echoing through the diner. You usually can’t hear the accent, but it seems to come out when I’m trying to be friendly. I set the menu down in front of him.
“Thank you.” His voice is deep, raspy. A bit of an accent rolling off his tongue. He grabs the menu and opens it. I cringe internally when I notice something stuck to the front cover. Ugh, that’s so disgusting.
I shake off my mortification at the dirty menu and tell him, “Today’s special is roasted turkey, mashed ‘tatoes, gravy, with a side of veg’table medley.”
I see him shake his head. “Would you eat that?” His question throws me off guard and I scowl at him. Right now I’m so hungry I’d eat a cow. Raw.
“Of course,” I say softly. He is quick to catch the reverence in my voice about the mention of food. His head snaps up, hard, and he looks straight at me. His eyes are a deep blue-green. Ocean-like. Piercing straight into me. His gaze has me feeling like all my secrets are pouring from my body. It’s unnerving and I try to tear my eyes away, but it’s like he’s got me under a spell. After a few heartbeats he releases me from his stare.
“So the special is not your favorite thing on the menu. What would you eat?” he asks, his voice rasping again. I still can’t place the accent, but it’s definitely not American. Irish maybe.
“The barbecue bacon burger is really good. With fries.” I lean in a little and whisper slightly, so I’m not overheard by Radar-Ears Laura. “Avoid the slaw,” I advise him. Having lived in Georgia a good portion of my life, I can say with authority that this slop Bartie calls coleslaw is a travesty. He nods in response and I find it hard to pull away. His scent has registered on me and I’m immediately drawn to him even more. It’s warm, clean. He smells of leather and a delicious cologne. Committing the scent to memory, I back away. “You want a few minutes?” I ask.
“No,” he says, sharply, and with a strong sense of authority. “I’ll have the barbecue bacon burger, no slaw.” I smile. “Fries, a Coke, and a side of mayonnaise.”
I write down his order, though I don’t need to. It’s committed to memory, but my ass-hat of a boss has this thing about proof. He seems to think everyone is stealing from him. “Anything else?”
“No.” That authority is back in his voice. It’s strange: His tone isn’t threatening or demanding, it just projects a sense of confidence and maybe even a little cockiness. Nonetheless, something tells me that this man knows what he wants and is not to be messed with.
“Okay, darlin’, I’ll be back with your Coke,” I say and turn toward the counter. As I walk back, I can feel his piercing eyes on me. I’m tempted to turn around just to show him I’m not one to be intimidated by a stare-down, but I don’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, he might get the wrong impression and think I’m flirting with him. Friendly maybe, but nothing more than that; I’m in no position to be flirting with someone intentionally.
“You were over there a long time,” Laura says to me as I reach for a glass.
“He was having a hard time deciding what he wanted to eat,” I say back, trying really hard to not be rude.
“Oh reeeaaallyyy…” she says, dragging out the last word.
I look up at her, shocked by her reaction. “What?” I say.
“You mean to tell me you weren’t checking him out while you were over there?” I just shake my head and go back to filling the glass with ice and Coke. “Well he was sure checking you out.”
“What’s your point, Laura?” I say, and she glares at my tone.
“My point, Vivienne, is that he was checking you out and you flat-out ignored him. He’s gorgeous. What is your problem?”
My eyes prickle with tears. My problem is that I’m broken and damaged and I don’t need some deranged man to lust after right now. “I have a lot on my mind,” I say out loud. Laura is insanely nice and sweet and — lest we forget — motherly. She doesn’t need to know all the gory details.
“You always have a lot on your mind. You’re twenty-two years old, what more can be on your mind than going out with friends and having a good time?”
Oh, if you only knew. “You know that’s not who I am,” I say as I turn back toward Mr. Suit. I look up in his direction. He most certainly is watching me, his eyes a bright light in his otherwise dark features.
I finally take a moment to really look at him. He looks to be not much older than me, actually. Maybe twenty-five or twenty-six? His hair is black, slicked back except for a stray strand falling into his eyes. His jaw is hard and sharp, leading into a very strong, square chin. His lips are a soft pink, full, and he has deep-set, bright blue eyes. There’s an intensity to his gaze that has me so transfixed I nearly trip over my own feet as I make my way back to his table.
Damn it, Vivienne, get your head out of your ass, I scold myself as I approach his table. Tripping over my own feet and spilling Coke all down this guy’s front is just the kind of thing that would get me fired, and I can’t afford to lose this job.
“Can I get you anything else right now?”
“No, I’m good, thanks,” he says, his eyes still boring into me with that intense stare.
Luckily for me we get busy, and aside from bringing him his food and his check I manage to pretty much ignore him for the rest of his meal. Which is why it surprises me when I go to clear the table and find a thirty percent tip.
*Please note that formatting issues in the text box do not directly reflect errors in the e-book or paperback editions.*
**********
Are you Hooked yet? Buy it Now in e-book or Paperback(Available on Amazon or through this website.)
Here are your Amazon Links:
Give Me Reason is also available in India, France, Germany, Japan, Mexico, Brazil and all other Amazon Territories.
Here is your Barnes and Noble Link:
Here is your Kobo Link:
ONCE YOU’VE BOUGHT GIVE ME REASON:
GET YOUR ADDITIONAL 5 ENTRIES INTO THE KINDLE FIRE GIVEAWAY!
The post CHAPTER ONE – Give Me Reason appeared first on Zoey Derrick.
