[M] American Dreamers

[Cicada]

American Dreamers

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---

Donnie

There are voices in the water, the shower head whispering the secrets of the Earth. Sometimes if I listen closely enough, I can hear my name. It's a kind voice. Maybe one of the kindest of voices, like it cares for me.

"Donnie," it says. "Donnieeee." I can't ever make out more than that, but I want to. The water turns cold and I turn the knob with a squeak.

When I'm back downstairs in the basement, there's a message waiting for me on the flip phone. I flip it open, one hand holding up my towel. The light from the phone illuminates

SWEETCOFFEE'S 10 o'clock.

I get dressed. My dark blue bomber jacket, my mirrored sunglasses and black jeans - my serious business outfit. I style my hair a little in front of the mirror, but worrying that I'm going to be late, I abandon it about halfway through.

I get to the fridge upstairs and grab a slice of leftover pizza, wrapped in plastic wrap. I kick the door closed with my foot and knock some of the magnets off of it. I don't really have the time to pick them up so - fuck it - I leave em.

"Oh! Where are you off to in such a hurry?" She asks.

I start peeling the slice out of the wrap and take a bite of it. I get a couple of good chews in, smacking my lips. She's sitting in the living room, an issue of Home and Garden perched in her hands. She's looking over reading glasses, head tilted down, to look up at me.

I swallow my bite, "Uh, job interview Ma."

"Well good luck!"

The front door slams behind me and the screen door follows suit. The keys jangle as I swing them out of my pocket. The car door slams, the engine roars to life and while I feel the vibration of car rattle me I peek up at the visor mirror - hot damn I look good.

xXx

The parking lot of SweetCoffee's is rather large. With the country buffet being on the edge of town, you get a view of neighboring fields and the road as it stretches off towards Kentucky. The road has that wet, faraway look. Soon, a horde of motorcycles appear from that wet road, like they were riding right out of the ether.

I can hear them even from here. I'm leaning against my Mustang, trying to look nonchalant. I was five minutes late, but these guys are fifteen so I'll be a hard ass and give em shit. Well maybe, I don't know. I start getting stiff while leaning against the Mustang and I have to shift my pose. Fuck, they're a long ways away.

They circle around my Mustang and I, in an empty section of parking lot - the section furthest away from the buffet entrance. The leader, Haug, steps off his Hog. He's a big guy and he loves to show it. His Club Cut has frayed edges where his jacked, tatted arms pop out. He's got a buzzed haircut, gray on top and black on the sides. He chews tobacco. On his leather padded pants he's got a leg holster with a fucking sawn-off shotgun in it. Their motorcycles hum all around me. I decide that I'll let the fifteen minutes late thing go out of professional respect.

I offer, "Hey there Haug. What's bangin'?"

He chews his tobacco and out of the side of his mouth, "Banging...what?"

"I'm just makin' conversation. Hows things with you? How's the gang?"

"Are you being cute?"

"What? No?"

He spits. Then he says, "We're not some fucking two-bit gang, we're a Club, get that?"

"Y-yeah I get that. It's a figure of speech?"

One of the guys around me slaps me on the head from behind, just enough to scold me. I'm mad at first but then my eyes fall on Haug's shotgun holster and I just look down. Some of the guys on the motorcycles laugh.

"Let's just fucking move this along," Haug says.

I open the trunk to the Mustang. A Duffle Bag, that I know is filled with cash waits inside. Haug picks it up and slings the strap over his chest. One of his cronies toss an identical looking bag into the trunk, a bag I know is filled with a couple bricks of coke. I slam the trunk shut.

"Pleasure doing business. See you on the flip side."

Haug mounts his ride and spits onto the ground, a small brown splat on the asphalt. The gang roars their engines and howl a little. In the same manner they arrived, they headed off and evaporated into the wet stretch of road. I got back in my Mustang.

[.Karma.]

Donnie's car wont start.

---

Juliet walked her tired body along the pavement. She was tired, it was obvious in the way she nearly stumbled in her heels that were far too high to be comfortable. Bright red hair stuck out in different ways and she hadn't bothered to try and tuck the strands back into place. She was done for the night. Well, it was morning. Actually it was rather late in the morning for her. Usually her job - if you could call it that - ended just as the sun was rising, but one of her more affluent customers had stopped her walking down this very road. She had been heading to the same place she was heading now.

Usually she would have told him to fuck right off. That Ginger wasn't always open for business, but he paid well, very well. Which was the only reason she had sucked it up (sorry a bit of trade humor) and got into his mercedes. Did he pay enough for the black eye that now graced her exhausted face, hidden only slighty by her fake red hair?

Yes, as a matter of fact he did.

It was nearing ten in the morning when she clicked her heels on up to SweetCoffee's. There were a few grunts from some bikers she walked past, and the mustang barely turned her head as she saw her destination.

Coffee and a cigarette. It was her saving grace in the mornings. It was her 'me' time before going back to her trashy apartment and passing out and waking up to do it all over again. Juliet often told herself, she had to do this for the money. She had to do it to survive... but what kind of existance was this?

Fuck, smoke, drink coffee, sometimes eat, fuck...

Lather, rinse, repeat...

God she wished the door didn't have to ding when she walked in, but it did, and the crowd was larger than it usually was in here earlier in the morning. The looks she received were expected. I mean, she hadn't changed clothes. It wasn't worth it. Juliet used to go back and change before coming here, but it didn't change the looks she got, so why put forth that effort.

A slight wave to the waitress and a small smile, and she was making her way to the back corner of the smoking section. Her corner, she liked to call it. In that corner it was hard to be seen, and it was probably the most quiet. Plopping down into her seat, she lit up her cigarette and inhaled deeply, awaiting for her coffee that she knew she wouldn't even have to order.

Lather, rinse... repeat.

[Mr.Cynic]

Felicity, Ohio, what a shithole. He’s seen ghettos in Moscow that looked better than this. Fuck, he could find a better cafe in any of Europe’s ghettos that tasted better than this. The American cafe didn’t quite have the taste he was use to, Sweet’s Coffee, should really be named [i]“a lame attempt of the European cafe experience and the American diner hybrid of the 50s with coffee that tasted like fucking sludge”[i].

He was waiting for one of his American contacts and his financial director. Honestly, he wanted to figure out who had made contacts with the American to send the crew off here. Felicity, Ohio. He had to repeat it in his head because it was that irritating to know he was here. He liked movies like Goodfellas., Godfather. The Long Good Friday.

He downed the black sludge they called coffee and glared at the cup. Sitting in the smoking section, he lit himself a dart from his square and stuck it back in his coat. It was through the smoke that he noticed Huey. He was kind of an easy person to recognize.

Huey was the kind of guy who never looked like he came out of the 70s. With thick, thick framed glasses, they were clear and rectangular. He was older than Traci, with a receding hairline. His suit was worn out, an outdated tweed. Huey wasn’t British. He was American. In his mid forties and portly. He really looked like the perfect front for this damned real estate plan.

Traci got up from his seat to greet Huey with a firm handshake. Which deliberately took the man aback. They had met a few times before this. Mostly on phone, but he was sure Huey didn’t buy his confidence. But now Traci affirmed his confidence with a simple handshake, that meant more than anyone onlooking could know. He smiled at Huey Mayfield.

“Mayfield,” Traci said politely, gesturing a seat, “Carson should be here soon.” Using code names outside in the coffeehouse seemed too easy for someone to overhear their conversation. They had to be careful. Traci had worked hard to grab at the straw he had grabbed.

You know what they said. The bigger someone was the harder they would fall. And Traci had no intentions of falling or failing. And either the people were on his side were on his side 100% all the way, no cold feet, no fear of the deep. Or they weren’t.

Carson Fletcher was European like him and he was already heading in as Huey was taking a seat. Carson was in his mid thirties and didn’t look nearly as aged as Huey, but both Huey and Carson were pencil pushers.

They weren’t foot soldiers and sat behind desk. Traci was the face. He was suppose to motivate the workers and he wasn’t technically a foot soldier himself. That didn’t mean he didn’t like the foot soldiers to think that he was their best friend.

Even Carson was a little soft in the middle, but he dressed a lot more modern. His suits still looked like he got them second hand. And he had no taste. He was sporting an olive green suit that gave an impression that Traci didn’t want to point out.

He shook Traci’s hand. They had known each other much longer than Traci knew Huey. Who watched him sit down.

“So, Q, Quincy,” Huey said with a bit of a smirk, to Traci it seemed like Huey had thought he had caught him in something. Traci worry was that he was a cop and this was a setup, but Huey followed it up with, “Seems like an easy way to get caught Mr. Quincy.”

Traci just laughed.

“Just call me unoriginal in that department,” Traci told him..

Carson just looked around the coffee house and then back at Traci.

“It’s all right we all have a shortcoming,” Huey was trying to gain an edge, he was annoyed by that fact, but Traci allow him to think he had an edge in any of this, “So unto business.”

“How’s the coffee?” Carson asked Traci.

“Poor,” Traci responded, and dusted the ash off the ass of the smoke into an ashtray. He inhaled, then exhaled a billowing puff of smoke toward the ceiling. Huey was watching him. He could see even Huey’s inner workings. He was wondering how Traci could be so calm in this moment. He always was calm, unless he had to show might or brutality.

And while he might hate the American taste. At least Felicity, Ohio. He was going to try the make the most of Ohio and make it glamorous. Like South East London chavs.

“I’ll take my chances,” Carson told Traci, “The flight was hell.”

“It’s not that bad,” Huey told Carson, “This is the best place to get coffee in the city.”

Traci looked at Huey with a subtle stare.

“It’s cause your taste buds are dead to the taste,” Traci told him inhaling, then exhaling, “So Mayfield. How’s Felicity, Ohio?”

It was more loaded of a question than anyone outside of the question would know. Was it crowded? That meant he have to compete with other fluctuations of money. Maybe other gangs to establish his footing here.

Also it gave insight to police activity. America might love its crime, with the niggas that glorified gang life in their rap music. But they also loved their laws. They loved patrolling this police state around and pretending it wasn’t already a police state.

“Small, not very active,” Huey told him.

Which meant putting his foot through the door may be easier or harder than he thought. Depended on who was already around. He didn’t like those odds.

“Anyone around?” he asked.

“For real estate,” Huey replied, “No one.”
“But there are others around?”

“Nothing big, small timers,” Huey told him, “No one with big dreams like you.”

“I was taught to dream big,” he told Huey.

Carson just smiled. Carson may have not directly worked with his father before, but Carson’s father had. Traci’s father would have never accepted anything less. Traci had been taught at a young age to think and dream big.

“Right,” Traci responded, “So, what do we need to do?”

“Well,” Huey lifted up his ugly, worn down, tattered, suitcase onto the table. This be one of those moments in the movies they show a briefcase of money. But it never worked that way. The most in the suitcase was pens, organized in color, paperwork, shit he have to read later to understand what he was getting into with this American contact.

Carson looked like he was going to die inside looking at the legality of criminality.

“Terms and agreements, how much of the cut I get, which goes into my stocks, and how much cut you get, which goes into your stocks. What our company is and isn’t. What I expect, what I demand. What I hope to see working with you, what I want from you,” Huey explained.

Traci nodded.

“I have some of that myself,” Traci told him.

“Then it sounds like you know how business works and how this business works,” Huey told him, “Someone taught you well Mr. Quincy.”

Traci smiled. He had no idea.

[Repent!]

Hot showers had to be the greatest american innovation since The Industrial Revolution.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

The relaxing heat from the water, the sensation of the soap falling off the skin, taking yesterday’s troubles with it.

Absolutely divine.

Sadly, even divinity has its limits..much like the heat from his shower. A signal that it was time to actually get the day started. A heavy sigh accompanied the shutting off of the shower nozzles and his grip on the towel.

After drying off from the shower and getting dressed, T.J. began paging through his appointment book. Scratching at his chin, T.J. raised an eyebrow, which soon followed with a wolfish grin.

“I...have a free day? Well, hot shit! I’ma go celebrate! SweetCoffee now, M-80’s and liquor much, much later.” T.J. gave a slight raspy laugh as he grabbed his keys, smokes, and lighter as he headed to his car.

The engine turning and roaring to life was soon accompanied by a CD he had left in the car.

The music started, and T.J. knew….this was gonna be a beautiful, crazy day.

He couldn’t wait. Shifting into gear, T.J. rode off with clouds of dust shooting to the sky behind him.

[The Texan Queen]

“Well, Miss Daisy, it was very nice chatting with you.” The man behind the desk adjusted his tie before standing up, signaling that the interview was over.

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” Daisy said and began to gather her things.

“We’ll call you in about a week to let you know our decision.” He opened the door to his office and gave Daisy one last hand shake before sending her on her way.


That was the third job interview this week that she felt didn’t go the way she had intended it to. She waved goodbye to the friendly receptionist, the position she applied for, and booked it out of the office. As she walked to her car she kept replaying the interview in her head, coming up with better responses to his questions and kicking herself for some of the things she said. By the time she reached her car she felt a lump beginning to form in her throat and the more she fought the urge to cry the stronger it got.

Tossing her purse in the passenger seat she slammed the car door shut and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Damnit, damnit, damnit,” she cried as she smacked the steering wheel. She wanted to call her mother so badly and just let out all her frustrations, but she knew her call would just be ignored. Daisy was tired of being alone and jobless, she was starting to really regret moving away from home. Even though she was just as alone back there she at least had a job. Her savings account was starting to get low, especially after having to repair her car when it broke down. She needed to start making money or she’d be homeless and starving in no time.

“Let’s go get something to eat, take a little power nap, clean yourself up and get ready for the second interview,” Daisy said to herself as she touched up the running mascara under her eyes. Turning the car on she decided to head to the one place where she felt welcome, Sweet Coffee’s.

The door chimed as Daisy walked into the diner, giving the staff a small smile as she seated herself in her favorite waitress’s section. She was little overdressed compared to the others in the restaurant with her dark panty hose, pencil skirt, pink button up and matching heels. She wanted so badly to be in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt or some jeans like the others, just comfortable and relaxed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to relax until I get a job…

“Hey dollface!” A chipper voice followed by the bright smile of her waitress, Linda, greeted her.

“Morning, Linda,” Daisy said and forced a smile back at her.

“Why the long face? How’d the interview go?” Linda asked and sat down across from her in the booth. Linda was the sweetest old lady on the planet, she was always smiling and the way she talked to you made you feel like the best person in the world.

“I don’t want to go too much into detail, because then I’ll just be a crying mess…” Daisy laughed and shook her head, “but let’s just say that I’d rather be at home, braless and drowning myself in a gallon of ice cream.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad! You’re an amazing girl, anyone would be lucky to hire you!” Linda reached across the table and grabbed Daisy’s hands and gave them a squeeze.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. The school’s aren’t hiring anyone, they don’t need any subs either. I’ve applied to at least twenty places and I’ve only had three interviews! All of which were subpar in my opinion…and I just know the one I have later today isn’t going to go well either.”

“Well of course it won’t! Not with that attitude at least! Let me get you some french toast, some bacon and how about a coffee?”

“That sounds great…thank you,” Daisy smiled. Linda went to get up to put the order in, but Daisy grabbed her hand at the last second. “Would mind talking to the owner again? I swear I’d work any hours given to me, I’d never be late, I would always have a good attitude and I’d work really hard. I just need something. Please, Linda,” Daisy was practically begging at this point, she was desperate and hoping Linda could sweet talk him into giving her a job.

“I’ll see what I can do, sweet heart. I’ll be back with some coffee.” Linda gave her hand one last squeeze before slipping off to the kitchen.

Daisy sighed and slumped down in her seat, she couldn’t believe this is where her life had led her to. She was begging to be a waitress at a little diner in a shithole town, if things didn’t turn around soon she was going to lose her mind.

[Cicada]

School in Hillsboro calls Daisy in for a rushed, last minute interview. Job is filled before she gets there.

---

Donnie

Spinning around and around, like it's chasing after itself. A small puff of smoke swirls into the air, then dissipates like it was never there. My whole body is vibrating, softly, like it's humming along to the some kind of heat of the universe. Man, that sounds cool. I turn the key and the engine tries to turnover again and fails, a small black puff spits out of the exhaust.

"Fuck."

I slam the door of the Mustang and lean against it. My flip phone's out of juice when I check it, and I suppose this is when options needed to be weighed. Luckily I'm in the SweetCoffee's parking lot, so it's nothing to charge up with a Cup o' Joe 'till I can make a call for a tow. Maybe I'll get a slice of pie or some shit too.

I start walking for the front door to SweetCoffee's and I stop a few feet away. Thoughts race around and around, chasing after each other in my head and I turn back to look at the ol' Mustang. I chew on the inside of my mouth for a beat or two. Even from here the car looks beautiful in all of it's aging splendor. I can imagine Steve McQueen gripping the steering wheel, sweat on his face, giving the baddies the slip down the San Francisco hills. If he saw her now he might think it hadn't aged a day, I took such good care of it. It sure was far away. Would Steve McQueen have been macho enough to abandon his car on the outskirts of a parking lot without blinking? Probably so.

I'm clutching the steering wheel and listening to the rubber roll on the asphalt. Luckily there aren't many cars parked in the lot so I can just push it on straight. I hear the metal whine as I push it, grunting. The parking spaces don't quite match up so I have to struggle frantically to turn the wheel to the left, then back to the right just to fit it perfectly into a space closer to SweetCoffee's. I grab the clutch and pull it out of Neutral and back into Park. I firmly push the door shut, careful not to slam it.

Outside of the door to SweetCoffee's I'm stroking my chin, feeling the itch of my stubble. Who the fuck wears a leg holster? Where do you buy that? Haug must watch too many movies to pull that kind of Dawn of the Dead shit. I think there's leg holsters in Dawn of the Dead. Does he match the leather with his hundred other pair of leather pants? I mean, seriously, what kind of pencil-dick overcompensating wad do you have to be to wave a sawed-off around in people's face? I notice I'm chewing on the inside of my cheek again. The fucking losers I work with.

I pull the Duffle Bag out of the trunk and sling it over my shoulder, holding it close. I'm not really thinking and I slam the trunk closed and instantly regret it. I open the trunk real fast just to make sure the latch is ok. It is. Good.

I look up at SweetCoffee's and suddenly the namesake of the house doesn't sound that great anymore. I turn and look out at the small sprawl of Felicity. I can see the sign from here, and even though it's like a fifteen minute walk - I figure it's a better place to spend time charging my phone.

xXx

El Dorado didn't have golden roads leading to the heart of it's kingdom - they were more of a rotted beige color now. The carpet had a stain in the corner of the entrance hallway. It was probably booze, or vomit or...well...hopefully just vomit.

If you've never seen the day shift at a strip club, it's hard to unsee it once you have. The quality of tits and ass on stage is just about on-par with the fat man-tits and fat-asses sitting down to watch them. The bouncer in the corner of the room looked like he was asleep behind his sunglasses, teetering in place like a flamingo, keeping the illusion alive. Spectators could probably get away with being frisky with the girls, but who would want to?

I plug my phone into an outlet at the bar, where nobody ever sits, and order a beer. The greasy looking guy behind the bar slaps a warm bottle on the counter and slaps a receipt down next to it. It costs six bucks. The bottle's already open.

The lady at the pole walks offstage and I hear unenthusiastic clapping from like two people. Turns out one of them is actually just masturbating and the bouncer must be too invested in the visions of sugarplums dancing in his head to care.

"Give it up for Brandy everybody," says an unenthusiastic announcer leaking in softly through an overhead speaker. "And now, get your [cough] dollar bills ready for Macky!"

When she came out onstage, eyes sunken and hair a mess of wires, I couldn't believe who I was looking at. I knew Macky from back in High School. She always had a stacked rack, a great ass and a pair of lips that always made you lick your own. I could see she still had great tits. I moved up to the front row, took a seat and didn't like the squish it made, so I got up and sat in a different one.

"Well well. Long time no see, Macky."

She squinted over, the bright solitary spotlight in her eyes. She slithered on down the pole and crawled over to get a better look at whoever might be giving her a tip. When she saw me, she stopped crawling but kept dancing in place.

"Hey...Ronnie."

"It's Donnie."

"Yeah ok. Long time no see indeed."

"Wow you look...I just saw your brother, coincidentally."

Her eyebrows perked up. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well shit, you don't seem like one of his friends."

"I'm in business with him actually."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Cool," she said. She kept dancing and kept the same almost emotionless face while she concentrated to dancing to the music. She fiddled with a bra clasp.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"No, but nobody will do anything if you do." She nodded in Sleepy Head's direction.

He was still snoozing behind his sunglasses, and I think I could hear him starting to snore. I pulled a cigarette from my jacket and lit it with my plastic lighter. Macky's bra came off and I almost coughed when I took a drag from my cigarette. She kept dancing and I exhaled a cloud of smoke that swirled up into the air and disappeared into nothing.

[Repent!]

El Dorado was anonymously reported to authorities a couple days prior for allegedly employing underage performers. Donnie’s duffle bag gets lost in the confusion when the law arrives.

---

Once T.J. was on more civilized roads, his had to tell himself to behave and bring the speed down acceptable limits. After arriving in the town proper, he pulled up to SweetCoffee’s and hopped out of the vehicle while happily shutting the door behind him. After taking a deep inhale of the daytime air, T.J. sauntered inside. He made a quick survey of the areas he walked in and a couple faces stuck out for him.

First was the red head in the back. He had never formally met her, but she looked familiar enough from his time in Cincinnati...he just couldn’t quite place it.

The blonde was pleading with Linda, a woman whose warm heart could speed up global warming by a couple decades if you let her. The girl was obviously on rough times from the pieces he could hear, but he wasn’t going to pry.

T.J. sat down at a stool looking at the breakfast bar, as he caught the eye of Linda. The waitress walked up to him and already set the coffee down and was pouring before she spoke. “You finally have a day off, T.J.? Haven’t seen you ‘round here for ‘bout two weeks now.”

“I know, isn’t it exciting?” Joseph always took his coffee black, and he treated it like a precious commodity. “All this warehouse work and travel is fun, but a man just wants to sit at home and relax with some coffee and a smile, you know?” T.J. and Linda shared a smile before the look of an idea popped into the waitresses head..

“You know…” Linda placed the pot back on the setting and crossed her arms before resting them on the table, her voice low. “...maybe if you had an extra hand to help you, you could have more days off.” Before nudging her head at the girl with a smile. “I don’t want her to be forced into serving coffee, she’s too pretty for that.” T.J. pondered the option and shrugged. “Fuck it, gimmie a pen.”

[.Karma.]

---

---

All The Lonely People

---

---

Halfway through her coffee and everything around Juliet still seemed to be happening in a blur. People came in, the door would ding. Linda would serve them, people would leave. There were business transactions happening, people down on their luck. Happy people, sad people. All kinds of people. Yet somehow Juliet managed to feel utterly alone.

Even the sweet waitress, although cordial to her, didn't want much association with the likes of Ginger. Although no one liked to speak to her, every whisper felt as if it was directed at her. Every glance in her direction was judging her, every laugh mocking. It was all spinning around her in one giant blur like the smoke that slowly spun around her head from the third cigarette since entering the establishment.

Around and around they swirled until it was all just a jumble of noise that somehow felt like condemnation regardless of not being able to pick out any specific words or phrases.

That was until a weasely voice slid into her subconscious and she let out a very audible sigh.

"Gingy, are you ignorin' me?"

"I was trying to. What do you want, Tony?" Her eyes looked at him with a boredom that had undertones of being rather dead inside as she spoke, puffs of smoke leaving her mouth and fogging the space between them, which was growing smaller as she acknowledged him. A hand touching her leg.

She could feel the grime on his hands as it slid up her thigh, and the smell of his breath was almost nauseating, only amplified by the equally disgusting smell that was emanating from his body. It took all she had not to vomit, but the gag reflex was something she had mastered long ago. Part of the job.

A scuzzy smile crossed his cracked lips, only to show teeth that had been destroyed by meth. Oddly enough methheads were skinny, but Tony defied that stereotype even as his rolls pushed the table a bit away from her, causing a bit of coffee to slosh over the edge of her cup as he leaned down to her ear.

One would think that his voice would have been soft considering he had taken the effort to lean to her ear, but the volume of his voice did not change, just the tone which turned rather gutteral which just stacked on top of her original disgust. Although it wasn't as if she hadn't stooped to this low before.

That guttural voice radiated in her head as he spoke "Wan some'in else to suck on other than the butt of that cigarette. Ya know... A little sucky fucky... Slurping the gherkin...?" He laughed at his own joke rather loudly, spittle flying past his lips, pulling a ten out of his pocket slightly to show her.

A ten? Really? Juliet was honestly appalled. It was something that she couldn't even fathom even from the likes of Tony.

"Fuck OFF, Tony!" She said rather loudly, taking his hand and throwing it off of her leg and trying to shove him away from her. It wasn't enough that he was impeding on her me time, but somehow thought ten dollars was enough for her to stop drinking her coffee and put out her cigarettes simply for the pleasure of sucking his dick? She nearly vomited in her mouth. Juliet didn't have many standards, but there were still some.

A look of anger flashed in front of his eyes as he looked over her and then the people nearby that were now staring at them. "Bitch! My money sudd'ly ain't good enough for you no more? You ain't even worth the tip, and the tip is all you can ever handle! You's just as fucked as your mother."

As much as Juliet hated to admit it, it cut her. Even the hateful words of a revolting meth addict were able to peel back the scabs of wounds she liked to hide. This was the one place where she liked to try and be just another face in the crowd, and Tony had made them a spectacle.

Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat and lit up yet another smoke as she tried to steady her beating heart and to not show the pure humiliation that she felt by pushing back the tears that were threatening to bubble up and push their way past the barrier of her eyelids.

"Leave me. The fuck. Alone."

[The Texan Queen]

Linda returned and filled up a big cup with some freshly brewed coffee and gave Daisy a pat on the back before rushing off to tend to the other customers. Daisy stared at the coffee for a few minutes before sitting up and pouring in some vanilla flavored creamer so she could actually drink the coffee. She sat there stirring her coffee, dazing off into a daydream. She often found herself thinking of what life would have been like if she would’ve stayed, if she would’ve been able to keep the secret better, if she kept it, if she didn’t date that guy…so many thoughts always crossed her mind about her life she left behind and what could have been. Shaking those thoughts from her head she lifted the spoon out of the caramel colored liquid and took a big drink.

“Fuck,” she gasped and quickly set her mug down. The coffee was still a little too hot, her mouth was throbbing from pain she could feel her tongue turning to sand paper from the burn. “Should’ve waited longer before taking a drink,” she said to herself and pushed the coffee away slightly. This day was just going great with the shit interviews and now she wouldn’t be able to actually taste her food for a week thanks to the lava she just drank. Daisy was really starting to slump down into her feelings again, she couldn’t catch a break and she was really feeling isolated out here, all those things were mixing together for the perfect depression cocktail.

“I’ve got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine…”

Her obnoxious ringtone snapped her back to reality and she scrambled to reach for her phone in the bottom of her bag.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Parks?”

“Yes it is!”

“My name is Kathleen Jones, I’m with the Hillsboro school district and I’m calling you about the resume you left with us.” At this point some people in the back of the diner were starting to get loud with their disagreement, Daisy frowned and gathered her things so she could take this conversation outside.

“I was wondering if you’d be able to come in now for an interview, I know it’s last minute and I understand-”

“Now works perfect! I’m on my way!” Daisy reassured her as she forced herself to not physically jump for joy at this chance. She finished up the conversation before rushing back inside the diner.

“Linda!” Daisy shouted and ran up to the breakfast bar besides the man with dreads she was talking to, making sure to keep a safe distance. “I just got a phone call from Hillsboro! I have a last minute interview. Hold my order until I come back and hopefully it will be a celebratory interview!”

“Oh honey, that’s great! Get out of here and kick ass at that interview!” Linda smiled and reached over the counter to give Daisy a hug.

————

Daisy took a moment to compose herself and bring down her excitement before opening up the door to the school district office.

“Hi!” Daisy smiled brightly at the receptionist as she approached the desk. “I’m Daisy Parks, I was called for a last minute interview but a Kathleen Jones.”

“Oh, yes, just one minute. You can take a seat while you wait,” The pretty brunette smiled back and scurried off to find Kathleen. Daisy nodded and turned to find a seat, happy to see that all the chairs were empty and hoped that meant she was first to the call. She pulled out her resume and went over some typically questions, reread her resume and said some prayers to mentally prep herself for the interview.

Suddenly the receptionist reappeared and so did two other ladies. From the conversation the two women were having Daisy put together that one of then was Kathleen and the other was someone she interviewed for the job. Daisy forced a smile at them as they exchanged their goodbyes and tried to remain positive, but she had it figured out that most likely the job was taken.

“Daisy?” The women with black curly hair, who she assumed was Kathleen, asked and waved at her.

“Yes ma’am!” Daisy smiled and stood from her chair.

“I’m Kathleen, nice to meet you.” The two shook hands and Kathleen lead her back to her office.

“Please, take a seat,” Kathleen said as she squeezed behind her desk that was too big for the office space she had. Daisy sat down in a stiff wooden chair and instantly regretted wearing such thick clothing, it was so humid in her office.

“I’m going to make this short,” She stated and folded her arms in front of her chest, “We just filled the position. I feel bad that you came out here for nothing, she just got here first.”

“Oh.” Daisy was shocked. Why would they call multiple people only to give the job to whoever showed up first? That’s not how interviewing people went, if that was the case Daisy would’ve had a job by now.

“But, we can keep your resume on file and give you a call when something comes up. I’ll be sure to call you first next time and I’ll call you first for any subbing jobs.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m going to see myself out. You have a great day, I’m glad you found someone so quickly.” Daisy smiled, shook the woman’s hand and then quickly left the office. She kept her composure through the office, out the door, all the way to the parking lot and even a few blocks once she started driving home. Eventually she couldn’t hold it in anymore so she jerked the car to the side of the road and just let it all out.

She screamed, she cursed, she cried. She flung the car door open, grabbed her resume and threw herself out of the car. She walked over to the open field next to the side of the road and began ripping the resume and throwing the chunks of paper, cursing each and every piece.

About 30 minutes later she found herself parking her car outside the diner again. She just walked in without saying anything, just gave Linda a look and took her seat back at the booth. Linda dashed to the kitchen to get her food, she could tell by the mascara stains on the girls face that the interview didn’t go well.

“Just don’t say anything…please,” Daisy groaned when Linda approached the booth with her food. Linda gently set the food down along with a new cup of coffee and quietly walked away to leave the girl in her emotions.

[Repent!]

A phone number is obviously left under Daisy’s check when it gets dropped off with the words “Call for interview later this evening, ask for Joseph. Thank me later. ~Linda <3”

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T.J. finished writing down his work number on a slip of receipt paper and passed it back to Linda. “Thank you Joseph, you are a bastion of generosity.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just know it’s only because I trust you, Linda.” They smiled at each other before she walked away to tend to other customers and T.J. went back to his coffee..

Seemingly on cue of course, the boring quiet restaurant seemed to catch a spark of the bigger cities. The girl that Linda pointed out seemed to now be in a rush for an interview. T.J. couldn’t help but smirk at the little beam of sunshine that rushed off after relaying the news.

The good vibes quickly turned sour though as the woman tucked in the back corner was opposite a very sloppy, obtuse excuse for a human being. T.J. popped a cigarette out of the pack he brought with him and lit it, shaking his head. He was trying to be nice with his day off, but the morning was pushing his limits already. “Hey, Tony the septic cinnamon roll! Let the lady be, huh? You can’t see she wanted to be by herself this morning?!”