she was lucky, Rider hadn’t searched the trunk for a spare. If she was even luckier, the tire would be magically intact and inflated. She’d be able to drive the rental car away to dispose of Ryan’s body or ditch the car somewhere and walk back to her new life in Hellfire.
A cold sense of dread chilled her in the early evening gloom. How had Ryan ended up in that trunk? He hadn’t fallen in and suffered a heart attack. The man had been fit, active and too young for clogged arteries. Which indicated someone had offed him and shoved him into the trunk.
Guilt tore at Phoebe. She was upset at her fiancé’s demise. But not heartbroken. Sure, she felt awful that he was dead. But her sense of relief that she didn’t have to marry him was just as strong. Still, she hadn’t wished him dead. Just unavailable to marry her. God, was she becoming a cold-hearted bitch like her mother could be? Leaving that world behind had been the best decision she could have made. But with no money, no identification and no prospects of a job, she was navigating uncharted waters and afraid she would be swept under.
She walked two blocks to Main Street, passing by quaint little mom-and-pop stores, finally coming across Bob’s Diner. The undeniable scent of food wafting out of the establishment almost brought Phoebe to her knees. With the last bit of her waning strength, she pushed open the door and entered, her mouthwatering.
“Sit where you like,” a female voice called out.
Phoebe glanced around at the black-and-white checkered floor, shiny red booth seats and chrome bar and managed to stagger to an empty booth in the far right corner. She reached for the laminated menu wedged between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers and stared at the array of potential entrees, her stomach aching with the need for nourishment.
“Honey, what can I getcha?” A middle-aged waitress, dressed in a fifties-style, pink skirt and top, bobby socks, saddle shoes and a ribbon holding her hair back, stopped next to her table. “The meatloaf is fresh out of the oven and one of Bob’s best.”
“Sounds wonderful.” With only twenty-five dollars to last until she landed a job, she had to be sparing with her money, something completely new to her lifestyle. “But I’d rather have the grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of tap water.” She set the menu back where she’d found it and smiled up at the waitress. If she was very careful, she might make the little bit of money last until the end of the week, at which time she’d better have a plan in place to get more, or she’d starve.
“Are you the young woman who moved into Lola’s garage?”
Her cheeks heating, Phoebe nodded.
“Word gets around in small towns.” The waitress grinned, wiped her hand on the white apron covering her pink skirt and held it out. “Judy Johnson.”
Phoebe took the other woman’s hand. “Phoebe Smith. Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Most everyone knows everyone else, and we help each other out. ‘Specially when they’re down and out.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. She’d never had to worry about money, and she’d never had to ask for help. She glanced around the diner. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might be hiring, would you? I need a job.”
“What kind of experience do you have?” Judy asked.
Experience? Hell, she’d never held a job. With a degree in home economics, she wasn’t sure how her coursework would translate to anything there in Hellfire. She shook her head. “I don’t have any experience.”
The waitress frowned and touched her chin. “I’d say apply here, but Bob’s got all the wait staff he needs.” She tilted her head and stared at the far left corner of the building, tapping her chin. Finally, she straightened, her eyes widening. “How about the Ugly Stick Saloon?”
“Ugly Stick Saloon?” What kind of place had a name like that?
“Sure! Audrey
A cold sense of dread chilled her in the early evening gloom. How had Ryan ended up in that trunk? He hadn’t fallen in and suffered a heart attack. The man had been fit, active and too young for clogged arteries. Which indicated someone had offed him and shoved him into the trunk.
Guilt tore at Phoebe. She was upset at her fiancé’s demise. But not heartbroken. Sure, she felt awful that he was dead. But her sense of relief that she didn’t have to marry him was just as strong. Still, she hadn’t wished him dead. Just unavailable to marry her. God, was she becoming a cold-hearted bitch like her mother could be? Leaving that world behind had been the best decision she could have made. But with no money, no identification and no prospects of a job, she was navigating uncharted waters and afraid she would be swept under.
She walked two blocks to Main Street, passing by quaint little mom-and-pop stores, finally coming across Bob’s Diner. The undeniable scent of food wafting out of the establishment almost brought Phoebe to her knees. With the last bit of her waning strength, she pushed open the door and entered, her mouthwatering.
“Sit where you like,” a female voice called out.
Phoebe glanced around at the black-and-white checkered floor, shiny red booth seats and chrome bar and managed to stagger to an empty booth in the far right corner. She reached for the laminated menu wedged between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers and stared at the array of potential entrees, her stomach aching with the need for nourishment.
“Honey, what can I getcha?” A middle-aged waitress, dressed in a fifties-style, pink skirt and top, bobby socks, saddle shoes and a ribbon holding her hair back, stopped next to her table. “The meatloaf is fresh out of the oven and one of Bob’s best.”
“Sounds wonderful.” With only twenty-five dollars to last until she landed a job, she had to be sparing with her money, something completely new to her lifestyle. “But I’d rather have the grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of tap water.” She set the menu back where she’d found it and smiled up at the waitress. If she was very careful, she might make the little bit of money last until the end of the week, at which time she’d better have a plan in place to get more, or she’d starve.
“Are you the young woman who moved into Lola’s garage?”
Her cheeks heating, Phoebe nodded.
“Word gets around in small towns.” The waitress grinned, wiped her hand on the white apron covering her pink skirt and held it out. “Judy Johnson.”
Phoebe took the other woman’s hand. “Phoebe Smith. Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Most everyone knows everyone else, and we help each other out. ‘Specially when they’re down and out.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. She’d never had to worry about money, and she’d never had to ask for help. She glanced around the diner. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might be hiring, would you? I need a job.”
“What kind of experience do you have?” Judy asked.
Experience? Hell, she’d never held a job. With a degree in home economics, she wasn’t sure how her coursework would translate to anything there in Hellfire. She shook her head. “I don’t have any experience.”
The waitress frowned and touched her chin. “I’d say apply here, but Bob’s got all the wait staff he needs.” She tilted her head and stared at the far left corner of the building, tapping her chin. Finally, she straightened, her eyes widening. “How about the Ugly Stick Saloon?”
“Ugly Stick Saloon?” What kind of place had a name like that?
“Sure! Audrey
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