I lumbered through the hotel door and mounted the stairs with my things, reflecting on the vicissitudes of my life. A whole week in that rat hole of a town waiting for a spare part. The hotel manager, who was drying glasses behind the bar when I found her, had feigned surprise at the sight of my return and introduced herself as Cassie. She said I could have the same room, handing me the key, which was sitting on the counter as though in anticipation.
Halfway up the stairs, my thoughts returned to that waitress. I was surprised the owner of the roadhouse let her staff wear band T-shirts, even if the one that girl had on was black. It was tight as well, cupping her pert breasts as though she were bent on showing them off. She was too pretty for her own good. Perhaps that’s how she got away
