Sweet Dreams Read online

  Luckily, I had my share of what Brad and I made off the house plus me selling everything I owned in an “everything must go” yard sale before I got the heck out of The Horizon Summit housing development where Brad and I had lived for five years (the five years he was screwing Hayley). We had a huge house with four bedrooms and three and a half baths and a yard that a man named Juan-Carlos, who had seven thousand Mexican men working for him, tended. We had Juan-Carlos because all our friends used Juan-Carlos and we did what all our friends did. I also had a girl named Griselle who cleaned my house because everyone used Griselle and her sister Alicia. This wasn’t my choice, it was Brad’s. He said people like us had cleaning ladies. But I kind of liked cleaning. It was one thing I could do where I could see the results and I used to put on music and not even think about what I was doing, just fade into the music and move around my house and clean. Cleaning my house, weirdly, was the only time I liked to be in it. Then Griselle came and, well, that was that.

  I wasn’t loaded but I had a significant nest egg. Then again, I might want to buy a house in Carnal eventually and would need money to set that up with furniture and the like and the money I had wouldn’t last forever. I couldn’t make it on twenty-three dollars a day plus the terrible hourly rate I got. I was going to have to step things up somehow.

  I walked to Betty and smiled.

  “Thanks, I like your sundress too,” I told her.

  “Momma always put me in a skirt. Said, she had a girl, no girl of hers would wear pants and, as you can see, she had a girl.” She grinned at the spray shooting at her flowers and kept talking. “I can count on one hand the times I been in pants. Don’t know why. What Momma did just took and I never think about puttin’ on pants.” Betty finished sharing a random piece of her life, looked my way then nodded to my top. “You’re good with color. I notice you always pick the right ones. Perfect for you.”

  I looked down at myself.

  I was wearing my last pair of the three pairs of jeans I owned, these slightly more faded and beat up than the others I’d worn the previous two days to Bubba’s. I’d had them awhile and I actually hadn’t worn them for some time because they were getting too tight. They fit now, for some reason, were even a bit loose so I went with them. I also had on a pale pink camisole over which I wore a nearly see-through kelly green blouse. It had a little ruffle around the rounded collar and the cuffs of the short sleeves. It also had tiny ruffles and pin tucks down the front of it and teeny pearl buttons, a lot of them. I paired this with silver stud earrings in the shapes of little daisies, a bunch of silver bangles on my wrist with dangly daisies or roses on them and a pair of kelly green, suede flats with a big flower on the rounded toe.

  “Thanks,” I said to Betty.

  “Uppin’ the class at Bubba’s, you are,” Betty smiled at me.

  I’d told her yesterday when I chatted with her before walking to the bar that I was working at Bubba’s.

  Thinking on it, her comment wasn’t exactly welcome albeit kind.

  Thankfully, Tate had left before I got back from the storeroom on day one and hadn’t been around day two. But Krystal, who had been my bartender both days, hadn’t thawed (not even a little). Having briefly met both Tonia and Jonelle, I noted they were worse than Krystal on the Frosty Front.

  The only people I figured liked me were Jim-Billy, Nadine (another regular who showed around four each day so far) and Dalton who showed at five thirty both days.

  Dalton was very good-looking too, longish, dirty blonde hair that nearly hit his shoulders; lean body but without the bulk and power of Tate’s; just a couple of inches taller than me unlike Tate who had to be four or five inches taller than me and I was five foot nine; and Dalton wore jeans like they were invented solely for him and thus he needed to be consulted by all and sundry for his approval before they could don a pair. Last, Dalton had an easy smile that he flashed a lot and I could tell straight away it was genuine.

  Even with the half and half mix of those who might like Lauren and those who didn’t, I didn’t think me wearing a blouse that cost more than two pairs of Levi’s was going to be jotted in the good column during my job evaluation. Then again, I didn’t have many t-shirts and I figured Krystal’s Harley tanks, being authentic Harley Davidson gear, weren’t exactly cheap.

  “I should probably go to the mall. Get some stuff to fit in with everyone else,” I suggested to Betty.

  She stopped the spray on the hose and yanked it down to the pot in front of room fourteen with me following all while advising, “Hon, you look sweet. Be yourself. Only thing you can be.”

  I filed that away but still figured I should up my t-shirt inventory even though Tonia and Jonelle didn’t wear t-shirts. When I met Tonia, she was wearing a tan piece of soft, triangular suede covering her breasts held in place with nothing but a thin strap around her back and another one wrapped around her neck. Jonelle was in a sparkly, purple tube top. No way was I going to ever be able to wear a backless, suede halter top or a tube top. Never.

  If I wanted to fit in, t-shirts were my only way to go.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said to Betty while she sprayed her barrel. “Gotta go get coffee and breakfast.”

  Betty nodded and looked at me. “You ever wanna come over for breakfast, you just come on over and ring. Ned’s usually still asleep when I open at seven but I always get me a good breakfast in, the whole shebang. Eggs, bacon, toast or pancakes and sausage. Gotta set yourself up for the day right. Even if you ain’t a big eater in the mornin’, we always got a good pot o’ joe on and you’re always welcome to a mug.”

  I had to admit, waiting until ten thirty to get my first hit of caffeine wasn’t working for me. I’d intended to ask Betty or Ned if I could put an electric kettle in my room but hadn’t had the chance. The first night after work I’d been dog tired. I wasn’t run off my feet until the end of the night when it got busy but I was still recovering from my swim. I’d just gone to the hotel room and crashed. Didn’t even get any dinner. The second night after work I’d walked straight to the diner and had a burger, got my second wind and went to the hotel and had a swim. Then I’d crashed.

  “Do you mind if I buy an electric kettle for my room?” I asked. “It might take me awhile to get myself a place and –”

  I stopped talking because she stopped the spray on the hose and turned to me.

  “Sure thing, Lauren, that’s a great idea. And we got one ‘a those little, mini fridges. We ain’t usin’ it. I’ll get Ned to put it in your room. You’re gonna be around awhile you’ll need somewhere to store your milk.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but –”

  She talked over me. “In fact, I’ll get Ned to go out today and get you a kettle. You’re on your feet all day, you don’t need to be runnin’ errands at night.”

  “I really couldn’t –”

  “Maybe we’ll get two or three. Offer ‘em to customers with some of those little packets of instant. Rent ‘em out. Nice little extra.” She tipped her head to the side. “How you take your coffee?”

  “Milk and sugar,” I answered. “But, Betty –”

  “I’ll get Ned to pick some ‘a that up too.”

  “Betty –”

  She waved me quiet. “I like this idea. Kettles. Little mugs. Prolly could rent ‘em out for five dollars a go. Could put that in the brochure. An extra amenity. I’ll get Ned to make a sign for reception.” She wandered to the side of the hotel, preparing to roll the hose where there was a holder. “Thanks, hon. Always lookin’ for ways to improve service.”

  Weirdly, Betty thought her and Ned doing me a favor was me doing her one.

  Yes, you could say I liked Betty.

  “I’ll give you my five dollars when I get back,” I told her.

  “You. Gratis seein’ as you’re a long timer.” She looked up from rolling the hose and grinned big at me. “And you like our pool.”

  I decided to let her kindness go, even though it was generous and co
nsidering there were only two other vehicles in her parking lot (one mini-van, one Harley), she and Ned weren’t exactly rolling in it. Then again, my father always told me if someone offers a kindness, take it. Just be the sort of person who does the same on a regular basis so you can be certain to even things out in your way.

  “Who wouldn’t like your pool?” I teased, “I hear it’s the best in the county.”

  She laughed, shook her head and muttered, “My Ned. He’s a bragger.” She threw me another grin. “Get to work, hon.”

  “See you later, Betty.”

  “Maybe tomorrow for coffee?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her grin got even bigger. “I’d like that.”

  I smiled at her, walked into town and went right to La-La Land. I’d done the bakery and their coffee and donuts the first day. I’d tried La-La Land the second. La-La Land’s coffee was far superior and their banana bread was, if it could be believed, better than any donut I’d ever tasted and therefore definitely by far the best banana bread I’d had in my life.

  I walked in and the man had purple-tinted, round framed glasses on this time. The woman had a tie-dyed kerchief shielding some but not all of her frizzy ash blonde hair.

  “Hey!” the man cried, “You were in here yesterday!”

  He said this like it was a miracle and he was considering calling the Vatican.

  I felt my face go soft as I gave him a small smile and walked to the counter. “Yes.”

  “She had a banana and a skinny butterscotch,” the girl noted and asked me, “You like?”

  “The banana bread was fantastic and you do good coffee,” I told her.

  “I make the bread,” the guy said, “secret’s mayo.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I put a tablespoon of mayo in it.”

  I blinked at him. “You do?”

  “He puts a tablespoon of mayo in everything,” the girl said.

  “Not pie,” the guy amended.

  “Not pie,” the girl repeated.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked.

  “Moist Factor Five Hundred, babeeeeeee,” the guy said on a big, goofy grin and I laughed.

  “Moist Factor Five Hundred?”

  “Yeah, a tablespoon of mayo ups the moist factor by five hundred. You doubt me, make your favorite cake, brownies, whatever, just not pie. A recipe you’ve made for ages. Put in a tablespoon of mayo and wham! You won’t know what hit you. Moist Factor Five Hundred,” he shared.

  “He makes his own mayo too,” the girl added.

  “Make my own everything,” he agreed. “Homemade… only way to go.”

  “Well, considering your banana bread is the best I’ve ever tasted, and I like banana bread so I’ve tried a lot, then you aren’t wrong,” I informed him and his goofy grin nearly split his face. “Though, I won’t be able to try the Mayo Moist Factor Five Hundred because I live at the hotel and don’t have a kitchen but when I get set up, I’ll do it and let you know.”

  Both of them stared at me and then the girl asked, “Why do you live at the hotel?”

  “I just moved here,” I explained. “Just started waitressing at Bubba’s and haven’t really had time to settle in yet.”

  “Come over for dinner,” the guy invited instantly.

  “Sorry?” I asked.

  “Yeah, tonight,” the girl put in. “Shambala makes unbelievable veggie chili and it’s chili night.”

  “Shambala?” I asked and the guy stuck his hand over the counter.

  “I’m Shambala,” I shook his hand, he let mine go and the girl stuck her hand over the counter so I took it and Shambala went on. “This is Sunray Goddess but I call her Sunny.”

  I shook her hand and said, “Well, um… hi Shambala and Sunny. I’m –”

  “Flower Petal,” Sunny cut in and touched her finger to her earlobe and then to her wrist. “All flowery. I like!”

  “And call me Shambles, everyone does,” Shambala said.

  I laughed softly. “All right Shambles.”

  “So… dinner?” Shambles prompted.

  “Well, I’m working and getting used to being on my feet all day so I won’t be in any shape to socialize tonight,” I declined but I did it gently because as I did, their faces fell and because they did, I went on. “But I’m off tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow it is!” Shambles exclaimed.

  “Tomorrow is Middle Eastern night and that’s way better than chili. Shambala makes all his own everything. Even the hummus and pita,” Sunny told me.

  “Sounds great,” I smiled.

  “I’ll write down our address and directions. You can come any time after five. We close at five and go straight on home. But we’ll eat around six thirty,” Sunny said while writing.

  “And now, you give me the go ahead, I’ll rock your world. Don’t order. I’ll give you the best that we got,” Shambala offered.

  “Okay,” I was still smiling, “I’m up for that.”

  “Groovintude!” Shambala shouted with excitement and then jumped toward the espresso machine.

  “This is awesome,” Sunny declared. “We’re new to this burg too. Everyone thought we were nuts, us, opening a coffee place in a Harley town. But we like it. The mountains are close and we can draw down the sun anytime we like. Just close up, bike out and do it wherever the spirit moves us.” She leaned toward me. “But, you know, we haven’t been exactly embraced by the populace.”

  I knew. I definitely knew therefore I nodded.

  “They’ll come,” Shambles muttered with both hope and determination in his two words.

  “You give out free bites of your banana bread for a couple of days, you’ll be beating them back with a stick,” I told him.

  “Hey!” he yelled, his head snapping back to look at me. “Great idea!”

  Sunny turned to Shambles. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

  “Because half the time we’re stoned?” Shambles asked back.

  “Yeah,” Sunny grinned at me, “that sometimes messes with the synapses.”

  I laughed and Shambles mumbled, “Mary Jane Enlightenment comes with a price,” so I laughed even more.

  Two minutes later I had the directions to their house in my purse, Shambles gave me a skinny, vanilla cinnamon latte and a piece of zucchini bread loaded with pecans. I took a bite then a sip. Then I grinned at him.

  “Rock your world?” he asked.

  “Consider me a regular,” I answered while paying.

  “Right on!” Shambles shouted.

  “See you tomorrow morning then,” Sunny said as I headed to the door. “And tomorrow night!” she called.

  “Yeah, definitely. Nice to meet you,” I said in farewell.

  “Heck yeah, nice to meet you too!” Shambles yelled.

  “Later, Flower Petal,” Sunny said.

  “Later,” I replied and walked out eating and sipping, crossing the street and heading the one block to Bubba’s thinking that maybe with Betty and Sunny and Shambles and great bread and coffee and a heated pool outside my front and only door, a door in a hotel that might not be five stars but at least it had personality, Carnal would be all right.

  I was five minutes early for my shift but there was a Harley parked outside the door and it looked familiar. I didn’t think that boded well and I was right when I walked through carrying my cardboard cup and the last bite of bread.

  Tate was standing behind the bar wearing another Henley, this one burgundy, not thermal but long-sleeved and skintight. I noticed instantly that burgundy suited him.

  Dang.

  He turned, eyed me, didn’t smile and greeted in his deep voice, “You got me today, Ace.”

  Great.

  I nodded and headed to the bar asking, “Can I have the key to the office?”

  He reached into his front pocket, pulled out his keys and tossed them on the bar. I shoved the last bite of bread into my mouth, acutely aware that he thought I was fat and I was eating in front of him, and, not looking at him,
I grabbed the keys and headed to the hall.

  “I got kegs to switch, you good with the re-stock?” I heard him ask as I kept moving.

  “Sure,” I replied still not looking at him.

  I went to the office, stowed my purse and went back to the bar. He was working under it at a keg and I tossed his keys as close to him as I cared to get (which wasn’t very close) but I did it loudly so he’d hear them hit the top of the bar. His head came up and his eyes hit me but I turned instantly and surveyed the fridges.

  “Ace, you’ll need the keys to get into the storeroom,” I heard him say.

  Dang. I was so stupid. Desperate to return his keys and not have anything that was his touch my flesh, I’d made a mistake that made me look like an idiot.

  “Right,” I muttered, turned to nab them and went back to what I was doing.

  Silently I went about my task, taking notes, sipping coffee and going back and forth to the storeroom as Tate went about his business. If our paths crossed, I avoided his eyes and gave him as wide a berth as I could manage. After the re-stock I took down the chairs and inspected the tables while searching for forgotten empties. Unusually, half the tables in the bar were clean, the area devoid of empties; the other half of the tables needed a wipe down and I found two bottles of beer and a half full mug.

  When I went behind the bar to deposit the empties and get the spray cleaner and a cloth, Tate spoke.

  “Wendy was on last night. Came in late when Tonia didn’t show.”

  Forced to look at him due to my innate politeness, I did but I didn’t speak. I lifted my brows in question.

  “You haven’t met Wendy?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Waitress, only good one we got,” he told me. “She does her clean up.”

  “Unh-hunh,” I mumbled and walked out from behind the bar wondering if Wendy wore halter tops or tube tops or if she had another way of exposing as much flesh as possible to the mostly male customers. Tonia had long, sleek, black hair, she was tall, slim to the point of skinny, had obviously fake boobs and wore high heels and short-short-cutoffs with her halter top. Jonelle had wild, huge, curly-slash-wavy auburn hair, was average height, rounded like Neeta (just a little slimmer and what I figured was a lot younger) and wore a micro-mini with her tube top. Wendy probably rounded out the line up with blonde hair and looked like a biker brand of supermodel.