The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jennifer Lynn Barnes
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Thrillers & Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The hours were bad. The tips were worse, and the majority of my
coworkers definitely left something to be desired, but c’est la vie, que sera
sera, insert foreign language cliché of your choice here. It was a summer
job, and that kept Nonna off my back. It also prevented my various aunts,
uncles, and kitchen-sink cousins from feeling like they had to offer me
temporary employment in their restaurant/butcher shop/legal
practice/boutique. Given the size of my father’s very large, very extended
(and very Italian) family, the possibilities were endless, but it was always a
variation on the same theme.
My dad lived half a world away. My mother was missing, presumed
dead. I was everyone’s problem and nobody’s.
Teenager, presumed troubled.
“Order up!”
With practiced ease, I grabbed a plate of pancakes (side of bacon) with
my left hand and a two-handed breakfast burrito (jalapeños on the side)
with my right. If the SATs didn’t go well in the fall, I had a real future
ahead of me in the crappy diner industry.
“Pancakes with a side of bacon. Breakfast burrito, jalapeños on the side.”
I slid the plates onto the table. “Anything else I can get for you gentlemen?”
Before either of them opened their mouths, I knew exactly what these
two were going to say. The guy on the left was going to ask for extra butter.
And the guy on the right? He was going to need another glass of water
before he could even think about those jalapeños.
Ten-to-one odds, he didn’t even like them.
Guys who actually liked jalapeños didn’t order them on the side. Mr.
Breakfast Burrito just didn’t want people to think he was a wuss—only the
word he would have used wasn’t wuss.
Whoa there, Cassie, I told myself sternly. Let’s keep it PG.
As a general rule, I didn’t curse much, but I had a bad habit of picking
up on other people’s quirks. Put me in a room with a bunch of English
people, and I’d walk out with a British accent. It wasn’t intentional—I’d
just spent a lot of time over the years getting inside other people’s heads.
Occupational hazard. Not mine. My mother’s.
“Could I get a few more of these butter packets?” the guy on the left
asked.
I nodded—and waited.
“More water,” the guy on the right grunted. He puffed out his chest and
ogled my boobs.
I forced a smile. “I’ll be right back with that water.” I managed to keep
from adding pervert to the end of that sentence, but only just.
I was still holding out hope that a guy in his late twenties who pretended
to like spicy food and made a point of staring at his teenage waitress’s chest
like he was training for the Ogling Olympics might be equally showy when
it came to leaving tips.
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