Apple pie, chocolate cake, a banana split that looked nothing like what the kitchen sent out. “Every dessert served with a smile!” was printed under each photo. On the last page, someone had drawn a stick figure dangling from a noose. “Still waitin’?” the waitress asked as she shoved a pen behind her ear. She wore a blank name tag, and her tight, short-sleeved uniform bravely tried to cover her enormous breasts. As her eyebrow skeptically crept up, I knew what she was thinking: shouldn’t plain girls like you be familiar with the signs of being stood up? Rather than protest that I did quite fine when I put my boobs on display, I said, “I’ll take more water when you get a chance.” Outside the glass window, the sleet was giving way to the kind of heavy snow that made driving treacherous. I was going to kill Rob. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t mind quality time with myself, but something about sitting alone in a diner, picking at a plate of cold french fries and grilled cheese, waiting for Rob because he had again misjudged how long it would take him to drive from our office— “I’m here.”
What do You think about Trapped By A Dangerous Man?
