Chapter 8: The Job Hunt
436 words
The diner smelled of stale grease and bleach using to mask it. Sarah smoothed the front of her maternity blouse, conscious of the fraying hem. It was the only presentable thing she owned that still fit over her swelling bump.
Rick, the manager, scratched his stubble. He looked at her resume, then at her.
"Art teacher, huh? You're overqualified for scrubbing tables, lady."
"I'm hard-working," Sarah said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She needed this. The fifty dollars from the pawnbroker for the gold band was gone, spent on a motel room that had roaches in the sink. "I can take the double shifts nobody wants."
Rick sighed, eyeing her belly. "Liability risk. But... my Tuesday girl quit. You can start trial. Minimum wage, keep your tips."
Oxygen rushed back into Sarah’s lungs. A job meant food. It meant prenatal vitamins.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You won't regret it."
The landline behind the counter rang. It was a shrill, mechanical scream that cut through the clatter of silverware.
"Grab an apron from the back," Rick said, reaching for the phone. "Sal's Diner."
Sarah took two steps toward the kitchen when the atmosphere in the room froze. She turned back.
Rick’s face had drained of all color. He was gripping the receiver so hard his knuckles were skeletal white. He wasn't looking at the phone; he was staring at Sarah with wide, terrified eyes.
"Yes," Rick stammered into the mouthpiece. "I... I didn't know. understood. Immediately. Please, don't calling the health inspector, I—"
He slammed the phone onto the cradle as if it were burning him.
"Get out," Rick hissed.
Sarah froze. "What? You just hired me."
"I said get out!" Rick shouted, his fear turning into aggression. He rounded the counter, grabbing her upper arm. His fingers dug into her bicep, bruising the soft flesh.
"Please, I need this!" Sarah pleaded, her shoes skidding on the linoleum as he shoved her toward the door. The few patrons eating lunch stared in silence.
"They said they'd shut me down," Rick spat, panic spraying with his words. "They knew my name. They knew my kids' names. Who the hell are you?"
He threw the door open and pushed her onto the sidewalk. Sarah stumbled, barely catching herself on a parking meter before she fell onto her stomach.
"Don't come back," Rick yelled, slamming the glass door. He flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED and locked the deadbolt, his hands shaking violently.
Sarah stood alone on the hot pavement. Her skin crawled. Julian wasn't just divorcing her. He was hunting her.
End of Chapter 8
