Page 16 of Fast Lane

Kosi’s right but I can’t tell her that. My body starts to cool down and thankfully the air conditioning kicks on. It should be my saving grace, but suddenly the sweetest floral scent fills the air, which is odd considering we're in a BBQ joint. Then I notice Kosi’s blonde locks moving from the air conditioner that she must be standing in the path of. My body begins to heat again and the glass of water in my hand feels suddenly much heavier. Her hand is still wrapped around mine. Kosi’s small, slender fingers wrap around my roughed skin. Her perfectly pale pink painted nails glisten under the light. My hand drops to the table, sitting the glass on top of the tablecloth. Kosi’s hand falls away. “That’s better. Thank you so much.”

She smiles, “Good. I’ll go check on your sampler. Maybe you’re a little hungry too.”

Once she’s out of sight I try to figure out what that was all about, but I can’t come up with anything. Kosi reappears with a rather large plate on her tray. As she approaches, I take in all of the food. My eyes grow ten times their normal size. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

I shake my head. “That’s a lot of food.”

Kosi laughs. “It is but that’s why it’s called the sampler.” She places the plate in front of me and I have to admit it smells amazing. Everything looks perfectly golden from the frying process, and the handful of sauces for each appetizer look interesting. “Do you want another beer or maybe some sweet tea? The tea is kind of a staple around here.”

Taking a moment to think about it, I finally decide to take a tea. When she returns I ask, “So, what is your favorite thing on this plate?”

Without any hesitation she replies, “Fried pickles.” Kosi smirks at me in a silent dare to try one. I grab one, never breaking eye contact with her. I’m just about to toss it into my mouth when she says, “Don’t forget the ranch dressing.” Two things should be known about me. One, I don’t like anything sour, so pickles are never for me. Two, I despise ranch. And yes, I know that’s an unpopular opinion these days. However, I never back down from a challenge so I dip the fried pickle into the ranch and toss it back. Instantly, the acidic vinegar taste coats my mouth followed by the curdled milk taste of ranch dressing. I chew quickly and swallow. “Do you want the tea now?”

I yank the tea from her hand and take a large gulp, only to be hit with the overwhelming taste of sugar. “What the hell, are you trying to kill me?”

Her head falls back in laughter. “What do you mean?”

“First, that horrible sour pickle dipped into that god awful dressing. Then this… it tastes like a bag of sugar.”

She shrugs her slender shoulders. “That’s the south for you,” with that comment she turns around and walks away. The rest of the night I sit in my seat, drink a few beers and some water. The tea grows on me. I end up ordering a pulled pork BBQ sandwich plate, and after that, dessert. It’s close to closing time when I finally finish with the deep fried ice cream. Eventually, I pay the check, tip Kosi, and head outside to wait.

Fifteen

Kosi

One moment I’m out on the floor attempting to ignore the heat from Roscoe’s stare, and the next I head into the back to check on an order. When I come back out, he’s gone. The brown leather folder with the steer head engraved on it with rope-looking lettering that says “Rowdy’s” is lying on the table. His check paid in full and a tip that is way too much. I scan the area for him but I find him nowhere.

The rest of the night kind of goes by in a blur, and by the time we close up and clean it’s late. A good hour after Roscoe left, I’m one of the last ones out. My feet are screaming, my back and shoulders sore, and I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open. It’s funny how I could spend from sunup to sundown daily in my office going over marketing strategies and feel nothing but energized, but leaving Rowdy’s I feel like I actually got run over by a semi-truck. A stifled yawn escapes me as I make my way to my car.

My eyes dart around the darkened parking lot. I really hate being on the closing shift. Half of the parking lot lights are out so there is just too much darkness to be comfortable. Rowdy’s isn’t located in a bad part of town but I’m not completely sure any part of town is a good part anymore. As I make my way across the lot I hear movement behind me. My hand locks around the pepper spray that Jaxx insisted I carry with me a few months ago. Right now I’m thankful for it. I’m sure I’m being paranoid. It’s probably just a cat or something.

Just to be safe, though, my feet pick up their pace a little faster. The unmistakable sound of a light thud of a boot comes up behind me so I speed up. My heart slams in my chest. I unlock the car then spin around my hand aimed in the direction of where the sound came from. I spray and he ducks… thankfully. “Shit, Kosi! You almost put my eyes out with that stuff.”

I drop my hand, my entire body is shaking. “Well, you shouldn’t be sneaking up on someone in a darkened parking lot. Make yourself known.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Make myself known?” he asks.

My head bobs up and down. “Yeah! Like… I don’t know, speak or something.”

“And that wouldn’t have scared you?” His eyebrows pull together.

I sigh. “Yes, probably, but at least I wouldn’t have wasted perfectly good pepper spray on you.”

Roscoe’s head falls back in laughter. “Is there such a thing as good pepper spray?”

“Shut up! You’re lucky it wasn’t a gun in my hand,” I tell him as I spin around and stomp towards my car. Am I being overly dramatic? Yes, but I have a right to be. He literally nearly killed me from a heart attack. Laughter fills the parking lot and when I spin around Roscoe is bent over, hands on his knees, dying from laughter. I know he’s laughing at me even if I’m not sure for what reason. Irritation fills my blood and my eyes narrow into a glare. “What is so funny?”

He can’t seem to catch his breath so I have to wait for him to calm down. “You… and… a… gun,” he explains in between gasps of air. When he stands up his eyes glisten under the parking lot light that is working, wet from moisture caused by laughing too hard. Roscoe wraps an arm around his ribs and rubs like he caused a cramp by the scene he just put on.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I don’t know what is so funny about that. In this day and age you can never be too safe.” Spinning back around, I head towards my car.

“Kosi, wait, I’m sorry.” His voice actually sounds sincere, so I stop moving but I don’t turn back around to face him. “I won’t disagree with you. I constantly remind Riverlyn to be safe and watch her surroundings.”

Riverlyn. I often forget that Roscoe has a younger sister. She’s a bit of a handful but gorgeous of course. It’s always just been him, Riverlyn, and their dad. Their mother passed away giving birth to Riverlyn. There’s at least ten years between Roscoe and Riverlyn so it isn’t something I think about often when it comes to Roscoe, not that I think about Roscoe a lot either. “Why are you still here, Roscoe?” I ask. My voice sounds as exhausted as I feel. I hate that everyone around me can so easily tell how I’m feeling but I’ve never been a good actress or liar.

“I needed to talk to you but I didn’t want to get you in trouble while you were on shift. There was only so long I could sit in there and wait so I’ve just been hanging out here until you got off.” I look over my shoulder and Roscoe is standing there looking a little bashful with his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans.

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