Lot Lizards Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the warmth of the restaurant, Jenny could watch without having to feel; in fact, for a moment as she stood there, she forgot that her feet, her head—her whole body—ached, and just watched the flakes, a ware of nothing but her weariness... her miserable, leaden weariness.  
    Shawna loved the snow. She was probably staring out the window at the snow, too, about then, her splotchy grey face close to the pane, arms wrapped around Wendy, her doll, which was missing almost as much hair as Shawna...  
    'Table twelve," the hostess said breathlessly as she whisked by Jenny from behind, and suddenly the snow lost its soothing spell and the clatter and din of the restaurant returned as if someone had turned on a radio at full volume.  
    Table twelve was newly occupied by two large middle-aged men with snow clinging to their dirty hair and boots. Both were truckers; each had a log book on the table before him. She got two menus and went to the table.  
    "Coffee tonight?" she asked.
    "One coffee, one hot chocolate with lotsa whipped cream," one said flatly, opening his menu.
    The other looked up at her and smiled beneath an impossibly bushy mustache the color of nicotine stains and said in a gravelly voice, "Aw, c'mon, honey, smile. It can't be that bad."  
    She stared at him for a moment, stared razors into his eyes just long enough for his smile to shrivel, wanting to grab his plaid flannel shirt and shake him as she screamed, You wanna bet, Mister, you just wanna fuckin ' bet it can't be that bad,you filthy, cocky, ignorant asshole ? But, of course, she didn't. Dina was seated at the counter just a few feet away, watching Jenny carefully as she sipped her coffee, shifting her flat ass on the chair's cheap upholstery.  
    "A coffee and a cocoa," Jenny said, jotting the drinks down on her pad. "I'll be back to take your order in a minute—" Then, just under her breath as she turned: "—you miserable, cocky sons of bitches, you stinking unbathed road rats..." Feeling a little better after the silent tirade, Jenny sighed wearily as she brushed past Kevin...  
    ...who breathed deeply to catch Jenny's perfume and slowed his pace a moment, closing his eyes to shut out everything else as he let her sweet smell embrace him. An instant later, his eyes snapped open and, cheeks hot with embarrassment, he glanced around quickly to make sure no one had seen him.  
    Kevin Bissette probably enjoyed going to work more than anyone else he knew, even looked forward to it on his days off, all because of Jenny. She spoke to him very little, and was sometimes even unfriendly, but there was something about her, something besides her looks and figure—her honey-blond hair and deep blue eyes, high cheekbones and slightly crooked mouth, and her legs...in those black stockings...hips hugged by those petti pants and that brief skirt—there was a sadness about her, a tragic sort of look in her eyes and in the way she moved sometimes that made her look so fragile, so vulnerable and in need of protection.  
    The thoughts he had about Jenny Lake were different than those he had about most other women. The things he found himself wanting to do with her were similar to the things he wanted to do to other women, but with Jenny, he thought it would be...nice. It would be slow and quiet and nice. No one would get hurt. Not like the things he'd wanted to do to that girl in lit class during his senior year, that Melanie Cormick, who had stared at him every day in class with that sneering little smirk on her lips and that narrow look in her eyes. He' d wanted to do to her the things her eyes had promised other guys on campus when she hadn't known Kevin was watching, but he'd wanted to do them hard so she wouldn't enjoy them; he'd wanted to humiliate her and wipe that look off her face. And his aunt Sylvia...her, too. But with her it would be different. She wouldn't be expecting it from him, of course, because he was her nephew. And with Aunt Sylvia it would