S.E.C.R.E.T.: An Erotic Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

little grim-faced
     as they made their way to an empty table by the window. I smoothed down my T-shirt
     and steeled myself as I approached the table.
Try not to look at her too long. Try to appear nonchalant, normal. You don’t know
     anything because you never read the notebook
.
    “Hi there. Start with coffee?” I asked, my lips pulled tight across my teeth, my heart
     bashing against my rib cage.
    “Yes, please,” said Pauline, avoiding eye contact with me and looking directly at
     the red-haired woman. “You?”
    “I’ll have green tea. And a couple of menus, please,” she replied, staring back at
     Pauline.
    I felt a rush of shame. They knew something. They knew
I
knew something.
    “O-of course,” I stammered, turning to the table.
    “Wait. I was wondering …”
    My heart leapt to my mouth.
    “Yes?” I said, turning back, hands shoved deep in my front pouch, shoulders up at
     my ears.
    It was Pauline who’d spoken. She was as nervous as I was. Her companion’s face, however,
     was serene, supportive. I sensed a slight nod urging her on. I noticed the redhead
     also wore one of those beautiful gold bracelets, the same brushed pale finish and
     dangling charms.
    “Did I forget something here the other day? A small booklet. About the size of this
     napkin. Burgundy. It has my initials on it, P. D. Did you find it?” Her voice was
     quivering. She looked on the verge of tears.
    My eyes darted from hers to the calm face of her companion.
    “Um. I don’t know, but let me check with Dell,” I said, way too brightly. “I’ll be
     right back.”
    I walked stiffly back to the kitchen, punched the door open and stood with my back
     against the cool tile wall. All the air was gone from my lungs. I looked over at old
     Dell, who was cleaning the big pot that she’d used for the chilispecial. Though she kept her nearly white afro shorn close to her skull, she always
     wore a hairnet and a professional waitressing uniform. I had a lightning bolt of an
     idea.
    “Dell! You have to do me a favor.”
    “I
have
to do no such thing, Cassie,” she said with her slight lisp. “Use your manners.”
    “Okay. Really fast. These customers out there. One of them left something here, a
     small notebook, and I don’t want her to think I read it. Because I did. I mean, not
     all of it. But I
had
to read some of it. How else would I know whose it was, right? But it was like a
     diary, and I might have read too much of it. And it was personal. Very. But I don’t
     want them to know I read
any
of it. Can I say
you
found it? Please?”
    “You want me to lie.”
    “No, no, I’ll do
all
the lying.”
    “God, girl, sometimes I don’t understand young women today with all your dramas and
     stories and such. You can’t just say, ‘
Here, I found this
’?”
    “Not this time, no. I can’t.”
    I stood in front of Dell, hands clasped pleadingly.
    “Fine,” Dell said, waving me away like a fly. “So long as I don’t have to say anything.
     Jesus didn’t raise me to lie.”
    “I could kiss you.”
    “You could
not
,” she said.
    I ran to my locker, plucked the book from the top of a pile of dirty T-shirts and
     made a mental note to do laundry. I was breathless when I got to the table. The faces
     of both women turned towards me at the same time, expectant.
    “So! I asked Dell. She’s the other waitress who works days, too, right over there …”
     At this point, Dell dutifully came out of the kitchen and waved a tired arm our way
     to legitimize my total lie. “It turns out she found this,” I said, triumphantly pulling
     the notebook out of my pouch. “Is this what you—?”
    Before I could finish that sentence, Pauline plucked the book from my fingers and
     deposited it into her purse.
    “That
is
it. And thank you so much,” she said to me, exhaling. Then she turned to the other
     woman. “You know what? I have to go now, Matilda. So sad, but turns out I don’t have
     time for lunch after all