I apologize for not blogging my Tuesday Teaser yesterday but I was busy becoming a US citizen! Go America! LOL Anyway, you know 32 Seconds will be released soon and Julie Jones can’t stop harassing me to feed you a few excerpts until the book is out.
Ladies and Gents, enjoy!
As I selected my fuel and gunned the pump into the tank, I noticed, from the corner of my
eye, the clerk staring at me from the window of the minuscule convenience store. The rain had
done nothing to cool the air, and condensation clouded my lenses. I repositioned my shades on
my nose after cleaning the foggy lenses with the fabric of my tank top, and my breath caught in
I didn’t like people staring at me, especially when they thought they knew who I was. Maybe
they had seen me on the latest edition of Entertainment Tonight. I had to be cautious, at least for
the first five hundred miles.
The guy kept staring and I looked away, focusing my undivided attention on the pump. It
finally clicked, indicating the tank was full. I sighed with relief. I wouldn’t have to stick around this middle-of-nowhere gas station for much longer. I locked the car and paced to the convenience store.
The guy staring at me from behind his dirt covered, microscopic pane was much less scary
face to face. I smiled at the young, harmless fellow and handed him my credit card.
“Thank you,” I said, before wandering through the aisles of the tiny store to check if there
might be something else I needed.
I browsed the shelves, collected crackers, chips, pretzels, and water. Stepping back to the
counter, I dropped the contents of my treasure hunt and smiled again at the clerk, like I had just
won an award.
The guy continued to stare at me, looking disenchanted, probably because he worked in a
hellhole; and here I stood before him, with my expensive outfit, awesome hairdo and perfectly
manicured nails. Envious, much?
Steady breathing in place, I gave him a stare full of love and understanding. Yes, I’d also
feel like doodoo if I worked here. Would he smile in return? Nope. As stern as a rock.
“Your card has been declined, Miss,” he said, and I sensed condescension in his tone.
“Declined?” My eyes widened, and my eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “That’s not
possible. Here, take this one.”
I gave him another card from my wallet, one of the fifteen rectangles of plastic I proudly
owned, and waited for him to swipe it through.
He shook his head. “Also declined.” Gosh almighty, what the fly was going on here? I didn’t max out all the limits on the cards.
There must have been some mistake.
“Impossible,” I stated, as he swiped the remaining cards, one by one, until none were left to
burn through the machine.
My level of frustration increased a hundredfold. Palms sweating against the counter, I struggled to contain the agitation rippling under my skin from head to toe, turning me into a hot, bubbling, angry mess. The clerk’s hand subtly slid toward the bottom of his cash drawer, where I suspected he hid a gun; and as he prepared to blow my brains out, because I couldn’t pay for my pretzels and gas, I pulled cash from my wallet and handed it to him.
The kid glared at me like I had lost my mind, then gave me the “why didn’t you give me the
cash earlier, moron” smile, and nodded.
“Have a good day,” he said, and gave me my bag of goodies.