Killing Me Softly: A Thriller Romance Novel [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 13

My head was spinning in Donnie Styles' company. He just had that kind of effect on me. The way he spoke and exuded such power and confidence both excited and scared me. Who was this guy with all this money, and why did he act like nothing could touch him or take him down?

"What is it you do again?" I asked Donnie when the waitress returned to the café carrying two paper cups of coffee with black lids on them in her hands.

She had set one down on the counter near the register before she had turned to approach us. Donnie narrowed his eyes at her as she approached and set it on the table before him.

He studied it briefly. "What is this?" He asked dryly up at her.

"It's Delights, sir. The best espresso in town," she said, rubbing her hands together, nervously watching him pick it up and try it.

He licked his lips and set it down after swallowing. "Hmm. Not bad. I see you got one for yourself, too. Good for you."

"Yes." She giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Good," he said, then held out his hand to her.

She eyed his hand and glanced at me. She wasn't sure exactly what he was asking of her. "Sir?" She asked softly.

"My change?"

"Oh, uh, I thought...uh, sorry. One sec." She dug around in her apron, moving some change around and gathering crumpled dollar bills into her hands as he glared at her.

Donnie was scary. Perhaps what Janice told me she had heard Amelia say about him and the jet skis was true. He was ruthless. He seemed meticulous, too. He was a slick guy who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it out of people.

He took the money and counted it, licking his thumbs to ensure he did not miss a single bill. "Got a receipt?" He asked.

"Uh...uh..."

"That's alright. Let's just say they were about ten bucks each. That's twenty. Plus tax," he said, holding his hand out to her again.

She fumbled around in her apron pockets again and presented a handful of change to him. He eyed it for a second, then waved his hand at her. "Ah. You know what? Just keep it. It can be your tip," he said, and she turned around with the same surprised look on her face.

Did he really just give her a hundred dollars and then take it all back when she took it upon herself to go get him some espresso and come back? I sat gaping at him as he sipped his espresso.

"Mm. Not bad," he said after taking a couple more sips. "Don't look at me like that. She got a much bigger tip than you think. She bought herself an espresso with my money. Did she not?"

"You don't know if she did or not," I said and shrugged.

"Oh. She did. Trust me. There's no way a waitress has those kinds of bills in her apron at this time of the morning before the after-church rush hour. The girl got a ten-dollar tip and isn't even our waitress! I swear, some people are so ungrateful," he said and threw up a hand at me when our waitress approached the table.

I glanced back at the girl to see her crying to a coworker at the other end of the restaurant. He had made the poor girl cry! And on a Sunday!

"Y'all ready to order?" Our waitress asked as if she had no clue what had just happened at our table.

Once she took our orders and left, he said out of the blue, "You should come with me to New York sometime."

I wondered what made him say such a thing.

"What's in New York?" I asked.

"Cooler weather. Snow. My condo in Manhattan," he said and laughed. "I sure am missing it right now with this treacherous Texas weather."