Summary: {*A sweeper is defined as any man that can sweep a woman off of her feet*} Instead, Luke Sawyer nearly shoves me to the ground. Either he's a complete jerk, or love just got a whole lot more violent.

Chapter One

Waitressing at Lou’s Diner was no fiesta in the park.

Especially when you’re stuck working six hours a night, six days a week, getting lousy tips, and dealing with complete morons.

Like the Lumberjerks.

“I did it last week,” Ashley said. “So it’s not my turn.”

Brooke’s steely green eyes settled on me. “And I did it before Ashley,” she said in her bored voice, flat as a plank. They were both looking at me as the three of us stood in a sort of triangle by the back door. My stomach sank as I realized my tragic fate.

“Adelaide, just get it over with.” Ashley put her hands on her hips. “The sooner you do, the sooner they’ll be gone. Just think about it that way.”

I looked over at the booth where the Lumberjerks sat, like massive, flannel-covered boulders. They were two men with dark grizzly beards and big frames that frequented Lou’s Diner, much to our dismay as the unfortunate waitresses. We called them the Lumberjerks because, well, they were jerks. Plus they looked like the stereotypical lumberjack.

Each time they moseyed in, Ashley, Brooke, and I would take turns waitressing them. That way the three of us suffered together, sharing the weight instead of dumping it all on one person to handle. Now, it was my turn to take one for the team.

I sighed and took the notepad out of my pocket, walking with great reluctance to the Lumberjerks’ table.

“May I have your order?” I said in an expressionless voice.

“Shoo, she can have my babies!” the one on the right, Tim, exclaimed to the one on the left, Larry. I only knew their names because they insisted on reminding me every single time I faced them, intent on getting familiar with me. Still, I refused, referring to them as the Lumberjerks.

Their heavy laughter echoed around the room. I waited, impatiently, for it to stop.

Finally, Larry, a bit shorter and hairier than Tim, blinked up at me. “We’ll have two iced teas,” he said. I scribbled this down in two seconds flat and jetted off to retrieve their order, not even bothering to give my usual waitress spiel: “Is there anything else I can get you? All right, your order should be here shortly. Thank you!”

I learned from past experience that the less interaction with them, the better.

I filled up two tall glasses with iced tea and stared down at them curiously. I was always tempted to get secret revenge, but I never actually went through with anything. I’m the kind of person that is content with dreaming about doing such things, and I leave it at that. So instead of spitting in their drinks or sneaking some rat poison in there, I set the glasses on a round tray, balanced it on my left hand, and paced over to the Lumberjerks’ table.

Then, just as I was about to reach the table, it happened.

A tall, dark-haired boy barreled right into me, before I could blink, knocking the cold drinks over. I let out a sharp yelp as they spilled down the front of my pink and white uniform like frigid waterfalls, sending electric shockwaves through my body. In a matter of seconds I was covered in iced tea and goose bumps. The tray clattered to the floor and the glasses shattered at my feet.

“Hey!” I shouted angrily, turning as the boy continued on his way. Without a look or a word, he slithered out of the door.

On any other day I would have let it roll off my back. I wasn’t a confrontational person by any means. But that day happened to be a Bad Day, one of those days that made me convinced the world was out to get me, one bad thing tumbling in after the other. This was just icing on the cake. And after standing by all day like a punching bag, taking hits and not doing anything about it, I snapped.

For whatever reason, as I stood there in the silent diner, with everyone watching me, I lost it. My gaze flickered to the window, where the boy was mounting a motorcycle. I narrowed my eyes, clenched my fists, and whipped around, dashing out of the diner after him. I almost slipped on the now-wet floor, and that would have just made everything worse, but I kept my footing and made it outside.

“Hey you!”

The boy turned to look at me calmly before sliding on his helmet, a blank and uninterested expression on his face.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” My voice was tight and steamed. All I could see now were his eyes… Pale blue. Cold.

He blinked once at me and started his engine, then kicked up his motorcycle and slowly rolled away. I sprinted after his bike and ran beside him to the exit of the parking lot.

“How can you be such a jerk? All I want is an apology. I mean, look at what you did to my uniform.” I jogged along, keeping my eyes directly on him. He looked at me for a second, an eyebrow raised.

“C’mon, can you please give me a second?” I said, already getting out of breath. He stopped at the exit of the parking lot, watching the headlights of cars whiz by. I stood there right beside him, arms folded and lungs pleading for air. I was not a girl built for running-- even short distances.

Finally there was a break in the traffic. Before shoving off and riding into the unknown, the boy took a last glance at me and winked. Then he flew away into the darkness, his motorcycle so loud it ripped the air to shreds.

I would tell you what happens next, but it involves a lot of garbage-kicking, wall-slapping, and a tornado of expletives I’m not too proud of. So, let’s skip my little mad-woman tirade and pick up with what happens when I get back into the diner.

“Sinclaire! Get this mess cleaned up! Don’t just leave it sitting there!”

Yep. That’s me. Adelaide Sinclaire. And that cranky person yelling at me is my boss, Lou.

“I’m on it,” I replied flatly. Ashley and Brooke handed me a mop and a broom. The Lumberjerks were chortling pleasantly like two middle-aged women in a beauty parlor.

“Hey sweet pea, need some help?” Tim asked with mock innocence. I kept my eyes on the broom as it swept up the broken glass, determined not to look up at them. If I did, it could result in a double homicide.

As I steered the shards of glass into a neat little pile and mopped up the iced tea, I concentrated on reminding myself why I put up with this job in the first place.

Of course, I was motivated by money. I was seventeen-years-old and stuck driving my dad’s old station wagon around. In it, I could feel every bump and nick in the road, and hear the old rattle of the engine. It didn’t help that the heater thought it was an air conditioner and the actual air conditioner didn’t even work.

So, I applied for a job here at Lou’s Diner, with the hope that I could save up for my own car. The first person I met here was Ashley White, a young college student with short blonde hair and glasses.

I walked into the diner, hearing the tinkle of the bell above my head. The only people there were an old man reading a newspaper at a booth, a little boy and his tall mother, and a waitress knelt down on the ground with a towel, mopping up a spill.

“Um,” I hesitated, lingering over the waitress. She looked up at me, still wiping away at the floor.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if I could have a job application?”

She balled up the towel in her hands and stood up. “You want to work here?”

“Well…” Suddenly I felt uncomfortable.

“Because let me tell you,” she said, walking around the counter and throwing the towel into the sink, “it’s not as easy as it looks. You have to have a good pair of walking shoes, strong arms, and a convincing smile.”

“Right,” I said.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I just turned seventeen.”

“Oh.” She examined me for a moment. “You look younger.”

“I get that all the time.”

“Hmm.” She walked over to the register and reached underneath, grabbing a paper, then came back to me. “Here. When you’re done filling it out, you can give it to me. I’ll relay it to Lou when he’s sober again.”

I took the paper, a bit confused. “Lou’s… not sober right now?”

She shook her head. “He’s a struggling alcoholic. It’s not unusual for him to drink himself into oblivion and start getting violent. That’s when we’re forced to close down the diner, for everyone’s safety.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to work here anymore.

“Ashley.” A girl with long red hair came up to us, holding an empty tray. “Since Gary’s sick, Ray needs help in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Ashley replied. Before she rushed away, she turned to me. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Adelaide,” I said.

“I’m Ashley, and this is Brooke,” she said. Brooke, the girl with the red hair and the blank face, nodded once at me.

“She might just be our new coworker,” Ashley said to her, excited. Brooke just shrugged.

“Yay.” Then she walked lazily away.

“It’s not you,” Ashley assured me as Brooke banged the door shut. “Brooke is usually unemotional around everyone. It’s just the way she is.”

“I understand.” I scanned over my application, wondering if I should give it back. Ashley was right. Working here would not be easy.

“I hope you get the job,” she said, and I looked up to find her beaming. “It would make things around here so much easier. And of course we’d have the pleasure of getting to know someone new.”

This pulled at my heart. There was no way I could return the application. So, I filled it out, gave it to Ashley, and the next day I was already at work. I soon learned that Ashley had a habit of putting her hands on her hips and sipping at Diet Coke, while Brooke believed the uniform we wore (a pink and white skirt) was incredibly misogynistic. I also discovered, two weeks in, that a pair of men they nicknamed the “Lumberjerks” liked to come here and harass the waitresses.

At nine dollars an hour plus the usually measly tips, I wasn’t doing too bad. In a few more months, I’d finally have enough to afford the dream car I always wanted. Then I could ditch this job and the Lumberjerks for good.

An image of a little white convertible popped into my brain. Then I saw me, driving and waving happily, the wind breezing through my long black hair. Ahh… In a few more months that will be reality…

“Sinclaire!” Lou barked.

I snapped to the present. “Oh! Right! Sorry.”

A few more months… A few more months… I chanted like a sacred mantra in my head, smiling and mopping up the watery mess, and completely forgetting about that jerk on the motorcycle.

But not for long.

Author's Note: So, that's chapter one. Hopefully, if you're reading this, you'll review it! Tell me what you think so far-- about the characters, the scene, everything. Feel free to point out any spelling/grammatical mistakes I may have made. Gotta love constructive criticism. Thanks! ~Hera