Read wild roses by deb caletti online dating

I suddenly see where I'm standing, and that's at the edge of change - really, really big change. It had a thin, shifty crack in it, and you had to be careful how you sat down, or it'd snip you in the ass.

Eighteen-year-old Indigo Skye feels like she has it all - a waitress job she loves, an adorable refrigerator-delivery-guy boyfriend, and a home life that's slightly crazed but rich in love. If you stumbled to the bathroom in the middle of the night and didn't stay alert, you'd get a zesty wake-up pinch. Copyright © 2008 by Deb Caletti The old saying "Money can't buy happiness" proves true for high school senior Indigo Skye after she receives a .5 million tip from a handsome stranger at the suburban Seattle restaurant where she is a part-time waitress.

Trina, she gets pie and coffee, which fits her, because she's as rich as custard and chocolate cream and warm apples with a scoop of vanilla. For retirement, Leroy says, though he's maybe only thirty. Now, he told us, the only place he didn't have artwork was on his bald head, which is a picture you didn't especially want to imagine, thank you. We could get the ice cream in a round container and not in a square one. Severin, Indigo, Bex — my father had this thing for individuality in names, according to Mom, which basically means, If you don't like it, blame him. And then she'd hold a hand to her chest and breathe a sigh of relief. I thought I was going to need a new engine or something. And then, finally, there were the windshield wipers. See, a triple threat existed in Mom; it's still there, really (and will probably be there always, no matter what), some anxiety-denial-distraction combo that expressed itself most clearly as soon as she was behind the wheel of that old yellow car. His own mom runs a day care in their house, so he was lucky if he got hot dogs cut up into little pieces and Cheerios in a baggie. I saw it at the Christmas party." Then, Severin worked after school for Much Moore Industries, which I'm sure you've heard of, but if you haven't, it's this company that sells digital cameras and image transferring. She stares down into her plate when she says it, picks at her salad with her fork as if the solutions are hidden somewhere under the lettuce.

She's about Funny's age, but she's all long, blond hair, lace-up boots, fur down to her knees. People aren't too quick to hire him because of the tattoos. "He's getting on the Vespa," Nick Harrison reports. There he goes." I look out the window to watch too. Severin says hi to Bex, and then his bedroom door shuts. Then, second, there was that pesky little red "engine" light that flickered on the dashboard. We'd be driving along, and her windshield wipers would be going even though it'd stopped raining twenty minutes ago, or maybe even the day before. That's what happens when you're a single mother and work full-time in a psychiatrist's office and are raising three kids and trying to find the time to get the laundry done, she'd say as she sprayed Febreze on some shirt in lieu of actually using the washing machine. "Tell your brother and sister that dinner's ready," Mom says. They'll print your name and photo on any object from greeting cards to wallpaper. I got blessed with the part of Mom that'll reach into her purse for a pen and will pull out a tampon, and I got blessed with the part of Dad that's dissatisfied with social constraints, and that's maybe just a little dissatisfied in general. He'd had other ideas before, but this time he's serious.

After I graduated, though, I wanted to work full-time there while I decided "what to do with my life." See, I loved being a waitress more than anything, but apparently, it's okay to work as a waitress but not to be a waitress. My hands are on his shoulders, which I like to feel because, back then, Trevor delivered refrigerators and washing machines. He's still kissing away when he separates from me suddenly, his brain catching up to the rest of him. My friend Melanie did it for me, and she's good at it too, even though she never messes with her own color. He grabs a hold of the beads of my necklace, pulls me to him. I smell onions, the bitter-sweet tang of them frying in butter. I look at the picture of Bomba that's on our fridge, stuck there with a magnet from a pizza delivery place. He's the kind of guy that also does nice things for no reason, like once he replaced a broken string on my guitar as a surprise. "There are people without homes and food now, let alone refrigerators," she says.

To most people, saying you want to be a waitress is like saying your dream is to be a Walgreens clerk, ringing up spearmint gum and Halloween candy and condoms, which just proves that most people miss the point about most things most of the time. She always says her dad would kill her, but personally, I don't think her dad would even notice. He rubs the beard he's trying to grow against my cheek and we kiss again. We kiss a little more, which is something he can do, and then we walk over to his car and he starts it up. Her long hair is tied back, strands around her face frizzly from steam. She's sitting in a blow-up kiddie pool with her sunglasses on, her boobs all water-balloon saggy in her swimsuit, and she's reading a magazine. "This girl at school — " "Lindsey," Mom interrupts. "Two kitchens to clean, is all I can think," Mom says. "No, they just hire immigrants at less than minimum wage," Mom says.

A handful of Cocoa Puffs, a granola bar, my brother's beef jerky. Things that are too deep for a double-tall-foam-no-foam-lite-mocha-hazelnut-vanilla-skinny-tripleshot-decaf-iced-extra-hot-Americano-espresso type place, where every person can demand and immediately get their combination of perfect in a cardboard cup. After work I go to school (blah, blah, blah, nothing, something, more nothing), and after school, Trevor, my boyfriend, comes to pick me up and take me home, where he'll have dinner with us. So even that wasn't so rebellious." Bomba, my grandmother (who earned her name when I was a baby and couldn't pronounce "Grandma"), lives in Arizona, where she and Bompa moved a while back to make their retirement money "stretch." I like the idea of that, money stretching, the way you take a pinch of gum from your mouth and pull. The fact that girls like Kristin Densley and Heather Green called our house all the time and that he got good grades didn't piss me off, though, because Severin's this really nice person. Then he has the Pope's Hat Coffee Filters, which he actually sketched out on a piece of notebook paper.

A big breakfast makes sense for him — he was a boxer about a thousand years ago, and he still feeds himself as if he's preparing to get in the ring wearing one of those silky superhero capes (why they make tough guys wear silky Halloween costumes is another question altogether). Can you imagine going through life with a name that sounds like you're being chased by Bugs Bunny? She doesn't get that I don't know what I want to study, and that it therefore seems a waste of money.

She's American Indian, about twenty-eight, twenty-nine, with short black spiky hair you get the urge to pat, same as a kid with a crew cut or those hedges in the shapes of animals. I'm not going to be one of those people who spend thousands of dollars getting an art history degree and then end up working in a dentist's office.

Jane, who is my boss and the owner of Carrera's, says it attracts customers, so she likes it when Trina comes in. Jane is a regular jeans and friends don't let friends vote republican T-shirt wearer. I know she went to Italy a long time ago, and that's how she got the idea for Carrera's, but I hardly think it qualifies her as an expert on men's shoes. Now he works at True Value down the street, mixing paint and helping people pick out linoleum. He scratches a heart wrapped in vines, which is inked onto the underside of his wrist. " "If you don't know what it is, I'm guessing you can't do it," Jane says. Maybe it's just the twinge of thrill that comes with a stranger's story, all the possibilities that might be there until you find out he works at a bank and plays golf. That excitement will one day arrive, just like a package from the UPS driver? " After that, Dad left advertising for good, moved to Hawaii, and opened a shop that rents surfboards. He got the parts of our parents that remember to buy stamps and that love books and that plan for the future. Trevor's got this whole product line of gag gifts he wants to sell under the business name Lapsed Catholic Enterprises. College." "Like you're not going to get scholarships," I say.

I know about breakfast, mostly, because breakfast was always my regular shift. When he reaches for change in his pants pocket, he always has one of those metal tools they give out free to pry up the paint lids. She frees a stack of one-dollar bills bound together with a rubber band. Or maybe it's that down deep hope-knowledge that someone or something is bound to arrive to save you from your drab existence, that maybe this is it. I don't know, but I can just feel it — this static, popping energy buzz. Trevor snitches a baby carrot from the counter, and Mom gives him a look, shoves the knife over for him to chop some instead. Bomba, who loves me, claims I dance to my own drummer, and I'm sure she's got this wrong, because it makes me sound like I'm flailing around in the focused psycho-ecstasy you see in groupies in the front row of any concert. Severin's one of those guys who have looks and height and brains and a sense of purpose. " I know that Trevor is someone who asks a question because he's dying to give you his own answer, and I am a good girlfriend, so I say, "What would you do? He's sure other lapsed Catholics would find them just as hilarious as he does, and he doesn't even smoke anything (anymore).

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Until a mysterious man at the restaurant leaves her a 2.5 million-dollar tip, and her life as she knew it is transformed. "We've got the only toilet seat in all of Zygote City that bites," Bex says. "Add it to the list." Microwave oven: out of commission since Bex put a foil-wrapped Ho Ho in there. Vacuum: worked if you only used the hose attachment and didn't mind spending about twelve hours hunched over the carpet like you'd lost a contact lens. "Gold toilet seat," Trevor says, as if it's decided. Freud, our cat, saunters in from the living room, stretches his hind legs behind him. Before long, the pressure is on from friends and family to spend (or not spend) her money a certain way.

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