Deep in the Heart by Sharon Sala Page A

sat as one and listened for the next bit of dialogue to continue. But there were no more shouts and screams, just a slender, blond woman dressed in slacks and a tank top who came through the door sobbing and sniffing, oblivious to her gaping audience. She dropped a small duffle bag just inside the entrance and began brushing at the streaks of dust on her clothes as she struggled with hysteria.
    Montgomery wasn’t the only customer who stopped in midchew and stared, although he felt guilty for having done so as the woman looked up and noticed the entire assembly watching her. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and then began talking and pointing out through the window through thick, choking sobs.
    “That sorry road jockey. He’s gone! Just like that! And he said he loved me.” She then buried her face in her hands and cried some more. Her blond curls bobbed as her slender shoulders shook from her sobs.
    Montgomery stared some more and then remembered his mouthful of food and swallowed, chasing the half-chewed bite with a long drink of iced tea.
    “What’s your name, honey?” Marylee asked.
    The woman’s face was covered in tears along with long, black streaks of cheap mascara that ran in jet rivulets down her painted cheeks.
    “Claudia,” she mumbled, and wiped at her face with the handful of paper napkins Marylee thrust in her hands. “Tony is a pig. A dirty, lying pig. He said he loved me. We were going cross-country and when we got home to Las Vegas, we were going to get married.”
    With that bit of shared news, she began sobbing again and buried her face on Marylee’s shoulders. Marylee was slightly shocked that the woman had all but thrust herself into her arms, but couldn’t prevent the spurt of shared grief she felt at the news. She’d been on the receiving end of some male lies in her life, too.
    “There, there,” Marylee said, and patted Claudia roughly on the back. “It’ll be all right. It always is, honey. You just have to pick up and go on like you never knew him. Don’t let the sorry s.o.b. get you down, you hear?”
    Several men in the café looked around nervously, as if half expecting the women in the place to suddenly turn on them and use them for punching bags in place of the missing Tony who’d just left Claudia behind.
    Claudia bobbed her head against Marylee’s neck and sobbed a little more before allowing herself to be pushed away. She turned a tearful face toward Marylee.
    “I need help,” she said.
    Marylee swallowed a groan. She should have known.
    “I’m not asking for charity, you understand,” Claudia said, wiping furiously at her face. “But I wonder if you would have an opening. I’m a good waitress. I’ll only need to work long enough to get the money for a bus ticket home. I’ve got family back in Nevada who’ll take me in until I can get on my feet.”
    Marylee didn’t have an opening. But she had a soft heart. Just thinking about her own past misfortunes made her even more sympathetic toward the abandoned woman.
    “I suppose I could put you on the evening shift,” Marylee said. “It’s only minimum wage, but the tips are good. It shouldn’t take you long to make enough for a ticket out of here.”
    “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Claudia threw her arms around Marylee’s neck, totally ignoring the fact that they were in a public place, and that she’d just unloaded her entire world of troubles for any and everyone to hear.
    Marylee grinned and started to herd her new employee toward the kitchen, when Claudia’s next question stopped her in her tracks. At the time, she began to wonder what she’d gotten herself into.
    “I don’t suppose you know of a cheap place to stay, just until I get my money?”
    Marylee sighed. This was getting out of hand fast.
    Montgomery saw the waitress’s panic. He fidgeted in his seat for a moment, and then as his gaze met Marylee’s nervous look, he heard himself telling her that there was an empty upstairs apartment