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Indebted:Part 1

By:Sadie Black


Part One

The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire

(A BWWM Romance Serial)

Chapter 1: The Note

Ding, ding, ding, Ding, DING! The orgy of hand slapping on the diner's  bell is like someone rubbing shards of glass and hot sauce into my  brain.

"Order's up Brianna, get in gear!"

She isn't going to take this well. Sure enough, Brianna nonchalantly  strolls over to the window where her plates of double deep fried dollars  and burgers wait for her and picks up the bell, hitting Harvey square  in the chest with it.

"I swear to god, Harvey, if you don't lay off that thing, it's gonna be  so far up your ass it'll ding when you walk," she hisses before picking  up her plates for table 6 and heading over with a huge smile.

"Oooohhh." The peanut gallery of prep cooks and dishwashers egg him on.

"Oh please, that girl is dying for a piece."

"Sure Harv, man, whatever you say."

"Excuse me, miss? I asked for a Coke, and I think you gave me diet." The  man sweating all over his plate complains to me while his hanging  stomach tries to wrestle the table further away from the booth.

"Sure thing, sir. I'll change it for you right now." I try so hard to  smile, but I'm so tired and damned annoyed right now I can't bother.  After being in school all day I came straight to the diner to work  another double shift since our manager can't stop hiring girls that  flake out every Friday night after they collect their first paycheck. I  throw his glass upon the tray of matching empties I just collected from a  table where they left me a $1.14 tip for a $24 meal and make my way  back into the kitchen. The sizzle of the hot grill and the crackle of  the deep fryers make it all but impossible to hear anything back here.


Except that. I'm pretty sure, everyone heard that.

The kitchen staff, of course, start clapping and cheering as shards of glass and water race across the worn floor.


"Kendra, language, please. The customers!" Mr. Taylor cocks his shiny bald head at me.

I try to kill the sarcastic cooks with my death stare, "I'm sorry sir,  it was an accident." I swear, on days like this I can just see my future  dental bills skyrocketing from how hard I've got my teeth jammed  together.

"I know you must be awfully tired, you pulling this double saved my  keister today. Tell ya what, don't even worry about this." He waved his  hand in circles over the shimmering glass splinters. "The busboy will  take care of it, won't ya William? Table 14 needs a pair of hands,  okay?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Taylor." I smirk at William and head into the dining  area. Serves him right for whooping and hollering about a bunch of  broken glass.

Ugh, I still have my research paper to finish when I get home. Time  can't go fast enough to get to the end of this semester. Then I'll  finally finish my masters and get a real career. Waiting tables hasn't  been terrible, but it goes without saying that this isn't my dream job.  Six years of busting my ass working full-time and going to school will  finally pay off, hopefully in the form of an office of my own and a fat  paycheck. I just wish mama could see me graduate.

My heart squeezes tight every time I think of her. It's been just about  five years since she passed, but the gaping hole she left in my life  never managed to get plugged up. I miss her every single day. Mama was  the strongest woman I've ever known, I'm only twenty-six but I know I'll  never meet her match. Until the day she left us, she worked three jobs  so she could make a better life for my three brothers and me. She wanted  to give us everything, but as a single mother her jobs brought in just  enough to keep us fed and clothed.

Every night before she headed out for her night shift she used to kiss  me goodnight and say, "Kendra, baby, you are a gift in this world. Don't  you ever forget that and don't let anyone else forget it either. You're  smart as a whip, honey, and I know you'll get educated and do better  than me. I'm so proud of you."

Sure, I might make more money, but there's no way I'll be more driven or  determined than her. I doubt there's anyone in this world who can even  come close.         



Wiping my face leaves a slick sheen of oil on my hand. Everything in  this place has a slight film of fryer grease coating it, after twelve  hours of slinging fast food, my cheeks are no exception. It's not that  the restaurant is dirty, as far as diners go, I've definitely seen  worse. It's just the nature of the beast to leave your shift smelling  like a fry. No matter how many times I wash my uniform, the faint scent  never fully goes away.

I step up beside table 14 and stop short. Surely this guy has taken a  wrong turn or something. I've never seen anyone come into eat at the  diner in a swank, form-fitting suit and silk tie. He looks like he  stepped off the cover of GQ, like his tan skin has been photo-shopped  into flawless perfection. My gaze is drawn to his rose petal lips. They  look so soft and are a shade of natural pink that I would be overjoyed  to find in any lipstick tube.

He's so gorgeous I can't help but reach in and grab his tie, wrapping it  around my hand and yank him into me. Hovering my fleshy lips over his  for a moment I boldly kiss him, enjoying his soft lips against mine.  Just as soft as I expected. I blink, giving my head a visible shake as I  rattle the fantasy out of my mind. Man, I need some sleep! I'm starting  to hallucinate.

"What can I get you?" My pen hovers over my notepad, ready to jot down  whatever future triple bypass he's looking to order, but he doesn't say a  word.

His intense stare turns my stomach into a million fluttering butterfly  wings, he has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. They're so  unusual, with little flecks of gold and green woven through the aqua,  they remind me of the pictures I've seen of Hawaiian beaches glittering  against the white sands. Really, his whole face is sublime even if it is  too serious for his own good. I can tell he takes great care in his  appearance from his meticulous chestnut hair and his thick, but neatly  trimmed eyebrows. I notice that his left eyebrow has a scar slivered  across it, it adds a little character to his otherwise symmetrical  features.

"Sir? Did you want something to eat?"

His mouth purses for a second, and I watch his eyes drift over my body.  Something about the way he looks at me makes me want to cross my arms  and turn away. Not quite like he's checking me out, but like he's  reading my secrets.

"Well let's see, I don't know about any of this." He nods at the  laminated page of burger photos. "But you sure look good. How does a  girl as pretty as you get stuck working in a place like this?"

Seriously? My fantasy shatters around me like the tray of glasses I dropped on the floor. I hate when guys talk to me like that.

"School doesn't pay for itself, I suppose. Now did you need some more  time with the menu?" Yep, I'm gonna need a really good dentist.

"I can't imagine it'll make much difference." He scrunches his nose.  "How about you just bring me whatever is good here, sweetheart." He  smiles like he expects me to start fanning myself and giggling, instead  of grabbing my pen like it's a weapon that I'm ready to jab in his neck.

"Look, I'm your waitress, not your sweetheart. It's not like it's a hard  decision. It's all burgers and fries, spoiler alert, they're all the  same! Let me know when you're ready to order. I don't have time for  this."

I turn on my heel and bee-line straight into the kitchen. My blood  whooshes in my ears as I stomp past the fryers and out the back door. As  the large metal door clicks shut behind me, I close out the world for a  moment and take some deep breaths. I know I overreacted. That guy  didn't really deserve my tirade, but I'm just so sick of people making  assumptions about me.

Men see a young waitress and assume she's some kind of easy target, like  we're all just dying to go home with whoever tips us the best. In  school, I've had more than one classmate assume that it couldn't have  possibly been the constant studying, research, and hard work that has  gotten me into the masters program. Nope, it must be because I'm filling  some kind of diversity quota. Even as a child, I was dragged down by  people's ignorance. Everyone assumed my father was just another  deadbeat. They saw a black woman raising four young kids and figured he  must have fucked off. The fact that he was killed by a drunk driver in a  car crash would never even enter their minds. Until the day he left  this earth, my dad was a great father. He did everything for us. Even  though he was killed when I was only seven, I had so many great memories  of him.         



"Whoa, Kendra, Mr. Taylor is flipping right now. What happened with that guy?"

I didn't even hear Brianna come out the back door. She already has a  cigarette dangling from her fuchsia lips. She takes a quick look over  her shoulder and then lights it up, taking a long drag.