Page 13 of Sin Wagon

Derek and I walk hand in hand toward the front desk. The office lady looks up, her glasses perched at the tip of her nose. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, she adjusts her glasses with a sigh, her shoulders tense.

“How can I help you?” she asks, her voice strained as though she’s been repeating the same line all day long.

"I need to schedule my one-hour glucose test," I say.

"Of course. Let me check your chart to see when they want you to come in." She clicks around on her computer, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. "September twelfth," she looks at me.

Dang, that's so close to the wedding.

I make a mental note to ask the doctor if flying pregnant is even possible. Maybe there’s a chance to escape Claudia after all. Although, seeing her face when she sees me pregnant in person will definitely be the highlight of my year—second only to pushing Boba out of my lady garden.

“Yeah, that will work. Do you have anything in the morning?” I ask.

“We do have one appointment left at nine AM.”

“I’ll take it.”

"Okay, you’re all set for September twelfth at nine AM." She hands me a reminder card. Thanking her, I turn to Derek who’s waiting patiently behind me.

We head outside to Derek's car. The heat hits us like a wall; it’s even hotter now than when we arrived, but that’s Vegas for you.

Derek grins. "How about some ice cream?"

I nod eagerly.

Minutes later, I’m eating ice cream and mozzarella sticks as we head toward my house. I dip a stick into mustard and groan with delight as I devour it.

"You’re gross and pregnancy is so weird," Derek comments from the driver’s side, munching on his chicken strips.

"Don’t knock it till you try it," I retort, shoving the last stick into my mouth. Just then, I spot a hiring sign outside a coffee shop.

"Oh, pull over!" I yell.

Derek whips the car into a parking spot, and I hurry inside. The girl behind the counter looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

"How can I help you?" she asks, her tone flat.

"Can I get an application?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I confirm.

She bends down, rummaging under the counter before popping back up with a piece of paper. "Here you go.”

"Thanks!" I take the application, sit at a nearby table, and fill it out quickly. Handing it back to her, I add, "Can I also get two tipsy teas and a Cheshire muffin?"

"That will be twenty-one dollars and fifteen cents," she replies, her voice monotone.

I slide my card and step back, watching as she prepares the drinks. Soon she’s handing them to me.

"Have a great day," she says without any enthusiasm.

"Thanks, you too," I call back, heading out to where Derek is waiting.

I hand him his tea. "What is this?" he asks, eyeing the drink suspiciously.

"It’s a tipsy tea. It has peach and orange syrup, pomegranate tea, and muddled blackberries."