Yak
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About this ebook
Leni, a small-town, blue-collar lesbian, despairs of ever finding true love—or even just a Friday night date.
Pickings are slim, but romantic woes aside, she’s happy living in the place she was born and raised.
Then Leni gets a new job as a nightshift cook at The Jester’s Court, a bustling roadside truck stop, where she encounters an enigmatic colleague nicknamed Yak. Finding herself fascinated with the woman, Leni disregards all advice to the contrary and attempts to befriend her fellow chef. Yak proves to be a hard nut to crack, but what’s harder still is deciphering why everyone lives in fear of her.
When events spiral out of control and Leni learns the dangerous truth, she must decide if winning Yak’s heart is worth the price she might have to pay.
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Yak - Lois Cloarec Hart
Yak
by Lois Cloarec Hart
Published by Ylva Publishing, legal entity of Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.
http://www.ylva-publishing.com
Copyright 2013 Lois Cloarec Hart
Smashwords Edition
First Edition: August 2013
Edited by Judy B. Underwood
Cover Design by Amanda Chron
Cover Photo: © Richard Charpentier | Dreamstime.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Yak
About Lois Cloarec Hart
Excerpt from Walking the Labyrinth by Lois Cloarec Hart
Other books from Ylva Publishing
Coming from Ylva Publishing in fall and winter 2013
Yak
by Lois Cloarec Hart
Yak
Lois Cloarec Hart
What d’ya mean Cara’s gone to be a nun?
I stared at my best friend, Yvonne, in disbelief. We made a date for this Friday.
I suspect she’s not going to keep it.
I hate it when she gets sarcastic on me. How you do know for sure she’s gone? Who told you?
Marlon’s Aunt Jean ran into Cara’s mother at Bingo last night, and she told her that Cara had just gone off to some place in Montreal—a school run by nuns or something. Jean told Marlon, and he told me at work this morning.
Yvonne looked awfully smug, but she always did like to be first with the latest news bulletin. Personally, I think that’s why she went into hairdressing. Marlon’s shop is gossip central in this one-horse town.
I don’t believe it. Cara would’ve called me. She wouldn’t just go off and not tell me.
She would if inheriting her daddy’s money was in jeopardy.
Callous, but, I had to admit, probably true. I just know Mrs. Richardson is behind this. She’s hated me from the get-go. She’s been trying to break us up all along.
What ‘breaking-up’? You’ve had all of what...five or six dates? It’s not like you even got past first base.
That hurt. The subject of my unwelcome, unplanned, unbelievably annoying celibacy was a definite sore spot. Besides, Cara was the one who asked me out in the first place, so she must’ve been interested, right? Who knew what might’ve happened with enough time.
Anyway, Leni,
my former best friend went on, don’t you start your new night shift on Friday? How were you planning to have a date with Cara?
I waved that off. I don’t have to be at work until eleven. Lots of time to wine ’er and dine ’er.
If one could stretch that concept to include having a couple of beers I’d smuggled out of my brother’s stash and a late night pit stop at Mickey D’s. I wasn’t exactly flush in the money department these days, and it was putting a severe crimp in my love life. My current lack of wheels didn’t help either, but I planned to use the extra pay I was to get for working nights to fix up my ’93 Corolla. I’d be off those buses in no time, then—ladies of Langston Heights, watch out!
I could see Yvonne was struggling not to laugh. The worst thing about having a best friend who’s known me since I was in diapers is that I can’t put anything past her. Yvonne, who started dating when she was fourteen, was usually pretty considerate about not teasing me. After all, we’d agreed that it was way harder for me than for Von. She’s had boys falling all over her ever since she grew boobs at age eleven, and she was practiced in the art of keeping their interest.
The only time boys were of any interest to me was if they had an extra glove or stick so I could play in their games too. But I was sure getting tired of being alone—romantically speaking. In my house, actually being alone was a statistical impossibility. My parents believed in large and extended families, and at last count there were two parents, one grandmother, a great-aunt, and five siblings living there with me. I was lucky to get to use the bathroom alone.
At the other extreme, Cara was an only child, and if Mrs. Richardson hadn’t been so paranoid about leaving me alone with her daughter, there were any number of places in her father’s nineteen-room Colonial where we could’ve found some privacy. Then it would’ve just been a matter of letting nature take its course...I think. Truthfully, sometimes I suspected Cara hung out with me more to piss off her mother than because of my charms.
But it sounded like it was all moot now. Morose, I tapped a cigarette out of my nearly empty pack and lit up. I didn’t even have to look to know Yvonne was frowning at me.
I thought you told me you were going to quit for sure this time.
I am, honest, Von. I’ve already cut down to under a half pack a day.
I carefully blew the smoke away from Yvonne. We were sitting outside Marlon’s shop on a bench, but fresh air or not, she’d freak on me if the smoke got in her face.
My break’s over. I’ve got to get back to work.
Yvonne stalked off, deliberately stepping in a wide circle around me so she didn’t get in my smoke zone.
It didn’t tick me off. I knew where she was coming from. Her dad had died of lung cancer five years ago when we were seventeen, and she’d been a rabid anti-smoker ever since. If I hadn’t begun smoking a year before her dad kicked it, I’d never have started. As it was, I just hadn’t gotten around to quitting yet. I did try not to indulge when I was around Yvonne, but I think that