Paper Airplanes by Monica Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

closet, I selected one of my favorite sundresses and laid it on the bed. I’d bought it the summer before when my moth er and I had gone shopping in Chicago. It was bright green with white stripes, and it flattered my blond curls and tan complexion. It was preppy enough for a job interview, but it still showed off enough leg to be young and cute. I was meeting with the manager of Dawson’s Grill later in the morning, so I wanted to look right for the job.
    When I’d initially spoken to him on Monday, he’d been skeptical since I didn’t have any work experience at all, let alone waitressing experience. He said I’d be better suited for a hostess position, but I disagreed. Fortunately for me, I grew up in a house with two parents who were lawyers, who loved to argue and who often won arguments, so I’d picked up a few tricks along the way. I could be very persuasive when I wanted to be, and I’d persuaded the manager to let me come in and show him that I wasn’t completely inept. And he’d agreed.
    I had to meet with him at ten before the restaurant opened. Then I needed to stop by the bookstore on campus and buy the books for the classes I was taking that summer – Chemistry and Introduction to Psychology.  I’d go grocery shopping in the afternoon.
    Damn, what a fun-filled day I had planned.
    But I also had at least an hour before I had to leave, so after I was dressed, I settled back onto my bed with my book to read just a little more.
    * * *
    “Cassandra, right?” Rick, the manager at Dawson’s Grill, asked when he approached me.
    I’d already been sitting on a bench in the entrance for close to thirty minutes, trying to look both professional and competent while I was secretly uber-annoyed that he was making me wait.
    I stood up to greet him, sticking out my hand for him to shake. “ Cassie,” I said confidently.
    No one but my father called me Cassandra , and that was only when he was upset with me. I wasn’t a huge fan of the name and had always gone by Cassie or Cass – or Witter, as Will had like to call me. Just thinking of him made a lump form in my throat that I swallowed back. I wasn’t going to cry in front of who I hoped would be my new boss.
    “Right,” Rick said, taking my hand in his damp one. He started to open his mouth to say more but was interrupted almost immediately.
    “Rick!” a shrill female voice shrieked from the kitchen.
    “What?” he yelled back, and I jumped a little at the timber of his voice.
    “Justin cut his hand!”
    “Oh Christ,” Rick mumbled before he turned back to me. “Give me fifteen minutes?”
    “Sure,” I said p olitely as I sank back down, dreading the extended wait.
    The door behind me suddenly opened, and I was surprised to see Hale Foster wearing khaki shorts and the short-sleeved black Dawson’s Grill t-shirt the wait staff all wore. He didn’t see me at first, and then he stopped, cocked his head to the side as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things before a wide smile broke out over his face.
    “ Cassie Witter?”
    “Hey Hale.”
    “Damn, girl, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said, as I stood to give him the obligatory hug I’d give any old friend. It shouldn’t have felt odd, but it did. I hadn’t hugged anyone but my parents in a long time.
    Hale and I had run in the same circles all throughout high school. He was tall and tan with brown hair, broad shoulders and full lips that were sort of attractive. He’d dated my friend Jacqueline for three years. We knew each other well, but we hadn’t really kept in touch post-high school.
    H e squeezed me tight, and I breathed through it, inhaling the faint scent of his aftershave.
    “Wha t are you doing here?” he asked when he pulled back.
    “I’m interviewing for a job,” I said, smiling awkwardly.
    He gave me a funny look. “Really?”
    Hale didn’t come from money, and he’d been working since he’d turned sixteen. I’d never had to work and lived in one of the