I'd driven from Florida to Virginia after seeing my sons in record time, leaving out of Jacksonville at 4:30 p.m., taking I-95 all the way to Emporia, and making it to Route 58 heading east at 12 midnight on the dot. The wild thing about it was that it rained the majority of the ride, but I played it cool with the cops and there was hardly any traffic before and after Georgia, with me wheezing through both Carolinas with ease. I however needed to stop once more and would do so in Smithfield, just a little less than an hour from my house in Chesapeake. I turned off into this off-brand station that seemed half way closed, but the prices on the sign were lit and seemed the cheapest, so I pulled up, put the pump into my tank, then went inside.
"Girl, I don't know where the fuck Chris is, but he need to be here. He my damned relief, and I need to snatch up my kids," said the Elease (spelling of her name on the name tag).
The short and beefy, "weavie" thot couldn't have been no more than 25, with her pretty, dark skin and up do, and a shiny gold tooth she was sporting on a canine while speaking "ratchetly" into an oral conversation on her phone. She looked at me as I entered the door and I spoke, only for her to roll her eyes and look the other way as she was chastising her relief to someone else.
"Hey sweetheart, your restroom open," I asked as I needed to take a leak.
"Sweetheart? Sweetheart? Baby, I need to pee."
"Our baffrooms ain't for customers. You can go round back and go behind the protein tank," she told me with a straight face as I seemed to interrupt her conversation.
She stated the restroom wasn't available, but I noticed the door of it cracked open, and she being too chatty to notice she left it open for anyone to enter, so I did what I had to do to relieve myself, then calmly walked out of it after washing my hands, then going back on the floor to buy a snack and something to drink.
"Uhhhhh, sir, did you not understand what I told you, when I said the baffroom was for workers only," she barked out loud, chopping up her syllables with some good, old-fashioned gum chewing. "Now if I woulda called the police, I woulda been wrong, right?"
"Not at all, baby," I told her with a smirk on my face as I scanned the aisles for a snack.
"And I ain't nobody's baby. I'm spoken for," she said before getting back to her conversation.
She let me know right there that if I spit the right words, I could have her bent over at my place, wearing her little fat ass out as punishment for talking crazy. While she was spitting n-bombs and saying f-this, and f-that, I grabbed what I wanted and headed towards the counter, contemplating how much it would take to fill my tank, and perhaps what it took to get her behind closed doors. Shit, I ain't had no pussy in a good while after Tiffany, my ex, moved away to Chicago, and the bitches in Tidewater won't hitting on too much as they all played games when it came to getting dicked down.
"Let me get $40 on pump four," I told her as she rung up my items.
"I mean, you got the only vehicle out there, and so you ain't even gotta give me the pump number," she said, as now the phone was to her ear, and she was laughing with whomever.
"Ring my shit up, Elease," I said with a smirk, trying to pull her in.
She grabbed the items to run past the scanner, and added the gas to my total while talking greasy with jokes and verbal jabs at me.
"Guessing you another Navy, boat boy," she said, referring to the military population that lived in nearby Norfolk.
I handed her a $50 bill, and she raised it to the ceiling to ensure it wasn't counterfeit, then accepted it, putting the amount in her register to make it open as she owed me change, then she closed the drawer.
"You giving me my change," I asked politely.
