Good Enough (Book 1)

Untitled Part 2

Chapter 1

"Don't waste our money going to college, Hillary. Nothing will come of it anyway."

May 4, 2001

Friday night and I'm working. It's all-good though. The Louis and Clark Drug Store I work at in North Hampton, Massachusetts, isn't a particularly busy one. The "Paradise City" barely populates at twenty-eight thousand people. The teenagers I work with want to get out of here just as fast as I do, and since I'm only a couple of years older than them we get along really well.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's goin' on?" I hear, followed by an obnoxious laugh.

"Jesus, Tess. Can you be any louder?" I bark.

"Hurry up and come up to Dawn's when you get out."

I look up from the paperwork I'm filling out. "You're going there now?" I question her.

"Yup!"

"Okay. Hopefully no one screwed up their drawer and I can be there by 9:15 p.m."

Just as I had hoped, my lil' teens were perfect coworkers. They had even drawers and by 9:09 p.m. we bounced. Doors locked and alarm set.

Dawn's Coffee Depot was a little donut and coffee shop that my friends and I hung out at. It didn't matter what time of day, it was just our spot. Have you ever watched "Saved by the Bell"? They had The Max. Beverly Hills 90210 had The Peach Pit. Well, I had Dawn's Coffee Depot.

What we loved about Dawn's was, even if we weren't buying coffee, they still let us hang out in the parking lot, in our vehicles, or sit out on the picnic tables outside. We weren't trouble makers; we just wanted to be simple "adults" if you would. Most of us were 'newby' twenty-one-year olds, some a year or two younger and some a year or two older.

I pull up to the drive-thru speaker at Dawn's and order a Snickerdoodle hot chocolate. No whipped cream, there's enough sugar in there. I pay, park my car, check my makeup, and grab my hot chocolate and cigarettes and head towards Tess.

Tess Boudreaux was hard to miss. Her long, thick, dark hair was always in perfect order. Her soft olive skin matched beautifully with her sweet smile and contagious laugh. I had first met her in my high school English class; she stood out to me because she asked me how to spell "moist." I giggled as the memory resurfaced. We're lucky enough to still be friends after all these years.

"Hillary's here!"

"I told you by 9:15 p.m. right?" I remind her.

I make my rounds saying hello to everyone, but just as I'm about to sit down I hear a loud vehicle door close nearby. I turn my head to see a guy I think I recognize. He's not super tall, but he's not short either. He has a glorious broad chest and short dark hair with sexy day old facial hair. Before I can ask who he is Tess chimes in.

"Hillary, this is my friend Jameson Michaels. I worked with him at Subway last year. Jameson this is Hillary Nowal."

With his hand outreached, he says, "Hi. You look familiar. I think we had a class or two together. Anyway, it's nice to meet you."

"Hi," I say, returning the gesture.

He's cute. I think. A smirk crosses my face.

It was a relaxed Friday night. Everyone was winding down from the week; simple chitchat, plans for the weekend, basic stuff like that. I noticed time was creeping up on 11:00 p.m., but everyone was having a good time hanging out and talking, and I was too. I wanted to stay but I had a curfew. Yes, at twenty-one years old I had a curfew, and a rent payment at my own house that I lived in with my parents. Did I mention I'm twenty-fucking-one years old?