Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Life Is A Highway
Life Is A Highway
Life Is A Highway
Ebook132 pages1 hour

Life Is A Highway

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

It’s 1975 and the recession is waning, but for the small town of Beulah, Illinois, life will never be the same. An industrial accident has claimed the lives of five workers, leaving their wives and children struggling, and the company is fighting to deny their wrongful death payout.


Hi, I'm Janet and you might be wondering why I care. I run a bar, right? But my sister, Thea, is one of those widows. She’s struggling to raise two kids alone. I’m helping, along with my daughter Brandy and my boyfriend, Rick, but she's still in a tough place. And while her attitude is starting to get on my nerves, she’s still my sister. I can’t leave her to face all these troubles alone.


To make matters worse, the manager isn’t done causing trouble. It may just be in everyone's best interest if we make an unscheduled road trip to another state, where we can build a new life. All we want is a fresh start, far from the terrible memories. If we can survive the journey.


NOTE: This romantic suspense novella contains sexy scenes and strong language.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNext Chapter
Release dateAug 24, 2022
Life Is A Highway
Author

Simone Beaudelaire

In the world of the written word, Simone Beaudelaire strives for technical excellence while advancing a worldview in which the sacred and the sensual blend into stories of people whose relationships are founded in faith but are no less passionate for it. Unapologetically explicit, yet undeniably classy, Beaudelaire’s 20+ novels aim to make readers think, cry, pray... and get a little hot and bothered. In real life, the author’s alter-ego teaches composition at a community college in a small western Kansas town, where she lives with her four children, three cats, and husband – fellow author Edwin Stark. As both romance writer and academic, Beaudelaire devotes herself to promoting the rhetorical value of the romance in hopes of overcoming the stigma associated with literature’s biggest female-centered genre.

Read more from Simone Beaudelaire

Related to Life Is A Highway

Related ebooks

Suspense Romance For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Life Is A Highway

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Life Is A Highway - Simone Beaudelaire

    CHAPTER 1

    Western Illinois, 1975

    Heya, Janet. Get me a Schlitz, woudja? Buck requested as he lumbered through the door and plopped to a seat at his favorite table in the corner.

    Coming right up, I agreed. You want a shot with that?

    Nah. He waved a hand downward, his fleshy face settling into disgust. The missus says I need to cut back. Just one beer a night and no liquor. He patted the ponderous belly under his ragged overalls.

    The bar erupted into laughter as bikers, truckers and yokels slapped him on the shoulders. By the time the night was up, he’ll have had tripled his allotment and the missus would be none too pleased.

    I reached into the cooler behind the scarred countertop and retrieved an amber-brown bottle. Yanking off the top with a practiced tug of the bar key, I walked the fifteen steps across the room, dodging between the patrons, and set Buck’s drink in front of him.

    He took a sip. Thank ya, darlin’. Any word on how the trial’s going?

    I shook my head. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Thea since first thing this morning. She was so late getting home that I had to rush right over. No time to chat. I hope she’ll get good news… and soon. She’s not doing well.

    Helluva thing, Buck commiserated after another, longer pull on his beer. Everyone knows Ruxton Fertilizers has a crummy safety record. All these loyal company men gave their heart and soul for the job.

    And their lives, I added wryly. Shitty that their widows have to file a lawsuit to try to get compensation.

    You got that right, babe, Buck said, swigging his beer.

    I normally wouldn’t let a customer call me babe, but Buck is over sixty, nearly three hundred pounds and has no illusions.

    The door banged open again, and I rolled my eyes and beat a hasty retreat, eager to put the bar between myself and my least favorite customer.

    Janet! How the hell are you? Still shacking up with that grease monkey?

    I pursed my lips. Not that it’s your business, Bill, but yes. Rick and I are still dating.

    You should kick his ass out. Elope with me.

    I lifted an eyebrow. Sure, I was gonna dump my man and run off with a kid so young he couldn't even buy liquor, only a beer. So green he was still an apprentice to the mechanic who fixed the fertilizer plant’s trucks. "If Rick hears you’ve been bugging me, he may kick your ass out… all the way out of town. Now, are you gonna stand there shooting the shit, or do you want something to drink?"

    Bill’s face reddened. Michelob, he muttered, slinking to the table while my other customers laughed and hooted.

    Buck clapped a meaty hand onto Bill’s shoulder. I get it, man. If I was twenty years younger, I might make a play for her too, but you won’t get anywhere with that.

    I surveyed my domain: a shitty dive bar in a tumble-down shack at the edge of town. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s kept body and soul together for myself and my daughter for nine years since I stumbled into town, pregnant and alone. Put my last hundred bucks on this crumbling garage and created a beloved if somewhat less than respectable place of business. My customers claimed they came here was because Red’s downtown was a little too fussy for folks with grease under their fingernails. To be fair, they were a bit rugged, but I didn’t care. They helped a stranger in need. Now, they’re family.

    Best family I’ve ever had. To shake off the melancholy, I joked to Buck as I delivered Bill his Michelob, Twenty? Man, you’d have to knock off thirty years minimum.

    He snorted and winked at me.

    What’s wrong with your eye, Buck? Your missus better take you to the ophthalmologist.

    Buck let out a guffaw. You got me there, darlin’.

    I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and dodged to the side before Bill could grab my ass. Hands off, Ponyboy. I slapped his wandering fingers away and ducked back behind the bar.

    Bill began to sulk. Not fair, he muttered.

    What do you mean, not fair? Buck demanded.

    She flirts with you and humiliates me.

    I swished a rag over the counter, not wanting to look like I was listening.

    Buck’s jocular voice turned serious. "Boy, now you listen good. Janet did not humiliate you. You did that to yourself. You know why she kids around with me? Because she knows I’m joking. She trusts me not to push her. If she trusted you to keep your hands to yourself, you might just get to be her friend too. But you know, and I know, and she knows that you do mean it, so she needs to be firm to keep you in your place. Don’t you be muttering about fair. It’s perfectly fair from every angle but yours."

    Bill’s sulk deepened. He grabbed his bottle and slunk out the door.

    Miss Miller?

    I looked up to see Walter Gustavson beckoning me from the corner nearest the bar.

    Want some more of your usual, Walt?

    He nodded, holding up his glass. I could see his ice cubes were still relatively intact, so I grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s and headed toward the softspoken thirty-something man. He looked at me earnestly, his eyes muddy and bloodshot behind huge aviator glasses. His thinning, messy hair stuck out in all directions. His skin looked pale and yellowish. A waft of BO and chemicals washed over me, along with a strange, sickly-sweet smell he’d developed in the last couple of weeks. Poor Walter.

    I carefully poured two fingers and not a drop more into his tumbler.

    Watch out for Bill, he said earnestly. I don’t think he’s too ethical in pursuing what he wants.

    His eyes lingered on the cleavage exposed above my vest for a moment before flicking back to my face. He did that a lot. As expected, his cheeks burned red.

    Thanks for the warning, I told him.

    I’d had it with this night. Too much on my mind for the usual bullshit. I glanced at my watch. Okay, boys. Last call. Anyone want a top off?

    It’s early, Janet, Buck protested. "I haven’t even finished my one beer yet."

    Well, finish it, I sassed. Look, I know it’s a little early, guys, but… it’s been a hell of a week.

    Hell of a year, more like, Walter added gently. Haven’t you been taking care of your sister’s kids during the day and then working half the night?

    As he said it, I swear I felt every day since the fertilizer storage building blew up with my brother-in-law inside it hit me all at once. Every morning up early so Thea could go to the school district office. Keep the books. Make a little money. Every afternoon while she sat in a courtroom waiting to see if the judge would do the right thing. Every evening when I hauled my tired ass to the bar to do my job, so I didn’t short her on the rent for parking my trailer on her property.

    I was supporting a family of three along with my daughter, and I was tired.

    Guess I make a lousy dad, I quipped.

    No one said a word—they’re not mushy like that—but they all swigged their drinks and hustled out the door.

    Ten minutes later, I fastened the padlock and headed around the back of the bar to my sleek blue and white 1971 Silverado.

    Janet?

    Not today, Bill, I called over my shoulder, vaulting into the cab.

    But…

    I shut the door, revved the engine and drove away, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, sure, kid. Nineteen years old and no doubt still a virgin. I’m sure you’ve got a ton to offer. Silly Billy." I’d never call him that to his face, of course. The three beers a week he paid for were just as profitable as anyone else’s. I only wished he’d go easy on the flirting… before Rick kicked his ass.

    In a town as small as Beulah, Illinois—an hour east of St. Louis in the middle of nowhere—it only took a few minutes for me to get home. A small bungalow on a large lot with a big tree shading the house and a silvery-white 1969 Avion travel trailer gleaming softly in the moonlight.

    Despite my exhaustion, the sight of my tidy trailer brought a smile to my lips. Parking my truck in the large gravel circle, I approached the main house, peeking in the side window at a small guest bedroom.

    As I expected, my daughter, Brandy, lay snuggled under a plain white sheet, and if that tuft of yellow hair peeking out was any clue, my nephew, Mikey, had crept into bed with her again.

    An arrangement that had made sense when Mike Senior died—to leave the trailer park where Brandy and I had lived for years and move here so my sister and I could more easily help each other with our kids—had some unexpected drawbacks. They included lack of privacy and

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1