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customer joined in. “Maybe she'd class the place up a little bit.” Someone snickered.
    “If you don't like it here, Rogers, you know where you can go.” The owner turned a hooded eye on Cassie. “Twenty-one next month, huh? Have you ever waitressed before?”
    Rather than lie or admit she hadn't, Cassie borrowed from the woman she'd met earlier in the day and sashayed over to a man sitting alone at a table for two.
    “Whatcha gonna have today, honey?” She pulled an imaginary pencil out from behind her ear and held it over a make-believe order pad. If it hadn't been for the noise, everybody in the bar could have heard her heart hammering in her rib cage. The customer's eyes bulged and he stared dumbly at the unexpected bit of attention.
    “Red beans with cornbread is the specialty today,” she drawled on, ignoring the peals of laughter ringing around her. “It's a dollar forty-nine for all you can eat.”
    Cassie propped her hand on her hip and batted her eyelashes, imitating Ruthie as faithfully as she could remember.
    “You're promising a hell of a lot more than my grill can deliver,” the owner grumbled. “Are you as good a waitress as you are an actress?”
    She nodded her head, then held her breath while he drained his glass and made his decision.
    “When can you start?”
    “If you'll tell me where I can find a cheap room within walking distance, I'll clean up and be back in time for the dinner crowd.” Chalk one up for me! she thought
    Her new boss tapped another mug, swung it up, and took several long swallows while Cassie sketched the details of her predicament.
    “Jim Davis is the best mechanic in Dallas. His prices are a little steep, but when he's done that car will hum like a Singer sewing machine fresh off the assembly line.”
    The problem of finding a place for Cassie to stay was easily resolved, because her boss owned the building, and the partially furnished apartment over the restaurant was vacant
    “Might as well get a gander at your new home.” He led her up a dark stairwell and unlocked a door that creaked open into the one-bedroom apartment
    Cassie walked across the dusty apartment and raised a yellowed shade on the window that overlooked a steady stream of traffic in the street below. The bare wooden floors sloped a good fifteen degrees, the furniture was thrift-shop vintage, and the kitchen consisted of a hot plate and a metal teakettle that had surely boiled dry more than once.
    “Beggars can't be choosers.” His remark was right on target, and she was ashamed of her unspoken observations.
    “I really appreciate this, Mr.— ”
    “Call me Allen.” He waved away formalities.
    Cassie made a quick inspection of her employer. He was in his early fifties, she decided. His dark hair was liberally salted with silver, and his face was ten miles of bad road. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something told her that he had a temper that she'd hate to tangle with.
    “I've got to go down and give the cook a swift kick,” Allen announced to his startled employee. “He burned a whole bushel of potatoes last night and smoked the damned place out. It smelled like somebody singed a skunk down there.” He drained the glass he'd carried upstairs with him. “When you're cleaned up, come on down and see if one of those uniforms hanging in the kitchen fits you.”
    Cassie nodded. Allen's glance lingered too long on the outline of her high, firm breasts under the thin material of her shirt, and she took a step backward.
    “I sent one of the guys to the service station to bring your things back, so I'll expect you downstairs in about an hour.” He turned abruptly and walked out of the apartment. Cassie wondered if he might have sensed her apprehension.
    “Don't be silly.” She carried on a confidence-building session with herself while she showered and changed clothes. “Anyway, it's only for a little while.” She wondered how often Ruthie had uttered those same words after she'd