By the time pink had broken to the east, she had washed away her constant perfume of bacon and stale deep fried onions. The odor had penetrated her pores embedding her with a constant memory of Lloyd’s. In spite of her dislike of the smell of bacon, Yoyo and Travis craved it, so she laid thick slices in a roasting pan and turned on the oven. She stifled a yawn, as she leaned on the latched screen door, stretching her sore calve muscles. Dawn lit the space between her and the camper, and when the light in the camper switched off, she stepped back not waiting to be found staring at Hudson McGee’s gypsy camper. The smell of bacon wafted as she glared across the yard. The cooking bacon would wake Yoyo, and even as feeble as he had become, he’d care for Travis while she slept, but it was Saturday. The boy would sleep late, and he knew better than to wake her on Saturday mornings.
He’s sleeping in! It’ll be fun to run that sucker off!
Lilly backed away from the door letting the Ford fade into the shadows.
She had raked in the cash. $242.42 on this shift. The great tips had been her only motivation to work at Lloyd’s, at first. Now without the Friday and Saturday night tips, she’d be—they’d be sunk. She slipped the stack of one-dollar bills in Travis’s cast-off school pencil bag, and hid it in her laptop carrier’s pocket.
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