Jackpot
By Mairsile
Jackpot
© 2018 by Mairsile. All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form, without written permission.
Editor: Tracy Seybold
Cover Design: Mairsile
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Dedication
Again and again and again, I couldn’t write without the wonderful support of my family and friends. Joyce, Fox, thank you! Love you!
And as always, may the glory go to God.
Chapter One
A gust of wind pushed through the bay doors, picking up a discarded piece of newspaper, tumbling and fluttering it straight for Makenna ‘Kenny’ Whitt. At just the exact moment when she lowered her mask to drink some water, the soiled newspaper flew into her face. “Damn it!” She yanked the paper off and pulled her mask back up.
The stench was particularly foul that afternoon. Almost as foul as her mood. It was only June, but the hundred-degree heat and ninety-percent humidity inside the building were causing her to sweat in some very uncomfortable places. Worse yet, was the flying debris that stuck to the sweat on her face and arms. Bits of paper, cardboard, even food, became airborne at the slightest provocation. Driving a wheel loader in a single-stream recycling facility was not the glamour job she had hoped for, but the pay was good and the insurance a necessity. She had student loans coming due, an ailing grandmother who needed surgery, and rent that was two months past due. She was only twenty-four years old.
Maneuvering the controller to the right, Kenny dumped her bucket of trash into the bin that fed the conveyor belts. A cloud of dust and debris filled the air as she brought the loader about. Shifting gears, she lowered the bucket, digging it into the mountain of trash again. The paper, plastic, and metal in the trash would be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars once it had been separated and recycled.
It was time for lunch, so Kenny drove the front-end loader off the garbage mound and parked it, lowering the bucket until it sat flush with the ground. She jumped off the rig and took off the sweat-soaked paper mask she wore over her mouth and nose, tossing it onto the trash pile.
After freshening up in the bathroom, she walked into the breakroom and over to the employee refrigerator. Opening the worn, grimy-looking refrigerator door, she pulled out her sack lunch. She held the door open for a moment, allowing the air to cool her, as she looked around the room to see who she wanted to sit with. The breakroom was medium-sized, drab and old looking. But it was clean. She spotted her friend sitting at a table and smiled. Seeing a gorgeous redhead with porcelain skin sitting with her friend, her smile grew larger. Even with grimy smudges on her clothes, dirt under her fingernails, and a smell that anyone outside the plant would repelled by, to Kenny, this woman was the most beautiful woman on earth. Kenny removed her hard hat and tucked it under her arm. Then she cupped her hand over her mouth and exhaled. Satisfied, she raked her fingers through her brown hair and smoothed down her bright yellow reflective safety jacket. Finally, she grabbed her lunch sack and walked over to their table.
Her breakup with the maniacal Tyesha Haynes two months ago had been tough. Hell, it was a knife in her back, and she was having difficulty pulling it out. But when she spotted the cute redhead with the dimples in her cheeks sitting with her best friend, she momentarily forgot all about Tyesha.
Kenny cocked her leg out and tucked a thumb in her utility belt. She looked down at the redhead sitting in front of her. “Hey there, come here often?” Oh, God. Lame, lame, lame!
“Yes, ever since they stopped letting us eat on the conveyor belt,” the redhead retorted, glancing at the other woman sitting beside her.
Sofía ‘Sophie’ Sánchez, was a straight, pudgy woman in her forties who was a mother to all and stranger to none. It was Sophie who had told Kenny not to go out with Tyesha, and who also told her, ‘I told you so,’ when Tyesha dumped her. Sophie was the only one who knew Kenny preferred women, and she kept her secret. The plant manager, ex-military, had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy and Kenny desperately needed her job. She had started out working the conveyor line with Sophie. When she heard there was an opening for a wheel loader, which would pay more, she talked a mechanic into teaching her how to drive one.
“Uh, I meant, can I join you guys for lunch?” Kenny asked.
The redhead looked up at Kenny with an inquisitive eye, noting the long bones, muscular shoulders, gorgeous gray-blue eyes, and deep chocolate-brown hair. Despite her standoffishness, the tall woman standing in front of her with dark smudges across her nose where her mask had been, took her breath away.
“Join us, Kenny,” Sophie encouraged.
Scratching her head, Kenny wasn’t sure that she was welcomed. “Uh, thanks,” she said, sitting down and placing her helmet on the chair beside her.
“Have you two met?” Sophie asked. Kenny shook her head. “Well, then, Makenna Whitt, this is Chelsey Kendrick. She works with me in plastics.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Chelsey,” Kenny said smoothly. She held out her hand. “Don’t worry, I washed my hands.”
Chelsey wiped her lips with her napkin and shook Kenny’s hand. “Well, I didn’t.”
It took Kenny a second to realize that Chelsey was joking. “That’s funny,” she chuckled.
Unlike the employees working the conveyor belts, Kenny was down in the trenches of trash and her coveralls, outer clothing, and shoes showed it. Even her T-shirt underneath her shirt was soiled so bad bleach wouldn’t wash it out. It was one of the reasons Tyesha left her.
“So, how are the kids, Sophie?” Kenny asked, as if she didn’t talk with Sophie every day.
Sophie had two children and worked two jobs to keep them in school. Kenny admired her grit and perseverance. If her mother had stuck around, she knew she would have been just like Sophie—tough, strong, and loving. Especially loving.
“They’re doing very well. All A’s in school,” she said, beaming.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Kenny said, as she pulled her banana and peanut butter sandwich from the lunch bag.
“How many kids do you have, Sophie?” Chelsey asked.
“Two. A boy and a girl. My boy, Tobías, is in his third year of college and Alexa, she’s fifteen, left yesterday for church summer camp.”
“I’ll bet you’re enjoying the peace and quiet,” Kenny said.
“Yes and no. She’s growing up so fast.” Sophie checked her watch and picked up her purse. “Almost time for the drawing. Muchas gracias for picking up that lottery ticket for me, Kenny.”
“No problem, Soph. I had to get gas for the motorcycle anyway. I also bought myself one using Móraí’s birthday for the numbers. I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, but when in Rome. Right?”
Chelsey shook her head. “Móraí?”
“Sorry, that’s Irish for grandma,” Kenny explained. She rarely spoke the Irish language or called her grandmother Móraí, but she did it this time to impress Chelsey. “My grandmother was born in Ireland, and my grandparents raised me from a baby.”
“What happened to your parents?” Chelsey asked. “Oh, I’m being too nosy. Never mind.”
“No, it’s all right,” Kenny assured her. “I never knew my parents. My mother…” Kenny was ashamed to admit that her mother was a stinking drug addict who only cared about her next fix. “Let’s just say she wasn’t mature enough to handle a baby so sh
e took off. My grandmother is my true mother.”
Kenny had gotten a late start in life. A life that had challenged her from the beginning. Her mother had abandoned her when she was three months old, and she never knew who her father was. Her grandparents legally adopted her and though loving and supportive, they were also overprotective, terrified she would follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“And how is your Abuela?” Sophie asked, seizing the opportunity to help Kenny out. She looked at Chelsey and smiled. “That’s Spanish for grandmother.”
“It’s like the United Nations in here,” Chelsey chuckled.
“Grandma’s hanging in there. I can tell that she’s in a lot of pain, but she doesn’t complain much.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sophie said. “If I win the lottery, I’ll pay for her surgery myself.”
“That’s super sweet, Sophie, but I’ve almost saved up enough money. If Grandma hadn’t been so stubborn and let me put off college for a while, she’d already have had the surgery by now.”
“That’s not how it works, Kenny. I would never allow my son to put off his future because of me.”
“You sound just like Grandma.”
“How old is your grandmother, Makenna?” Chelsey was intrigued by the handsome woman sitting beside her.
Kenny glanced at her, surprised but pleased by her lack of rancor. “Please, call me Kenny, and she’s sixty-two. She has a spinal compression that causes constant pain and keeps her from working.”
“You carry too great a load, Kenny,” Sophie stated. “You work two jobs, take care of your Abuela, and go to college, too.”
“I’m only working here at the moment. The state closed the other place down.”
Sophie tilted her head. “The truck stop? Why?”
“Turns out those weren’t all chocolate chips in the gravy.”
“Santa María.” Sophie cried. “Do you mind? I’m eating here.”
“Oh, sorry, Soph.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother, Kenny,” Chelsey said. “Is your grandfather still living?”
“He was killed in Iraq, wasn’t he?” Sophie asked as she picked up her glass of tea.
“Yeah, one month before his tour was up.”
“Oh, no,” Chelsey exclaimed. “Did he step on one of those bombs they hide in the ground? An IED?”
“Sort of. It was an AIED. An aerial improvised explosive device. You see, he flew a helicopter in the Iraq war.”
“He died a hero,” Sophie said, wiping her lips with a napkin. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ll be back in a second. It’s almost noon.”
“I’ll get it, Sophie,” Kenny said.
“No, you two keep talking,” she insisted. “I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
She walked over to the far end of the room and stopped at a table with two women and a man. Kenny watched as Sophie put her hand on the man’s shoulder and said something to him that cause everyone at the table to laugh. She was flirting with him. Then the man jumped up, pulled his chair against the wall under the mounted TV set, and stood on it. The remote control to the TV had been lost years ago and management wouldn’t pay for a new one, so if you wanted to watch television you had to manually turn it on.
“He shouldn’t have been there at all,” Chelsey stated, stabbing her fork into a cherry tomato buried under the lettuce in her salad.
“What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kenny demanded, her anger palpable in her voice. She reached under her coveralls and pulled out her billfold. “Do you see this?” She held up a photograph of an Airman holding a six-year-old girl. Chelsey started to say something but Kenny kept going. “That’s Grandpa holding my mother. See that medal he’s wearing? That’s a Purple Heart. He was wounded in Grenada when he was twenty-seven.”
“You misunderstood—”
“And he still answered the call in Iraq. He paid the ultimate—”
“Damn it. Listen to me,” Chelsey demanded.
Kenny’s mouth hung open as she stared at Chelsey. She quickly closed it again.
“I also believe that your grandfather was a hero. Just as my brother was when he was killed in Afghanistan. What I meant, if you’d stop jumping to conclusions, was that we should never have invaded that country in the first place.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, uh, like you said, I misunderstood.” Kenny looked at Chelsey with a new regard. Not only did they have something major in common, but Chelsey wasn’t afraid to stand up for her words to a complete stranger. That took guts and Kenny admired beautiful, feminine women who had guts. “And for the record, I totally agree.”
“Maybe we should change the subject,” Chelsey suggested. “So, um, what are you majoring in, Kenny?”
It boded well for Kenny that Chelsey wanted to keep talking to her after she had stuck her foot in her mouth. “I’m getting my bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, then I’m going to apply to the FBI.”
Butterflies. Chelsey felt the excited flutter of butterflies tickling her stomach. What are the odds?
“It’s the mystery that interests me. The clue that leads to another clue, and then another, until the mystery is solved and the bad guy is caught. Today I presented evidence that solved our mock case faster than anyone else in my class. It was fascinating.”
Chelsey leaned forward and gazed at Kenny. “Do you believe in coincidences, Kenny?”
“No, not really. Why, do you?”
“No. But I do believe in fate. You see, I’m studying to be a forensic scientist, and I want to help catch the bad guys, also.”
“Damn. That is quite the coincidence. What are the odds that two smart, gorgeous, ambitious women like us would be working in a dump like this?”
“Maybe it’s fate, like I said,” Chelsey replied, unconsciously moving her knee against Kenny’s knee. “Did you know that we have a mutual acquaintance in school?”
Kenny slipped her hands under the table and rested them on her thighs, building up the courage to move them closer to her knees. “Yeah? Who’s that?”
“Eloise Osborne. She was in my chemistry class, and I don’t think she’s a fan of yours.”
“What makes you think that?” Kenny asked, inching her fingers closer to Chelsey’s knee.
“Something about you being the teacher’s pet. The crazy thing is that she was flirting with me, and I guess she thought that would be a turn on for me. I pitied her instead.”
Kenny shrugged and cocked her lip. “Funny, I don’t remember that girl, but I certainly wouldn’t use my failures to flirt with a woman. I’d use my hands,” she replied as she placed one on Chelsey’s knee, tracing the structure of her bones with her finger. She waited for a reaction, wondering if she was taking too big a risk. Maybe Chelsey’s knee rub was accidental and not meant to be an invitation. Maybe Chelsey would report her to HR for inappropriate behavior. Then she would be fired.
Kenny couldn’t afford to lose this job. She had already lost her other job, as a dishwasher at the truck stop. But with that job gone, she had more free time to start dating again. At least until she found another second job.
Then she felt Chelsey’s response.
Chelsey gazed into Kenny’s smoldering gray eyes and smiled, rubbing her knee again.
“Uh, have you been warned about the rule?”
Chelsey’s face fell. She scooted her chair back and folded her fingers together on the table. “Yes. So… are you going to report me? I didn’t really do anything wrong.”
“God, no. I wanted to ask you out.”
Chelsey’s face lit up and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Kenny. It’s almost time,” Sophie called from across the room.
“Oh, right. On my way,” she said, waving at Sophie. She looked back at Chelsey.
Chelsey stood up and said, “Come on, we can finish our conversation later.”
“Promise?” Kenny asked, caring less about watching the lottery drawing than of securing a date with the be
autiful redhead.
“Sure, I promise.”
“Have you got your ticket?” Sophie asked, waving her ticket at Kenny.
“Yeah, got it right here,” Kenny replied, pulling out her wallet from the shirt pocket under her overalls.
As they walked over to join Sophie by the television, Kenny pulled out her ticket and put the wallet back in her pocket.
All heads looked up at the television.
“No one has ever won the Powerball jackpot in Arkansas since the lottery commission sold its first ticket back in 2009,” the MC explained, as small white balls with numbers on them spun frantically around in a clear, plastic ball. “The largest Powerball to date, some lucky ticket holder could win a whopping two-hundred million dollar prize, today.”
“So, as I was saying,” Kenny began, looking at Chelsey again.
Sophie glared. “Shh, the first number is about to come up.”
Kenny reluctantly looked down at her ticket and then up at the TV.
The camera zoomed in to the wire frame where the first ball rolled to a stop. The MC used all his dramatic acting skills to ramp up the excitement as each ball came rolling out.
Sophie let out a squeal each time a number matched her ticket, but by the fourth ball, she shook her head in disgust. “¡Maldita pérdida de dinero!”
“And the last ball down the chute is number… lucky thirteen! If you had all six numbers, you are now a multi-millionaire.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Kenny said as she stumbled and slumped down in a chair.
“Kenny, you’re as white as a sheet,” Sophie pointed out. “What’s wrong?”
Kenny held up her lottery ticket.
Sophie snatched it from her trembling hand and looked at the numbers. “¡Hijo de puta!”
“What, Sophie? Did she win?” Chelsey asked excitedly.
“Son of a bitch,” Sophie repeated in English. “She won. Dulce Jesús, she won it all.”
Chapter Two
Jackpot Page 1