Lost and Lonely

Chapter 1: Introductions

A/N: This story is for people who think Aaron Lewis is a sexy daddy. Also if you just like a good DD/LG story, it gets there after some story line build-up in the beginning. Enjoy!

  Another day, another dollar. And by dollar, I mean a few sweaty nickels from the town drunk, Bill. I don't even want to know where the sweat comes from, I just know the pizza guy always looks at me with disgust when his tip is a bag of sweaty nickels.

I should introduce myself. My name's Jessie Lynn Burke, and I'm a class-A redneck, white-trash, Southern girl. My life is also a mess, so sorry about that, but I can't really do anything about it. I've been working as a waitress since I graduated high school, which was 4 years ago. I actually had a 3.8 GPA, which is shocking looking at my family history. To keep it short and simple, and not a complete sob-story, my dad abandoned my mom and I when I was 5, so I don't remember much of him. And my mom turned to drugs to deal with it, so I basically raised myself.

I made school a priority so I could get out of this podunk town where nothing ever happens, and I had a lot of scholarships offered to me when I graduated. However, right after I graduated, I got caught fist-fighting a drug dealer who was trying to rape me. The cops didn't listen to me, thought I was just a whore that was trying to get more drugs from him, so I spent a few weeks in jail. Once I got out, every college pulled my scholarship away. So, here I was, stuck in my shit life.

I grumbled and peeked an eye open, realizing the sun was super bright and it was definitely later than I thought. I sat up and looked at my phone: I had 30 minutes to get to my 2pm shift. Shit. I jumped in the shower, scrubbing and rinsing and jumping back out. Drying myself off with a towel, I rummaged through my drawers to find a pair of black short-shorts and a bar t-shirt. It proudly read 'Red's Southern Heat Bar and Grill.' Although, I'd suggested to Grundy, my boss, that we should definitely have a small line of text underneath it that said 'Emphasis on the bar part.' He didn't think it was funny, but Drunk Bill had thought it was hilarious, and had left me a whole sweaty dollar that night. Thanks Bill. 

 I ran a brush through my hair, smeared some eyeliner, mascara, and foundation on, grabbed my phone and purse, and ran out the door. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so I could walk and get their just on time. Wan, my landlord who owned the Chinese restaurant I lived above, glared at me and began yelling in his native tongue.

"Wan, I'll have rent by tonight! Get off my case! No one else will rent your shitty apartment anyways!" I yelled back at him, running through the back door and away from his angry Chinese grumblings. I was always late on rent, what did he expect?

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that I live in a studio apartment above a Chinese restaurant. And it wasn't true about no one else wanting to rent there, Drunk Bill had wanted that apartment since I moved in. I mean, what would be better for him than to get drunk and be able to go home and eat as many cartons of fried rice as he possibly could? Sounds like a drunk's dream. So, now you know even more about my sad, pathetic life. I wondered all the time if it wasn't going to get better, could it get worse? When thinking that, I realized that Wan could always offer a roommate position to Bill in my studio apartment, and came to see that it could, indeed, get worse.

"Yo, Jessie!" Brady. Shit.

"Brady, I'm running late, don't make me kick your ass again," I growled at him, walking right past him. He'd been in his usual morning spot, leaning against the wall of the library, waiting for anyone who wanted a hook-up. Oh, yeah: Brady is the drug dealer who got me landed in the slammer. So we weren't really on good terms, though he really didn't get the hint.