*
After dropping a loaded trailer at my company's drop yard in Girard, I was lounging in the bunk and chatting with
"Can I sit inside for a minute? It's really cold out here. I'm a sweetheart, you don't have to worry about me."
I already knew where this was going, but it wasn't the typical opening. She was in her late-30s/early-40s with a slim build. Even in the dim light of the cab, I could see her face had the weathered look of someone who's had a hard-knock life so far. She wasn't dirty or unkempt, and her clothes were in good shape, but she looked tough, like sun-dried leather. I was standing on the other side of the seat. I stuck my knee into the seat and leaned forward.
"I'm getting ready to go to bed, hon. I can't let you in."
She asked again, sticking with the "it's cold" and "I'm a nice girl" routine. When I refused again, the story changed.
"I ran out of gas and need some money."
That's how it usually opens. I gave my usual reply that I didn't have any cash on me, that I don't carry it and just use my bank card while I'm on the road. Of course, she volleyed with the typical response.
"What about change? Anything?"
I conceded and scraped the silver from the inside of my pocket and handed it to her.
"You got a cigarette?"
I thought I could at least give the girl a smoke before sending her on her way. I glanced at the dash but the box of cigarettes weren't there. I had left them in the bunk where I had been resting. I told her I'd give her a cigarette, and removed my knee from the seat and turned toward the bunk. I just needed to take a step back there to grab the smokes. On my way to the bunk I heard her say, "I just want to warm-up for a second."
Great.
Cigarettes in hand I turned to find her sitting in the driver seat. I pulled one from the pack.
"I really am a sweetheart. Look at these, nice body and everything."
She was referring to her breasts, as she had pulled her T-shirt up to reveal them stuffed into a black bra. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a nice rack.
"I'm not interested," I replied. She lowered her shirt and I handed her the cigarette.
"I really could use $20. Maybe we can work something out?"
I told her again I wasn't interested and handed her my lighter. She lit the cigarette and handed it back.
"You don't have a change jar or anything?"
I told her that I needed for her to leave. She reluctantly pulled the door handle and exited the truck, back into the cold, rainy night.