Paula put her hand on her throat, almost breathless. Jason had promised her a dance.
When the door closed, Tyne scowled at her. “Really? The guy didn’t put any effort into that, and you’re going to fall all over yourself?”
“Hey, I have the hots for him, okay? It’s the first time he’s offered me a crumb.”
“What is he…fifteen? He’ll make your day by hanging out with you? He probably won’t even buy you a drink.” Tyne watched the box truck pull away. “He’s a douche. He wanted to let me know he had you in the palm of his hand. Sort of pathetic, if you ask me.”
“You’re worth more than that. Guys would line up to dance with you.”
Paula motioned to her black chef’s coat and drawstring pants. Everything she owned bagged on her. “I don’t think so.”
“Not like that,” Tyne said. “But if you put on something that showed you have tits and a shape, they would.”
“I need to lose weight.”
“Bullshit. Every woman in America thinks she’s too fat. You’re cute, and if you don’t know it, you should.”
That word again. Cute. But it could be worse. She’d take it.
Tyne pointed a finger in her direction. “Demand a little more."