Despite the shower incident with Finn I managed to make it to work on time. Somewhat winded.

But on time.

There were three other waitresses working. Missy and Maya were identical twin sisters with long blonde hair and matching gap-toothed smiles. They stood off to the side, I caught an exchange of knowing glances between them while I dried some glasses.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Missy just wanted to know…” Maya started.

Maya nudged her in the shoulder and spoke between her teeth. “No, I didn’t. YOU wanted to know.”

“Know what?” I prompted, setting down the glass.

“About your clothes,” Missy and Maya echoed.

I glanced down at my long denim skirt and button-down shirt. “What do you want to know?”

“They want to know why you’re wearing them,” another voice jumped in. Kayla, another waitress who I assumed was around my age. Her skin was flawless and she had a big red lipped smile that showed off stunningly bright white teeth.

They all wore tight tops and short shorts, paired with sneakers or boots. Kayla’s entire outfit looked as if it were painted on, showing off her tiny waist and perfectly round breasts.

Just like Finn’s body, I wasn’t appalled by their form as I was always taught I should be. That women should hide their figures, but one look at these women and their beautiful curves and I knew that way of thinking had to be wrong. Why hide the very things that makes us women? That makes us beautiful.

It had me wondering what Finn might have thought when he’d seen all of me that morning. Did he think my naked figure was beautiful?

As beautiful as I thought his was?

“I come from a conservative family,” I said, using the same simple explanation I’d given Josh.

“You all go back to work and mind your own damned business,” Critter chimed in. The girls scattered like roaches under a light.

I considered what the other girls were wearing. “I’m sorry. Should I be wearing something else?” I glanced down at my skirt. “I forgot to ask about the dress code.”

Critter held up his hand and cut me off. “If that’s what you want to wear, then that’s what you should wear.” He shrugged. “It’s really as simple as that. No dress code around here except just, you know…wear some damned clothes.”

“It’s not what I want to wear,” I admitted, glancing back over to Kayla who had a tray of glasses raised above her head. She walked from table to table with confidence and a smile.

“Then I recommend heading to Bebe’s. She’ll take care of you.” Critter tapped out some numbers on an ancient calculator under the even more ancient looking register and jotted some notes down in a receipt book.

“Josh said the same thing.”

“And that girl knows her clothes. Despite the police uniform and that look in her eye like she’s about to cut you,” Critter joked.

He went back to the kitchen and put Kayla in charge of showing me the ropes. She was patient with me while I tried to grasp the concept.

I hadn’t eaten out much in my life, never mind waited tables, but toward the middle of the day I was finally catching on and knew the abbreviation for most everything on the menu and how to write them down on the order slip.

“So where are you staying, Sawyer?” Maya asked. She threw me a rag and I followed her lead, wiping down tables and refilling the ketchup and mustard bottles. We were in the middle of shifting gears between the lunch and dinner crowd.

“Off Orange Grove Blvd. If you ever want to come by, just look for the old shack in the middle of nowhere. I’m the camper across the way under about three feet of mud,” I said.

“Mud is our town mascot,” Kayla chimed in, grabbing a broom and sweeping up around the bar, sliding the stools in and out, the feet making a horrible scraping noise against the concrete floor.

“So I hear.”

“Have you gotten a chance to meet anyone else in town?” Maya asked, spraying the front window with glass cleaner and wiping it down with a big coffee filter. “Less streaks than paper towels,” she explained when she saw me staring.

“I met Josh,” I started.

They all nodded. No further description needed. “Critter, of course.”

An image of Caribbean blue eyes and an angry scowl came to mine. “And…Finn?” His name came out like a question.

All three girls stopped what they were doing. Kayla dropped her broom. Maya set her spray bottle down on the floor. Missy looked up from filing her nails.

“Finn Hollis?” Maya asked.

“Unless there is another Finn?” I tightened the lid on a ketchup bottle.

“Are you sure it was Finn? Blonde hair. Tall. Rugged. Come-hither eyes attached to a come-hither body?” Kayla asked.

“That’s him.” I nodded.

“And he TALKED to you?” Maya leaned her chin on her hand. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Not anymore.”

“Uh, yes. He talked to me.” If you considered threats to be talking. “But only briefly.” I wasn’t about to tell them about what had happened earlier.

Before I knew it, they were all standing around the table I was wiping down. “What? What is it you aren’t telling me?” I asked.

Kayla rested her elbows on the table. She folded her hands together, creating a steeple. She lowered her voice so the three of us had to lean in to hear what she had to say. “Let me tell you a story. A fairytale, if you will.”

“All right.” I set down my rag and took a seat across from her. The twins followed.

Kayla dramatically looked between the three of us like what she was about to tell us was classified information.

“Once upon a time,” Kayla started. “Finn Hollis was known as the lord of the swamp. He was a do-er. Someone who could get anything done in a moment’s notice. Some of the things he did were on the up-and-up. Others were only mentioned in the softest of hushed whispers after Sunday church. You either loved him. Hated him. Feared him,” she bit her lower lip, “or lusted after him.”

The twins giggled.

“Regardless, Finn WAS Outskirts. Our golden boy. More popular than our own mayor. Then one day, a terrible tragedy drove him deep into the swamp to wallow in his grief. He still comes around from time to time, but sightings of him are almost as rare as the Swamp Ape, although told between residents of Outskirts with even more surprise and awe.”

“Swamp ape?” I questioned.

“Think of it like a redneck Yeti,” Maya chimed in.

“Okaaaay.” I slid my chair back and stepped away from the table. Suddenly feeling the need to put some distance between myself and the legend of Finn Hollis. Although one more question lingered in my mind.

“What happened?” I asked. “What was the great tragedy that made him run off?”

Maya emptied a dustpan into the trash and glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was a sad one. “The lord lost his lady.”