Chapter Three
Lucy
“Lucy, for the love of—did you refill the ketchup bottles yet?”
“I’ll get to it once I clear this table, sir.”
“Could you clear it a little faster, please?”
“Want me to swipe my hands across the table and just put everything on the floor?”
Kevin, my boss, was cocking an attitude today. The wrinkles in his forehead cut deep into that stressed little brain of his, and the moment he let out his bombastic sigh, I knew he was about to give me something else to do. We were short-staffed at his restaurant, and people had apparently chosen today to eat the greasy food Kevin’s Place had to offer.
I kept trying to convince him to hire more waitstaff. We were overbooked and underpaid, and part of me wondered where all the money was going. Yes, we worked off mostly tips. And yes, those tips were nice in this joint. But Fred—our cook—deserved a serious raise. He homecooked everything he could and bought fresh from the market up the road when he couldn’t, and it just made everything taste better.
Plus, he was the one responsible for the mouth-watering pies everyone came in for. The man was a master in the kitchen, and this place stayed afloat because of his cooking.
He deserved a raise for the bullshit he put up with. We all did.
“Lucy! Do we have a mop?”
“I hope so. This floor would be nasty if we didn’t,” I said.
“Cut the crap. Where is it?” Kevin asked.
“Don’t know. Haven’t closed up for two weeks.”
Kevin’s Place was this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I’d been working here as a waitress for five years now, and while it paid the bills, it most certainly wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. It was one of the few things in my life that hadn’t been tainted by David, so the mental and emotional relief I found from his memory was comforting here. David had hated the food and never wanted to come in because of how crowded it could get sometimes, so no memories of him existed here.
“Lucy! Where the hell is the ketchup?”
“On the tables, so people can eat with it!”
Kevin tried his best, but the man was overrun. As his job got harder, it seemed his life got more complicated. His children were growing up and leaving home, his wife was constantly coming in here complaining about how they didn’t save for college, and the restaurant needed updates he couldn’t afford. The tile floor was scuffed to the point that you assumed the original color of it was black, the cork board ceilings were beginning to weigh heavily with the humidity of Washington summers, and half the kitchen cookware didn’t work. The lines of age etched into his skin slowly turned to lines of stress, and the gray forming at his temples told me he wasn’t getting enough sleep.
“Lucy!”
“What, Kevin?”
“Hey, don’t take that attitude with me. Why’s that crowd of people just standing around?” he asked.
“They’re waiting for their entire party to show up. They don’t want to be seated until then.”
“Well, that’s stupid. Alright,” he said.
I ran around the slick floor and tried to keep everyone’s orders in line. People kept changing their drinks and wanting alterations to their orders after they’d been already placed, and for a brief second, I thought about quitting and walking out. I didn’t have much work experience, but I had a feeling if I took my five years of experience here across the street to any other restaurant, they’d hire me in a heartbeat.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, can you come here?”
“Yes,” I said. “Can I help you?”
“Are these peppers?”
I looked at the green and red speckles and knew exactly what he was about to ask. He didn’t know there were peppers in it, even though it’s called a bell pepper omelet, and he was going to send it back to the kitchen to be fixed.
“Yes, sir. Those are peppers.”
“I don’t like peppers. Could you take them out?” he asked.
I wanted to pluck every single piece of pepper and throw it on the ground. I gave him a tight smile before I took the plate from him, and then I went back to the kitchen to deal with the chef. Every time something came back, he would kick up a fuss, and we’d have to stand there and indulge it to get the fixed plate of food.
“Ma’am, could you come here a second?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Is this vanilla Coke or cherry Coke?” she asked.
“I’m not too sure, ma’am. They both look the same.”
“Cute. Listen, it tastes like cherry, and I wanted vanilla. Is that doable?”
“We don’t have vanilla Coke here,” I said.
“My friend said she got it last week.”
“We had it last week, but we don’t have it this week,” I said.
“Well, order some more. I really enjoy it.”
“I’ll let the owner know. In the meantime, is regular Coke alright?”
“No, I’ll stick with the cherry,” she said.
“Great.”
How was I supposed to know when we had vanilla coke and when we had cherry coke? It was my boss’s job to switch out the labels on our soda machine. Not my fault if he didn’t label it properly. Vanilla Coke and cherry Coke looks just like regular Coke, and you don’t know what it tastes like until you try it. I guess I could’ve bent over and sipped through her straw really quick, but something in my gut told me she wouldn’t be very appreciative.
“Lucy, don’t cock an attitude with the customers, no matter how stupid they get,” Kevin said.
“I’ll try, but it’s hard when you learn from the best.”
That earned a grin from Kevin, and it seemed to lighten the mood. Four hours into my ten-hour shift, and already this type of bullshit was kicking up. I was hoping it would slow down after lunch so everyone could get a breather, but the moment I sat down and tried to catch my breath, Angie walked up beside me.
“Girl, you should see my new boyfriend,” she said. “All man and no meat, just how I like ‘em.”
“You’ve always gone for the skinny white guys,” I said.
“Because they got big dicks, girl! I’m serious. You should take one for a spin.”
“Well, congratulations on your new skinny mini meat train,” I smirked.
Angie was a cute little waitress I’d trained four years ago. Started working just out of high school, hell-bent on defying her parents and not going to college. She had this bubbly attitude that got real scary in a hurry if you pissed her off, and in all the years I’d worked with her, she’d never once come in here without a smile. Her parents would come in from time to time and try to convince her to go back to school. She’d flash them her pearly white smile that flattered her chubby little cheeks, and she’d politely tell them to fuck off.
I had to duck back behind the counter to keep from laughing the first time I’d ever heard her say it.
“Lucy!” Kevin called out. “Can you come here?”
“He’s not gonna shut up today, is he?” Angie asked.
“Depends. How much do muzzles cost, and can Amazon get it here quick enough?”
I left Angie giggling while I went in search of Kevin. Customers were calling out for me, no doubt wanting changes to their food or for me to magically tell them their future by the color of their drink, but right now I had to dig my boss out of whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into.
“Kevin?”
“Back here,” he said.
I walked into the walk-in refrigeration unit that hadn’t worked ever since I’d started here, and when I came around the corner, I couldn’t help but laugh. Kevin was on the floor in a puddle of dirty mop water with the actual mop splattered right onto his head. His body was absolutely soaked, and he couldn’t get any traction to get up. I had to put my hand up to my face to keep from laughing at him.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I found it, so that’s a plus,” he said. “Can you help me up?”
I reached down for his hand, and for a second, I thought I was going to fall into his lap. Kevin was no little person, and we had to heave-ho for a few seconds before we could get him up onto his feet. His khakis and dark blue shirt were soaked and stank of week-old moldy diner food. Yet, he ran his hands down his face without a care in the world as to where they’d just been.
“You need a shower,” I said, crinkling my nose.
“Care to inform me where I’m gonna take one?” he asked.
“Home. Where you usually take them. Angie and I can hold down the fort until you get back.”
“If I go home, my wife’ll just nag me about something we forgot to do or a bird that’s stuck in a tree or the gutters that haven’t been cleaned.”
“Then you shouldn’t have gotten married, and while you pay us, you don’t pay us enough to smell you for the rest of the day. Go home and get a shower,” I said.
“Since when did you become so bossy?” he asked.
“Since I started working for you.”
There was that telltale grin that everyone loved about Kevin. Yes, he had stress lines in his face, and yes, he had tacked on a serious amount of weight over the years. His ankles were constantly red and swollen from work, and his hands were starting to grow calloused with always fixing shit around here. He was balding, his wide nose was perpetually red, and even his dark brown eyes seemed tired and fed up. But when he chanced to grin, even just a little bit, there was a sparkle in his eye that reminded us all of warm childhood memories and dads that chased us out in the yard in the rain.
“I’ll be back in a half an hour. If I’m late, call the cops. Means my wife’s got me cornered.”
“Got it,” I said. “But you should really go out the back door. Lots of people are still eating.”
“Good idea,” he said.
I left the mess for now and went back out to the dining area. If I cleaned it, I’d have to clean myself before I could serve food, and I’m sure there were plenty of people complaining about how their order was wrong when really they just didn’t read our menu before ordering. Angie was running back and forth across the floor while people had their hands in the air, and for a split second, I thought this was it.
This was what hell was like.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, I’ve been waiting for a while over here,” one woman said.
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?” I asked.
“My coffee isn’t hot enough.”
“How long have you had it?” I asked.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes. One implies fault on your part, and the other implies fault on ours.”
I heard Angie snicker off in the distance while the woman sat looking at me with her lips pulled taut. I ran and grabbed the fresh pot of coffee steaming from the top. When I refilled her cup, she looked less than pleased with the amount of steam billowing up to her layers and layers of makeup.
“Be careful. It’s gonna be piping hot,” I said.
“Order up!” the chef called out.
“Got it,” Angie said.
“Ma’am, my order’s wrong.”
“Ma’am, could I have some more ice?”
“Ma’am, I have too much ice.”
“Ma’am, do the liver and onions use actual liver?”
I thought my seventh circle of hell would never end, but when everyone had finally cleared out, I got a chance to sit at one of the booths I’d just cleaned. Angie brought me a cup of coffee and sat down in front of me. The only thing I could do was take a deep sniff of the glorious black oil and let the feeling of warmth cascade into my bones.
“Hopefully it’s hot enough,” Angie said with a wink.
“Thank god for the break,” I said. “I was beginning to sympathize with arsonists.”
“Today’s been a bit of a shithole, yes. But my parents haven’t walked in yet, so I’m good.”
“Talked to them at all lately?” I asked.
“Not really. And they haven’t come in this month at all, so I’m due for something. A profanity-filled phone call or a nice ‘fuck off’ just before they pay their bill. It’s therapeutic really.”
“And all this because you don’t wanna go to school?” I asked.
“I got plans. They just don’t believe in them.”
“Besides screwing skinny white guys with big dicks?”
“Who’s got a big dick?” the chef yelled.
“My new boyfriend, Fred!” Angie called out.
“Can I get some pictures?”
Fred had been the head chef at Kevin’s Place for almost two decades, but by head chef, we mean the only person who’s ever gonna tolerate how that kitchen is set up. He always complained about not having working stoves and oven tops and all that shit. Then, he’d come into work day in and day out and somehow churn out food that wasn’t half bad with one working stove and a tabletop griddle. Working Mondays were the best at this place because Fred always had wild stories from his weekends of the guys he took home and the girls he ate out in the clubs he went to. Fred loved everyone, appreciated every bodily form he came across, and always had a good sex story in his pocket no matter the cause.
“When I can take them, sure,” Angie said, giggling.
“Well, he seems to make you happy, so I’m happy for you,” I said.
“How’s your sister?” she asked.
“You know, still doing her hair thing. She’s excited because of something to do with millennials and funky colors. I don’t really get it.”
“Oh, yeah. Everyone I know has some weird haircut with rainbow colors. I thought about it once, and then, I realized how much money it would take to upkeep the color. I told them to suck it.”
“Yeah, she was excited about the monetary opportunity, so that’s probably why,” I said.
I thought about the conversation I’d had with Bri a few days ago, and then, I took a look at Angie. Her jet-black hair flowed around her face in ringlet curls, and her thin lips always seemed to stay a natural shade of healthy pink. Her chubby cheeks went well with the rest of her curves, and the way she sashayed her hips with confidence every time she walked turned the heads of many customers in this diner. She oozed confidence and sex appeal, so it wasn’t a shocker that she had a new fling every month, and part of me wondered if I should ask her for help.
She obviously had a knack for this dating thing, and maybe Bri had been right. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to dip my toe back into the waters to see how it felt. If I didn’t like it—if it didn’t feel right—I could always tell Bri I tried.
“Hey, Angie. Could I ask you something?”
“Depends. Who’s takin’ that crowd of people?”
I looked behind me where a large group of eight people pushed through the door. They seemed pleased that the place was relatively empty, but all I could do was bite back my groan before I chugged the rest of my coffee. Whatever moment of temporary insanity I’d had would have to wait because I was taking care of the part of the diner that had the tables you could push together.
“Hey there, everyone. Just eight today, or are we waiting on more people?”
I led them to their seats and took their drink orders. For the first time since David had passed, I found a pair of eyes I thought were pretty. The young man sitting at the far end of the table had mesmerizing hazel eyes, a stark contrast to David’s deep brown ones. He shined his maximum wattage smile at me before beckoning me over with his finger, and when I dipped down beside him to answer a few questions about the menu, I could tell he was trying to sniff my hair.
Maybe I wasn’t as far removed from the game as I thought I was.