A/N: So, I'm not good at these *awkwardly waves*
Updates will be once a week, some chapters longer than others, because I'm transitioning into my Fall semester of college and things are guaranteed to be very hectic. Late Night Milkshakes is a little slice of life with the potential for some angst, mostly it's just meant to make you giggle or blush.
Some quick notes: Like all the stories I write, the year is somewhere between 2009-2012. These were some of the best years of my life, so I enjoy this kind of setting...regardless of it's significance to the general plot. Oh, and I don't have beta so all grammar mistakes belong to me. The characters belong to SM.
I hope ya'll enjoy the chapter!
Chapter I
"One chicks on a raft, hold the cow paste!"
"Looks like the English are in town, cause we gtta burn the British!"
"Table six is missing their sea dust, Bella! Hurry, Bella!"
Newton's Diner is abuzz with laughter and hunger as the dinner rush begins. The retro diner sits comfortably the edge of Forks, a staple hot-spot for all nightly cravings of milkshakes and burgers.
The is staff dressed in mustard yellow shirts and faded blue skirts, paired with Newton Diner's signature blue roller-skates. The only exception to the infamous roller-skate rule is the kitchen staff and Mrs. Newton, who worked as the eyes and ears of the diner, dealing with costumer complaints and everything that has to do with money. A shrewd old women, Mrs. Newton seldom had anything nice to say, but is a well-respected member in Forks society. For all her harsh words and high expectations, she had a habit of being right.
In the kitchen, Mr. Newton handled most of the cooking himself. A stubborn old man, nearing the age of sixty, believes any extra hands in the kitchen would only slow him down and lessen the quality of food. With over forty years of experience, there was no arguing with Mr. Newton. That was until he had a stroke a year ago. Mrs. Newton, with the support of the doctors, triumphantly convinced Mr. Newton to hire a few more hands.
In addition to the big bosses of the restaurants, there are three regular waitresses: Jessica, Angela, and Lauren. Jessica and Lauren worked at Newton's since their Sophomore year of high school, while Angela started a year ago. Angela worked as the Assistant Liberian at Forks Library, a job that brought her great pleasure, but after some rowdy high schoolers pulled a bad prank that involved candles, the whole place burned down, forcing Angela to seek employment elsewhere.
As Forks Library is three months away from completion, Mrs. Newton felt it was time to look for a replacement.
And so she found one in the Chief of Police's daughter. A quiet, clumsy girl she is; likable but ill suited for a career as waitress. Mrs. Newton was becoming frustrated with the girl, for she frequently messed up orders and dropped things. The only reason Mrs. Newton restrained herself from firing the girl was out of respect for Charlie, and his current condition.
"It's God testing your patience," Mr. Newton joked one night before bed. He laid on their shared feather bed, rubbing his beer gut with a smirk,"The Shrew has no choice, which drives her mad." With that, he entered a chuckling fit as Mrs. Newton stared, glaring at him.
The following weeks were rough, and Mrs. Newton was slowly gaining the courage to fire the girl.
Mrs. Newton rounded the corner of the bar to see Bella feverishly writing down on a notepad, her bun messy and her top drenched in sweat. Jessica, who followed behind Mrs. Newton, clicked her tongue and Bella immediately stopped what she was doing to stare helplessly at Mrs. Newton.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Bella cried shuffling her papers around,"Everyone is going so fast, I can hardly keep up."
Jessica picked up some of the tickets and started to giggle as she read them," Look Mrs. Newton, she's writing everything word for word."
"Are you laughing, Jessica?" Mrs. Newton raised an eyebrow, remembering Jessica's first week at Newton's Diner. She spilled, tripped, and knocked over everything in her path.
Jessica turned pink as the memories flooded in.
"I should of known better than to start you off on ticket duty on a Saturday," Mrs. Newton helped Bella stand up and brushed the hair from Bella's face,"Go to the back, fix yourself up, and help with dishes."
"But what about tickets," Bella protested, holding up a pile of crumpled, blue tickets.
"Jessica will be a sweat-heart and take over ticketing," Mrs. Newton did not wait for Jessica's words of protest before ushering Bella to the back.
Bella was disappointed in herself, she wanted to make a good impression on Mrs. Newton, who hired Bella despite her lackluster resume. Bella was so grateful to have a job, even if it was at a diner.
Bella moved from her mother's house in Arizona six months ago, and flew back to her childhood house in Forks. The adjustment from the sunny, bustling city of Phoenix to the rainy, mundane Forks was difficult for Bella.
In the bathroom, she stared into the mirror, unable to recognize the once ambitious, optimistic girl she had been when she graduated high school. She felt like the world was her's for the taking, like nothing could hold her back from obtaining her dreams. She had a full ride to the University of Phoenix, job security in one of the residential offices on campus, and had enough money saved up for a used car.
But then her dad called, and she had to forget her future.
Bella wet her hair and styled it into a low pony-tale. She washed her face and hands, took a deep breath and put on her hairnet.
The rest of the dinner rush passed smoothly, Newton's Diner was a well-oiled machine that not even Bella could disrupt.
Washing dishes was an easy enough task that not even Bella could mess up. For all Bella's shortcomings, she always did what she was told without complaining. Mrs. Newton came to check on Bella every few hours, making sure that the staff still had their hands and nothing was ablaze. After awhile, Mrs. Newton began to feel bad for submitting Bella to bus-girl, it wasn't a fun job, and she never made anyone do dishes for hours straight.
Around 10pm, Bella had cleaned nearly all of the dirty pots and pans when Mrs. Newton called her out front.
Bella hung her blue apron on the rack and tired the white one on in it's place.
"I'm having Angela leave early, while Jessica and Lauren help close the kitchen. I'm going to begin counting the registers in my office, while you, my pretty girl, will act as the leading waitress for the rest of the night," Mrs. Newton smiled encouragingly. It gave her great anxiety to leave Bella in charge, but she really did feel bad for the girl.
"Are you sure?" Bella asked, grimacing. Granted, the diner will close in two hours, but the last thing Bella wanted was to disappoint Mrs. Newton twice in one day.
"I'm more than sure, honey. People rarely come this late, you'll be bored if anything. When there's no one here, or if you're waiting on an order, do busy work. Make sure the tables are clean, the dressings stocked, ect," She rubbed Bella's arms encouragingly before going to through the double doors.
As promised, the next hour passed by slowly. There were a few stragglers, who had simple orders, and as Mrs. Newton foresaw, Bella begun to get bored.
Bella was wiping down the bar for the third time when the wind chimes above the entrance went off. Immediately, Bella stopped what she was doing and picked up her notepad.
A tall man in a baseball hat, green hoodie, and ripped jeans walked in. Without waiting to be seated, he went to an empty booth at the far end of the diner. Bella stared for a minute, and crinkled her nose because he looked so dirty. His brown boots were covered in grass, dirt, and mud. Bella made a mental note to scrub that booth clean after he leaves.
"Good evening, sir," She greeted him cheerfully, in a way that was comforting but not overbearing, as Mrs. Newton had taught her. "Can I start you off with a drink?" Bella asked as she laid the menu in front of him.
For a minute, the man sat starring at the menu. The silent made Bella uncomfortable, she cleared her throat as politely as she could, but he made no move to answer. Bella was about to try for a second time when his lip twitched. Like he was amused that she was still standing there, "You can get me a black coffee, if you want."
The way he said it, it was like he was doing her a favor.
Bella was shocked at his behavior, it was cocky and lazy, as if we were all on his time. Knowing Mrs. Newton was nearby stopped Bella from calling him out on this, her need for a job triumphed her desire to hurt his ego. Despite every fiber in her being that encouraged her to pour a piping cup of black coffee over his head, she smiled and said:"Of course."
Watching her struggle internally caused him chuckle softly.
Bella returned to the mystery man shortly, with a cup of fresh coffee, "Are you ready to order or would you like some more time to decide?"
Again, the man did not answer right away. He took a sip of the coffee, used a napkin to wipe some of the dirt from his hands, and then closed the menu.
Bella's left hand clenched into a fist. She quickly brought both hands behind her, refusing to show another break in her professional composure.
"A stack of strawberry pancakes, no butter or syrup," he handed Bella the menu. Bella stared at his hand for a second, despite his attempt to clean his hands with the napkin, there was still dirt under his finger nails.
"Right away, sir." Was all Bella said before she grabbed the menu, deliberately taking it from the edges.
Bella wrote down his order on a ticket, and hung it up for Mr. Newton. The pancakes took a little longer than usual since it was so close to closing.
While the pancakes cooked, Bella stayed behind the counter, refusing to go near the man unless she had to. Although she pretended to clean, she watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn't take out his phone or anything, instead he would feverishly write in a small, yellow notepad. Bella couldn't tell what he was writing from afar, but when he grunted, held up his hand and pointed to his now empty cup of coffee, Bella was able to come closer to inspect the notepad. It looked like a list of sorts, it was hard to tell because his hand writing looked like straight up chicken scratch.
Bella silently filled up his cup before returning behind the counter.
The mystery man did not speak or look up for the rest of the night, not even when Bella gave him the pancakes. He did not touch his pancakes, either.
It was not until Bella switched the neon lights that said "on" off, that he suddenly dropped his pen and begun to devour his pancakes. It was barely five minutes late when he took his last bite. Bella made her way back to his table, the check in hand, that the man abruptly got up. As if sensing her, he gathered his belongings and stormed out the door.
Bella half ran to his table, ready to chase him out into the streets, when she saw a twenty-dollar bill folded neatly under the napkins.
