Author: A.R. Fredrick
Archive: With Permission Only
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Spoilers: None
Disclaimer:"If I owned Teen Titans, I'd also own a Rolex."
Foreword & Notes:
Here I am again folks, a day late and a few dollars short. I hope that this chapter finds all of you well, and in good spirits. In comparison to my other chapters, this one is a tad shorter, however you should rest assured that there is plenty more in the works. On A side note, things start heating up for Mr. Grayson after this chapter, in more ways than one. Watch for it.
The Future:
Rain, rain….and….uh….more rain?
Chapter
Six
The
Stackhouse
A
man begins cutting his wisdom teeth
The
first time he bites off more than he
Can
chew. - Herb Caen
Tell Me Why - Will Smith
Getting off of the interstate highway just as dusk gave way to a new dawn, Richard Grayson pulled into a nondescript motel that had a vacancy. After facing Raven the past midnight, he had become weary, and was in need of rest. Steering his motorcycle gently into a parking place, he finally came to a stop. It was a little after ten o' clock , and he had been riding for nearly nine hours. Stopping once to refuel the bike along the way, he now needed time to refuel his body with sleep, and something to eat.
The Royal Arms Motel was shabby and somewhat rundown. After taking the time to check in with the desk clerk and secure a room, he was directed to the adjacent dining facility called the Stackhouse. Entering the diner, he was struck by the retro fifties feel of the place. The small diner was dressed up in hues of pink, and layers of Formica. Elvis adorned the walls of this breakfast kingdom.
In the far corner of the room, flanked on both sides by booths, was a jukebox. Another piece of nostalgia to recreate a fifties feel. The Jukebox was a replica of an old style Wurlitzer, it featured a stained oak finish, and blue neon accent lighting running the length of the machine. It was truly a work of art in its own right. Right now Richard could hear James Brown crooning the lyrics to "I Feel Good."
The Stackhouse was known for the pancakes it served and the bountiful amount of breakfast fare it provided. The diner played host to travelers as well as truckers, which was evident from the semi-trucks in the parking lot, and the bearded drivers occupying the comfy booths of the diner. Richard walked over to the counter, and sat down on an empty barstool. Thankful for the stationary seat, he picked up the menu which is already on the counter waiting for the next customer.
Breathing in the rich aroma of brewing coffee he read over the menu, and decided on a simple breakfast. The waitress, who had previously been occupied in the kitchen, emerged from the depths of the culinary operating room with a fresh pot of coffee. He looked up at her, and was struck by her simple and raw beauty.
It was obvious to him that the daily operation of this diner, and also the motel, was a family affair. The promise of the American Dream had been fulfilled for these people, and he was glad to see that their business was thriving, even if the building itself was in overall need of renovation. The waitress was Hindu, as was the desk clerk of the motel, and it was likely to assume that the chef in the kitchen was as well.
Richard was not one to often be taken with a woman the first time he laid eyes on her. However, there was something about her that was magnetic. Her presence in the room drew his gaze, and he felt a weird sense of déjà vu upon seeing her. Her eyes were deep and soft, a light shade of chocolate. Her skin had the consistency of caramel, her lips a light pinkish brown. Her ebony hair flowed behind her freely as she walked, and it trailed past her shoulders in a wave of ringlet curls.
Their eyes met briefly, and she smiled at him while still in mid-stride. Making her way over to one of the dining booths, she offered to refill another patron's coffee, and quickly excused herself after the man issued a grunt of thanks for her service. Stopping at two more tables, and refilling five more cups in the process, her carafe emptied. She looked in the general direction of the kitchen, as if trying to decide if she should run for another pot, however fate is against her in this endeavor.
Following the direction of her gaze, Richard noticed that she had seen customers getting ready to leave. As reliable as clockwork, she moves towards their table, issuing a thanks for their patronage. He watched her as she busied herself busing the table, removing a damp cloth from a hidden pocket to clean the surface of the table, as she collected the dishes.
He watched as she bent over to collect a stray coffee cup perched on a windowsill adjacent to the table, and felt his face begin to flush, as she leaned further forward Richard was afforded with an ample view of her butt. Round and supple, he felt his heart beat go wild, as he spied on her. Every rational part of him insisted that he look away, but her butt was so cute and round, and he was a guy after all. It was expected of him to sneak a peek every once and awhile.
She turned to face Richard, while he was still watching her, and he freaked. He knew by doing so he was giving himself away, however he was prone to bad behavior when it came to women. Turning the stool quickly, he righted himself and tried to pretend he was studying the menu. Trying to play it cool, and nonchalant, he even began to hum the tune from the James Brown ballad that had just finished playing on the Juke.
As he turned slightly, meaning to watch her from the corner of his eye, she sighed. To make matters worse, when Richard saw her, she was shaking her head, which meant that it was almost a sure bet, that she had caught him staring. He felt awkward, knowing that he had hardly broken his gaze upon her. But there was something about this woman that mystified him.
Apparently satisfied with the silent curses she directed towards him for staring, she turned back to the table, and the pile of dishes that were waiting to be dealt with. He watched as she gathered the plates, silverware, cups, coffee carafe, cleaning rag, and tip left by the departing customer. After doing so, she proceeded towards the counter area, expertly balancing the dishes along the way. She walked to an area beside the cash register, and stepped back behind the counter once more, closing the swinging partition behind her as she went.
The waitress noticed him once more, and offered him a smile, one that was both sincere and forced in the same instance. Richard nodded at her, while giving a smile of his own. Never once stopping in the time this series of events took place, she continued to her final destination. Stepping through a doorway located directly behind the cash register, she entered the kitchen area, thus disappearing from his sight. He heard her fumbling with the dishes, listened intently as she muttered a soft curse, and then smiled at her when she reappeared again.
The counter between them, she obviously feels more confident. She walked over to him, taking a notepad from her apron and standing in front of him, she looked at him in a questioning manner, waiting to hear his order.
But Richard is still studying her features, and has not thought of food. She is not wearing any make-up. But her skin is still soft looking, he can smell the fragrance of her perfume in the air, a mixture of floral scents. Lily, jasmine, and rose. There was also another hidden scent, one which his nose detected, but could not identify. Whatever the case, the mixture of fragrances is intoxicating, and adds to her overall beauty.
He also noticed for the first time that she was wearing a bindi. A It is simple; but elegant, a red jewel, made to look like a ruby. It is ornamental and traditional, while adding an air of mystery, and a whole new layer of charm to her persona.
She spoke to him, her words interrupting his train of thought, and also breaking whatever spell that might've been cast upon him.
"Can I help you sir?" She politely inquired.
"Huh?"
"Are you ready to order?" She asked him this time raising her eyebrow.
He tried to hide his grimace as his mind ran abound. Did she notice him staring? Had he been that obvious? Noticing that his mouth had been agape, he closed it in embarrassment. He swallowed, and cursed his body when his Adam's Apple clicked noticeably.
"Yes. Thanks…. Uh…. May I have scrambled eggs, wheat toast, two sausages, and a glass of chocolate milk please?"
"Gotcha." She jotted his order on a small pad, and disappeared into the kitchen again.
She brought him his drink only a few seconds after disappearing into her culinary labyrinth, placing in on the counter without words, then immediately retreating back into the depths of the kitchen. Minutes past with little commotion, and finally she returned with his meal, offering a word of thanks, he began to eat at a hearty pace.
Richard tried to focus on his meal, but he found himself continuously drawn to the waitress. It was an obsession that he could not explain. Usually he was not so indirect when it came to women. He told a woman if he liked her, and that was the end of it. He approach was simple, and always straight-forward. Well that was the case in most instances anyways. With Starfire it had been different.
Shortly after they met, he developed a crush on her, and tried to nurture that crush into a relationship. It had started with the kiss they had shared, the one she had claimed was an innocent attempt at learning his language, and had never progressed past that point. He had tried to drop little hints, tried to approach the subject indirectly, but nothing had ever developed.
A few weeks ago, he resigned himself to give up trying. And he promised himself that he would not pursue a hopeless romantic endeavor again. That he would always be direct.
Then why was he acting this way now? He knew nothing of this woman, why would he be attracted to her so easily? She was a stranger. Only someone he met in passing, from one point to another. Yet there must be some logical basis for his fascination in her.
Looking at her again, as she spoke to an elderly couple that occupied a corner near the jukebox, he wondered what could be tugging at his mind so constantly, that demanded he focus his attention solely on her. Perhaps it was something of a subconscious matter? The human mind was an intricate thing, and the subconscious a devious part of that mind, a part that only hinted at things from the dark, allowing you to come to the realization of whatever information it possessed slowly and indirectly.
Based on that theory the wheels of his mind began to turn, trying to assess the hidden meaning of what his mind was trying to tell him. Perhaps his was focused on the girl too deeply. Maybe he wasn't supposed to focus on her intently, perhaps she was only associated with what his mind was trying to tell him. But how? Associated with what? With whom?
That was the question. And that was what was really tugging at his mind. Who did this girl remind him of? That question was broad, and could lead him to many answers. But Richard had always found that the simplest answer was usually the correct one.
She was not only a few feet to his left at the cash register, ringing up a bearded trucker for his breakfast, and smiling. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, the edge of his perception, and was gifted with the insight that he had been seeking, though it was not at all what he had expected.
