"Here you go, folks." Belle approached the table of customers with a smile on her face. "Hotcakes for the lady and the Lucky Diner special for you, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"Yeah, how about an extra biscuit for the wait?" He adjusted his hat and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry about that sir. I'll go grab you one, is there anything else?" Belle bit her lip. The plates had been out of there in about ten minutes flat.
He gave her a wave of his hand as if to notion that she was no longer needed. She walked back into the kitchen and exhaled heavily, rubbing the tension lines on her forehead. "Hey, Robby, can I get an extra biscuit please, some guy's being an asshole at table six and doesn't want to pay the extra seventy-five cents."
The older man smiled and nodded, "So I hear you're leaving?"
She nodded and couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, tomorrow's my last day. I'm moving out to California on Saturday, I got into UCLA."
He handed her the biscuit on a small, white plate. "Well congratulations, missy, I have faith that you'll make us all proud. Good to know you're getting out of this little place."
Belle Black was finally getting out of Fairview, Kansas, a town of roughly 250 people, and trying her hand at the massively populated Southern California. After high school, she attended community college in order to save up money for her four-lettered dream school-UCLA, she knew out-of-state tuition was horrible and vowed to leave at the first opportunity—and leave the small town and her nametag behind. The thoughts were running nonstop through her head: Disneyland, Rodeo Drive, The Playboy Mansion, The Getty Museum, The Hollywood Walk of Fame, Venice Beach, Beverly Hills, God, she couldn't wait to leave.
Belle smiled and shrugged. "Thanks, Robby."
She walked out into the restaurant, grabbing a pot of coffee on her way. She gave the stingy man his god-damned biscuit, and refilled their mugs. "Thank you so much, folks, you have yourselves a great day." She placed the check facedown on the edge of the table and took her leave.
If she calculated right, fifteen percent of twenty-two dollars was about three dollars and fifty cents. That's one thing she wouldn't miss, people in Fairview definitely did not concern themselves with generous tipping. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the couple get up and leave. She walked back over to the table. Twenty-five dollars. Shit.
Flesh Canvas – 1