"Order up."
I turn on my heel and make my way to the counter that separates the kitchen and the diner. I've got three hours left on my shift but it feels like I've been here for an eternity already. I'm still trying to get used to the long hours on my feet but this was one of the only jobs I could find in town that didn't require a college degree or a pole.
"Benny!" I try and say it loudly but it kind of comes out as a croak. I guess you can say I haven't really been here long enough to be able to yell at the cooks. Or maybe I'm just shy and stupid like everyone at the dinner says I am. "I said no tomato." He's making his way across the kitchen. His dirty white tennis shoes squeak as he waddles his way over on the linoleum floor.
Benny is usually the cook I end up working with and he's usually the one that makes me the most uncomfortable. He's loud, fat, boisterous and always speaking his mind. He's the kind of guy that has to voice every little mistake you make but if he makes one and you point it out, he's got to twist it back around on you so the mistake was your fault. In Benny's mind, Benny can do no wrong.
"Tell 'em ta pick it off." He's standing right in front of me but he's yelling at me like I'm across the room. It makes me want to flinch away from him but I had learned better during the first shift I had ever taken with Benny.
You don't shy away from Benny, or Benny just gets tougher on you.
"I can't tell 'em to pick it off, Benny. You know that's not how it works." I put my hands on the counter between us and try to give him my most stern stare. The only other girl in the diner that talks to me keeps telling me I have to be firm with him or he'll never lighten up. So far, it hasn't worked.
"Then you pick it off. See if I give a shit." He leans over the counter to laugh in my face. His breath smells like onions and stale beer. Lovely.
When he's got his back turned, I take a quick peek over my shoulder to see if the customers are watching. I don't really care if the girl that ordered this cheeseburger doesn't want tomato but the last thing I do want is a customer having an allergic reaction in the middle of the diner.
She was a snotty bitch when she ordered the damn thing anyway.
When I'm sure no one's watching, I lift the top bun off the cheeseburger and quickly grab the tomato. Hopefully she can't taste any tomato juice that has seeped out. I put the bun back on and make it look as natural as possible before I pick it up and turn around.
"Hey, Audrey." I try not to roll my eyes when I turn around. Bethany, Beth for short. She's the worst type of girl and I just so happen to be working tonight's shift with her. I don't turn around to look at her but I pause so she knows I'm listening. Otherwise she'll be screaming my name for the next five minutes.
"If you don't want that guy in your section, I'll take him."
I have no idea what she's talking about but if it involves a customer, there's no way in hell she's stealing one from me. I shoot her a look over my shoulder as my answer and continue on to my table. The girl that ordered the cheeseburger doesn't deserve a word from me so I just set the plate down in front of her and turn to look at the rest of my tables.
I know for sure when I see him. He's the only one that could have caught Bethany's attention. And it's hard not to let him get my attention, too. He's just sitting there, with this air of arrogance and carelessness. Of my two months in the small town of Sucrets, I had never seen anything like him. Sure, I'd seen plenty of his kind in Chicago where gangs and thugs were common, but Sucrets was a nice family place where thugs and gang members didn't exist.
As I approached him, I tried to take a deep breath. My mind was trying to show me memories from two months ago but I pushed them back as hard as I could. I couldn't let it get in the way of my job. Besides, I told myself, he's probably just a wanna-be gang member.
When I finally stopped in front of his booth and took another deep breath, the smell of leather assaulted my nose. It was such a distinct smell and it was so rare around here that I couldn't help but take another deep breath. My Uncle Andrew had worn leather all the time and the smell of it reminded me of good childhood memories.
The clearing of the stranger's throat brought me back to reality and I could feel a deep blush rising up onto my cheeks.
"R-right, what can I-I get you?" I hadn't stuttered since I was little. It had just been one of those freak things that happened every once in a while. It wasn't a family thing. No one else in my family had even had a problem when they were learning to talk. But me, I just had to be different.
"Cup of coffee." His eyes were dangerously dark, I decided. Almost so brown that if you didn't look close enough, you could mistake them for black. They didn't seem to have any depth in them either. I'd always heard people say that the eyes were the window to the soul. You were supposed to be able to see people's emotions or at least be able to guess what they were feeling. But with this stranger, it just wasn't true. His eyes seemed to almost be the opposite. His eyes looked right into everybody else's soul, whether they wanted him to see their soul or not.
"Cream and sugar?" I thanked my lucky stars that this time I didn't stutter but I didn't seem to be getting rid of my blush anytime soon either.
"No." His answer was curt and almost sour. I almost flinched back physically from the cold reply but caught myself just in time. I sent a small nod his way and started towards the counter.
"He scares you, I can tell." Beth is back and right on my heels as I make my way towards the coffee pot on the counter by the kitchen window. I should have known she wouldn't leave me alone about him.
"He's in my section. He's mine. I get his tip and I'll ring him up." My curt reply is hardly believable. It sounds week and washed out. These days it seems like I'll never be strong again, not after what happened. I can't even say a word that sounds strong, let alone a sentence.
"Fine."
When I look in her direction, she's flipping her pony-tail and sending a coy smile in the direction of my customer, like she thinks if he thinks she's pretty he might request her to be his waitress instead. I let my eyes drift towards him to see his reaction. He isn't even staring at her. In fact, he's staring at me and when I realize it my blush deepens again and I dump the pot of hot coffee all over my dress and white tennis shoes.
"Shit!" I scream, probably more loudly than I intended but it hurts like a mother. The fabric doesn't take away any of the pain the scalding liquid causes. It just makes it worse as the cotton starts to soak it up permanently. I squeeze my eyes closed and wait with baited breath for the searing pain to lessen and when it does, I crack one eye open. I can't even imagine what a klutz I look like right now.
Just as I expected, the whole diner is staring at me, some with raised eyebrows, some shaking their heads, and others looking at me with pity. I don't even dare take a look at the stranger in my section as I head towards the bathroom to clean myself.
"Well, I guess I'll make a new pot of coffee and take it over to him," Beth tells me as I pass her. She had that self satisfied look on her face and I realized that if she had worn that smile a year ago, when I had actually been a strong girl with a big attitude, I would have slapped it off her face. But this new me, this timid me, has no desire for a confrontation, no desire to stick up for herself. I can't even really glare at her.
When I finally get to the bathroom and lock the door, I let myself fall against the door with a deep sigh. I could probably ask myself how I got here or stare thoughtfully into my own eyes at the mirror to see how much I've changed but that's stupid and cliché. I don't need to look into my own eyes to know what's changed. I already know I have wrinkles on my face that shouldn't be there on a girl my age. I already know that a deep brown liquid is staining my bright orange dress and white apron.
I reach for the towel dispenser on my right, next to the sink, and drag a couple out to pat down any extra coffee on my dress. I don't have a second one to change into so I'm going to have to wear it for the next three hours. The only upside is that it's not pop and it's not making my whole dress stick to me.
When I finally get out of the bathroom, Beth is still trying to chat up my stranger who looks like he could give two shits less about what she has to say, but she's not giving up. She's actually leaning on the back of his booth, her breasts practically shoved into his face. I shake my head in disgust at her but don't say anything to let her know I'm out of the bathroom.
"I love your leather jacket," I hear her saying as I go back to the table with the girl and the cheeseburger.
"Everything alright for you guys?" I ask them as sweetly as I can. Even though she really didn't deserve any kind of good attitude I send her way, I really need the tip.
"I need another coke," the girl says snottily. "And try not to spill it."
That's exactly what I think about doing as I pick up her half full glass. I could just say I slipped or something. But I don't. Because I don't have the balls and I need this job. I can't keep letting Warren pay for everything. His money can only go towards so much and I know his apartment costs a fortune.
"Hey," I don't recognize the voice so I don't stop to see who it is. "Hey!" I hear again, louder this time. I can't help but stop this time and take a look around me. I can't leave a customer waiting if I want to get a good tip.
When my eyes fall on Beth, standing at the stranger's table, she's glaring at me with her hand on her hip. It's then I realize that it's the stranger calling me over and she's not happy about the fact that she can't seem to keep his attention.
I nearly trip and fall on my face as I make my way over to the table and my face goes red again. There's something about this guy that makes me clumsier than usual. It's probably his incredibly good looks and that deep, dark stare of his. But I try not to think about it too much.
"D-did you need s-something?" My stutter is back and I want to kick myself.
"A new cup of coffee. This one tastes like piss." His voice is deep and gravely. This is probably the longest sentence I've heard him utter. It makes me go weak in the knees.
"There must be something wrong with the coffee maker," Beth tries to explain herself but the stranger still looks like he's not listening. Beth just can't seem to catch a break. Or a hint.
"I'll make a new pot and get it over to you," I tell him slowly, taking a side long glance at Beth. Who screws up a pot of coffee? I mean, seriously!
It takes all of about five minutes for me to get it finished and I slowly and carefully set the steaming cup down in front of him. When it reaches the table safely I think about singing hallelujah. When I look up, I realize Beth is gone. I guess she could take a hint after all.
"Anything else?"
He's giving me a stare, a stare that says he's analyzing me from top to bottom, and I almost die right there.
"You're name," he says lowly.
So if I didn't almost die before, I'm definitely dying now. Or at least it feels like it.
I can't speak. I can barely open my mouth. It's in that moment that everything comes rushing back to me. It's probably because he reminds me so much of a gangster, probably because his deep voice just screams danger.
It just all comes back in one big tidal wave. The memories just wash over me.
The black masks. The low voices. The screams. The cool metal on my back. And then the complete and utter sense of pain, both physical and emotional.
In the present, my stomach is burning, and not from the coffee that just got spilled on it. The inside is burning, screaming at me.
And then I'm hyperventilating, my breaths are coming in quick, short gasps. I'm getting way too much oxygen for my own good but I can't help it. It's no longer just my stomach that is on fire but my lungs as well. I'm dying. I swear. But no, I'm not, because I know what dying feels like and it's not this. It's just not this.
He's staring at me. He's just staring at me as I basically have a panic attack in front of him. And is that a malicious glint I see in his eyes? Is he enjoying this? No. No, I'm imagining this. I'm not in the right state of mind, not at all.
But he's still just staring at me. He's not panicking. He's not doing anything. He's just sitting there, like nothing is happening. What is wrong with this guy? What's wrong with me? Why can't I just get it together? Why can't I just leave all of this behind me? Why can't I just start a new life with my brother like I so desperately want to?
Someone's sitting me down, sitting me in the same booth as the stranger. I can faintly hear someone tell me to calm down, to just calm down. But my breathing is too loud in my ears and my blood is rushing at the speed of light.
"Call her brother," I hear someone say loudly, as if they're screaming. Everyone else is panicking. I try not to look at them. They're just going to make me freak out more. And all the while those images are still rushing around my head, those feelings are still crushing me with their weight. And I still can't breathe. Hot tears rush down my checks and I clutch at my chest.
Please, I want to say, someone help me breathe!
"Audrey!" A familiar voice. Thank God!
"Audrey, I'm here! I'm here now. Calm down. It's going to be alright!" I'm being lifted into strong arms and then I'm looking up into familiar blue eyes. His blue eyes are surrounded by worry and suddenly I'm feeling sorry that I'm worrying my brother again and keeping him from work. Again.
"Why, Audrey?" He says to me later, after I've finally calmed down. "You know where he could have come from. You know why he could have been here. Why didn't you just walk away? He reminded you of them, didn't he? What if he is one? What have you done, Audrey?"
And I go into my second panic attack of the day.