A/N: Yay new characters! Becki's still Jim, but now she's Angela too. And Shelbee is Pam. And this is chapter two.
Disclaimer: We still own nothing. Except Cesar, and we might have borrowed him from Gilmore Girls.
Angela was two hours into an eight hour shift and simply put, everything was going to hell. One of their coffee makers had broken and spewed coffee on the floor for twenty minutes until they figured out how to shut the damn thing off and they were completely out of provolone cheese, which everyone loved. So when an incredibly hot guy walked in and sat in Angela's section she felt the day starting to turn around. She had been single for far too long and was not above flirting with strangers if it meant she wouldn't end up spending another night alone at home watching old episodes of Skins. "Pam," Angela said, nudging the girl next to her. "Check out table six."
Table six was located right by the main windows in the front, positioned so Jim could see down the street in order to watch for Michael. The café had a nice atmosphere, he decided. And some really good-looking employees standing behind the counter. The blonde was cute, but Jim wasn't one to go for blondes exclusively (like Michael always did). The girl next to her was decidedly more attractive, though she was wearing less makeup and had her hair back in a ponytail. Maybe he would get lucky and she would be his waitress. Michael would be so jealous.
Pam purposely groaned a bit louder than intended, overreacting about Angela nudging her. "Ow, that hurt." But it didn't stop her from looking up and slowly finding table six. She grinned, but then quickly replaced it with a frown. Well, what the hell? She found it incredibly annoying that someone so attractive got seated in Angela's area. Pam had already had her share of creeps that threw compliments at her, that she dodged as quick as she could. Why couldn't she get the great side of karma? "No way, that is not fair." She replied, pointing towards table six which she realized was a bit noticeable and something she shouldn't be doing. She lowered her voice and turned towards Angela, narrowing her eyes. "Let me have table six. He's not even your type!"
"You don't even know my type," Angela retorted. Of course, that was entirely a lie since she had been friends with Pam since they started school and Angela generally went for the guys that had that tall, dark and handsome thing going on. The guy at table six had lighter hair and was more cute than brooding and mysterious. Really though, there wasn't anything wrong with it. She could break outside the box and try something new. It would be a Christmas present to herself. "That's my section, sorry. You're going to have to deal with your own customers." Like the guy with the bad hairpiece that hit on Pam at least two or three times a week.
"That's entirely unfair." She spoke quickly, her eyes narrowing even more to try and show Angela how serious she was. She grabbed the coffee pot, knowing table fifteen needed a refill, and not really wanting to head over there right away because the guy was kind of creepy. "Why won't you just let me have that table? Just until he's gone." She whispered, then slowly began backing up with a wide grin, "Let me have the bloke. Let me." She knew it probably wasn't going to work, and maybe Angela wouldn't let her have table six, just in spite of Pam wanting it so badly. It was like her.
"But look at him! He's so incredibly gorgeous," Angela said. When he walked in she just thought he was cute, but now that flirting with him was at stake his stock was going up a bit. Not to mention a tip. She was a bit behind on her Christmas shopping at the moment. Like, incredibly behind. She hadn't bought anything for her brother and sister yet and twelve year olds were very demanding. "I let you have that guy with the lip ring two days ago! So you don't need this table." Of course, that was because Angela had an inherent dislike of all facial piercings and avoided serving people with them at all costs. But that was beside the point. He had tipped very well, according to Pam.
"Yeah, I can see he's gorgeous. I'm not blind." She spoke through gritted teeth. People would have to be absolutely bonkers to not think he was gorgeous. "Yeah, but I didn't ask for him! You didn't want him because you hate the piercings. Everywhere. You hate them." Pam only had her ears pierced, so did Angela. Sometimes she liked to buy those fake piercings and wear them to work - Angela's reaction was an amusing thing to see. Scary, but amazing. Pam took a deep breath before shaking her head, "Fine. You go. Go ahead. Take his order. But if there's no 'click' which I know there won't be," Or she hoped to god, not. "Then I get him. Got it?" And with that, Pam forced herself to walk to table fifteen, with the old men who liked to come the same time every day. And asked for her personally. Which she didn't enjoy.
"Oh, we'll click, trust me," Angela said, grabbing a coffee cup and pot before heading over to his table. He really was rather attractive though, sadly, not exactly her type. Having a type probably made her shallow but that was fine by her. She was a predictable girl. "Hello," she said, setting the cup down on the table. "I'm Angela and I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with something to drink or some cream and sugar for the coffee?"
Angela was cute enough, Jim decided, but he still liked something about the other waitress more. Michael would probably like this girl, though. His thing for blondes usually held strong, even after several drinks. "The coffee's fine for now," Jim said. "Can I get a few minutes to order though?"
He was American! Angela didn't exactly have a thing for Americans but he really did have a great voice. "Not a problem," Angela said with a smile. "I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes." She smiled again, because that really seemed to help her tips (customers liked her less when she was bitchy), and headed back to the counter.
"Pam," Angela said, poking her again. "He's American!"
Pam frowned, purposely shoving her hip into Angela's. "Seriously? Really?" Pam did have a thing for Americans. Their accents were so clear, and different. She found them so different, and yet she couldn't even talk to this American who was also perfect, looks-wise. "I will give you my tips from table fifteen, if you let me have table six." Table fifteens old men always overtipped her. It was either that, or Pam was going to go over and take the American's order when Angela wasn't looking.
That was a good offer. That was a really good offer. The old guys practically threw money at Pam and really, Angela was definitely just doing this for the money. Especially since she had some serious shopping to do. But was that enough to turn over the American to Pam? It was a hard decision. "Look, let me think about it, okay? I told him I would be back there to take his order in a few minutes so I'll let you know." This was ridiculous, really. There was no reason to put this much thought into it. And if he was an American he was probably on vacation or something so it's not like she even had a shot with him. But it had been far too long since she had made out with anyone, and here was a sexy American right in front of her!
"Think about it? No! Then what will I have to do? Bring out the food and say goodbye? That's not even enough time to tell my name!" She then put on a straight face and did her best to speak in an American accent, "Uh thanks for the food, dude. Peace out." She shrugged her shoulders with wide eyes. "And then he'll tip me with American money and I won't even get to tell him my bloody name!" Pam wasn't too good with indoor voices, and she was immediately shot a dirty look by the boss. She had a problem with cursing, and she was pretty sure the only way she still had this job was because her parents were best mates with the owner.
"Okay, look at it this way. You have great tips! You'll have loads of cash and I'll get to have five minutes with a cute American boy. That's a fair trade, right?" The money actually sounded quite a bit better at this point but Pam always got interesting customers. Creeps, most of them, but it made for interesting stories. Angela always just got boring people who never did anything interesting at all and left only okay tips. Pam got weird customers and great tips. Really, she should get to keep this one all to herself, because he was an interesting customer and Pam had more than her fair share of those.
"It's not a fair trade." She muttered, glancing towards the adorable American guy and shaking her head angrily. "You're honestly the worst." She added quickly before lifting her head in a snobby-like fashion and stomping away - caring to the other tables who just were not as cute as he was. It was sad. Maybe he'd just tell Angela that Pam was hotter, and that he wanted her to be his waitress. But the likes of that happening were... none at all.
Angela checked her watch. It had definitely been enough time to take the cute guy's order. Pam had walked away already so her path to the American was clear. "So, have you decided yet?"
Jim looked up from the menu. Still the blonde waitress. Angela. "I think I'll just have a ham sandwich on rye, please," he said, closing the menu.
There was a please. The cute American boy had manners. Maybe he would tip well. Of course if he tipped in American money she would have to exchange it and it probably wouldn't end up being that great because pounds were worth more… or were American dollars worth more? She had no idea. But either way, he was cute and nice. He was a win in her book, even if he wasn't all mysterious. Pam always said she had a vampire complex. That was ridiculous. Vampires. "I'll be back with your sandwich right away," she said, smiling again. It was all about the smiles. Pam hadn't quite figured that one out yet, in Angela's opinion.
Pam watched from a few tables back, she was cleaning - or half cleaning. And she could see Angela's little smile from where she was. Well, obviously since she was only a few tables away. Pam straightened up, a hint of jealousy on her features. Or a lot of jealousy. She made her way over to Angela. "You're a twat," she coughed out (the ultimate way to insult someone) all the while shoving her out of the way. Maybe this way the American would think that Angela was in fact, a twat, and not even tip her.
"That's really adorable," Angela said, passing Pam and bumping her into the counter with her hip. "You know, I bet loads of boys love that kind of language. Remind me again, how are you single?" Of course Angela couldn't really talk since she hadn't dated anyone since she dumped that awful Brad nearly six months ago, but still. It was lucky Pam had gotten this job by her family connections because otherwise she would've been fired when they started working there back in college. "If you want the table so badly, you can take him his food. He ordered a turkey sandwich on wheat." She really hoped Pam hadn't heard her take his order because screwing over Pam was a lot of fun.
"How am I single?" She brought her hands up, as if to say she just really didn't know. "Blokes knocking on my door, and I'm just kicking them down. I'm too classy for a boyfriend, it's pretty much a known fact." So maybe Pam had been single for the longest time, ever. But that's cause guys didn't understand her. "You'll let me bring him his food? Seriously?" Turkey on wheat? Turkey was good. Wheat bread was alright. She preferred pumpernickel or rye. But this wasn't her sandwich. She then slowly narrowed her eyes, "You know what? I don't know if I can believe you. Just a second ago you weren't letting me get to him at all." She decided against thinking Angela was doing something horrible, and instead placed the order. Sandwiches were quick, which meant she'd get to speak to him in a matter of minutes. "Oh, he's gonna forget about your face when he says mine!" She sang quietly, running her fingers down her cheek as if she was looking the best she ever had.
"Right, make excuses!" Angela said, pouring herself a cappuccino. Technically they weren't supposed to do that but she never had a problem with it. Who was going to know? It was just water and flavoring, really. And loads of whipped cream. And occasionally chocolate shavings when she was feeling a bit more motivated. "And you really should believe it," she said, taking a sip of cappuccino. That was good. She made good cappuccino. Pam was rather crap at it. She also did a half-assed job all the time so maybe that was why. "I really doubt that," Angela said as Cesar pushed the sandwich through the window. "Well, go on. Take him his sandwich. You wanted to talk to him, didn't you?"
Pam knew she should probably be checking on the other tables but she was waiting for the sandwich to be made. "You know, I could tell Cesar you're making cappuccino again. It'd be payback since you told him when I made myself cocoa." That wasn't a funny time, not at all. She immediately turned around and snatched the plate, "Yes, I do. I'll be back. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll run off with him to America." She shrugged. "Anything's possible." She turned around, trying to keep the grin off her face as she made her way to the cute American. She slowly placed the plate down in front of him with a small smile. She wasn't really one to smile at people. Angela did it. It was creepy, and unneeded. "Hi, um." She stumbled slightly, did she say her name, or explain herself or something? "Here you are." Yeah, that worked.
"Cesar loves me though!" Angela called, watching Pam walk away. She wished she had some magical device that could make her hear things from across the room. This could get good.
"Thanks," Jim said. This waitress was different. The cute waitress. Not that Angela wasn't, but this girl was more… something. Angela had seemed kind of fake in the way that all waitresses seem fake. Full of smiles and 'what can I get you' and all of that. This girl just kind of plopped down the sandwich, did something that might have been a smile but looked more like a smirk. She was about to walk away when Jim looked down at the sandwich and noticed something. "Excuse me? Sorry, but I think this is wheat bread. I ordered it on rye." Something else was weird, too. "And ham, not turkey." He always kind of felt like an ass when he complained in restaurants and jumped to apologies right away (his mom was big on manners) but the sandwich was just completely wrong. Probably not her fault. Until thirty seconds ago he'd had a different waitress.
Pam slowly turned back around as he spoke. Oh, here it was. He was going to ask for her number, or maybe for her to sit with him. She'd do it. Oh, she definitely would take that invitation. But no. It wasn't that. She felt her face immediately heat up, slowly turning to glare at Angela before looking back at the guy in front of her. "Oh, um, actually. Uh... that... that's... for this guy. This guy over here." She grabbed the plate again. "Over in the way back. So, sorry... thought... I, um, thought you were someone else. So I'll just." She waved her hand towards the back, but instead of following it, she made her way back to the counter, slamming the plate in front of Angela. "Really? I just… really?" She had never been more embarrassed. And this was so on purpose. Angela never forgot orders. That was Pam.
"Maybe next time you won't call me a twat. Now, should I give him the real sandwich or should I give you another chance?" She tapped her chin, pretending to contemplate this while really thinking of how much she could get Pam to do for her in order to get another chance with the American. Since she had embarrassed herself completely in front of him, maybe she would be less likely to jump at another chance. But knowing Pam, she wanted to redeem herself. "Cesar, I need a ham on rye," Angela called through the window. "I guess you can give him the sandwich."
"I'd say you'll give me another bleeding chance, because that wasn't funny at all. You know I hate that..." Getting orders wrong was so embarrassing, and Pam hated being embarrassed. It was the worst feeling in the world. Pam balanced herself on her tip toes, then back to the heels of her feet - switching between the two, trying to decide on redeeming herself, or giving up completely. She was silent, well, for a few seconds. "I'll do it." She quickly grabbed for the plate once it was finished, gave Angela a challenging look and then walking, slowly because she was still covering up from the embarrassment - and then placing the sandwich in front of him. "So, this one is yours. I… apologize for that. Angela likes to embarrass people..."
"It's okay," Jim said, looking at the sandwich. It looked perfect. "So are you my waitress now? Not that I'll need anything else, but you never know." It wasn't like he was going to try to get her number or anything. He wasn't that desperate and he'd only been in the country like an hour. He wasn't Michael. Still, he was just sitting there alone. A little conversation wouldn't hurt.
"Um..." Pam looked over towards Angela. Technically, the only thing Angela had told her to do was bring the sandwich over. She didn't say that Pam could be his waitress. But then again, why did she care what Angela had said? "Yes, I guess I am." She looked back to him and smiled slightly, then realized she should probably give him her name. "Oh! I'm Pam." She pointed towards the name on her shirt which she then realized wasn't there. She always forgot the pin at home. "Well… yeah, it's still Pam. I don't… know where that went."
"Nice to meet you, Pam," he said with a smile. "I'm Jim."
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