A/N: Song for this chapter: "Just One Look" - Doris Troy (1963)
Chapter Two
"Raoul," Christine Daae said with disdain while filling two glasses with ice, then cola. "What kind of name is that?"
Her only friend, Meg Giry, shrugged absently and flipped the page of her magazine. "Not one you want to be screaming in the middle of the night, that's for damn sure."
Christine gasped and nearly spilled one of the drinks, thankfully catching the glass before it had a chance to tip over onto the countertop. She sheepishly glanced around the diner, searching the faces of their patrons for any indication of if they heard what Meg had said. Each one seemed blissfully unaware which calmed her racing heart and set her mind at ease. The last thing they needed was another complaint about Meg's lewd comments. Not that her mother ever acknowledged them anyways; she would rather lose business than reprove her daughter's behavior.
"The customers, Meg," she warned under her breath, accompanying it with a vexing glare before bringing the beverages to a young couple at the end of the bar. She offered them a warm smile and ensured they were all squared away before returning to her friend.
"Don't even start with that," Meg complained, slamming her magazine closed, rolling it up, and placing it beneath the counter. She pulled down the burger and fries that had just been placed in the service window and thumbed through her order receipts. "Most of them are so old they can't even hear me when I'm sitting right next to them."
"And what of the folks who can hear you? Besides, I don't want to know what you do behind closed doors. It makes me feel dirty even thinking about it."
Meg mumbled incoherently as her fingers trailed over the order on one of the receipts before she sighed and gestured to the plate of food. "This was for Bill right?"
Irritated, Christine snatched up the plate and started down the bar. It frustrated her that Meg couldn't even remember the simplest of orders, or what customers who frequented Annie's for years ate on a daily basis. Christine had only been a server there for a year and she knew just about everyone's orders as well as their food allergies, while Meg never bothered to do so. According to her, she found her time was much better spent chatting up the men that came in by themselves or reading about the newest fashions.
"Here you are, Bill," she said kindly, setting the plate in front of a solitary elderly man. "Can I get you another coke?"
"Not today." He smiled. "Thank you, dear."
Christine returned the gesture and left him to his meal, collecting a few soiled cups on her way back towards Meg. She placed them in the washing bin below the counter and muttered, "It would be nice if you cleared some dishes instead of bragging about your indecency."
"You are such a prude," Meg grumbled, rolling her eyes and leaning against the counter. "Maybe if you actually gave someone a chance, my indecency wouldn't bother you so much."
"Not happening," Christine asserted as she drummed her fingers on the tabletop impatiently. She prayed to God that the food for table twelve would be placed in the window so she could have an excuse to avoid conversing about her dating life; or lack thereof.
It wasn't that she didn't want a boyfriend, no, not at all. The idea of being swept off her feet was always in her mind, but none of the men that gave her the time of day made her heart flutter like the ones in her books. Though, even if one did, there was the matter of getting her father to extend his approval, which was near impossible. So, she decided it best to avoid all topics broaching men and act indifferent to any advances to save herself the trouble.
"I wouldn't touch any man, living or dead, with a ten-foot pole."
"That's whatcha say now." Meg picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her baby blue uniform-dress, a sly smile forming on her lips. "What's gonna happen when you fall madly in love with Raoul?"
The seductive tone behind the use of his name made Christine's stomach churn and she scrunched up her nose, trying not to imagine herself actually interested in that imbecile. The Sunday before was a nightmare and she wasn't looking forward to spending any more time with him, let alone fall in love with him! Her only hope was that she wasn't made to go on any dates with him. Being forced to listen to his idiocy in the presence of others was enough as it is, she didn't want to have to endure it alone. What her father saw in that bonehead was a mystery.
"I don't want to think about it," she said, absently toying with a napkin dispenser.
"Oh, come on, Christine!" Meg hissed as she snatched away the dispenser and tossed it onto the counter next to her. "Someone has to catch your eye eventually!"
Christine dropped her gaze to the floor and frowned, realizing that her friend wasn't going to give up so easily. One thing about Meg was that her persistence was disconcerting and there wasn't a single thing that went over her head. Unfortunately, that meant that no matter how many times someone attempted to thwart her prying questions, she would try again and again until she got what she wanted.
Sighing dejectedly, Christine whispered, "It wouldn't matter anyways. My father expects me to marry within our church."
"What about Richard? He's in your church, isn't he?"
"Never!" Christine cried, laughter bubbling up inside her. "Oh, he gives me the creeps!"
Suddenly, Meg slapped her hand over her mouth and dropped to the floor, body shaking as she flicked her eyes towards the seating area.
Not again, Christine thought as her eyes connected with that of the man they were speaking of. He had taken up residence in a booth in her section, one that faced directly towards her. It was strange how he always seemed to show up when they were talking about him.
His name was Richard Firman, a devout member of her church, once divorced due to infidelity on part of his wife. It would be a lie to say she didn't hold any pity for the man, seeing as his marriage of nearly five years ended so tragically, but she couldn't see herself marrying him out of condolence. While he was attractive according to conventional means, he was much older than her, ten years her senior, and something about him made her feel uneasy. Whether it was the way he never blinked, or the fact that she ran into him just about everywhere she went, she did not know, but she was thankful that her father had no interest in him.
"I didn't even see him come in this time. Does he ever give up?" she whispered, tearing her eyes away from him and putting on a cheerful façade. "You would think the shift change would have thrown him off for a while longer."
Meg took a deep, steadying breath and righted herself, carefully dabbing the moisture from her eyes so as to not smudge her liner. "Would you like me to serve him this time?"
Christine chewed on her bottom lip, debating on if she should sacrifice a hefty tip to avoid being asked out again, but decided that it was worth the few minutes of torture for a little extra cash. So, she shook her head and muttered, "No, we always get a bigger tip if it's me."
"Suit yourself," Meg mumbled, starting the sorting of their freshly washed silverware into their respective bins.
With a menu in hand, Christine walked over to Richard's booth and slid it across the table with an ingenuine smile, doing her best to keep any distaste from her expression. He beamed, completely oblivious to the fact that she would rather be anywhere else, and pushed it back towards her.
"I already know what I want," he said, his eyes boring into hers as his voice sent a repulsive shiver up her spine. "Just a piece of mint pie."
"I'll get that right out for you."
"Thank you, Christine," her name rolling off his tongue in the most vile way.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and hurried back behind the counter, taking practiced breaths to stop herself from becoming ill. She couldn't get sick, not when she was scheduled to perform in a short time. In an effort to get her interaction with Richard over as soon as she could, she quickly opened the pie case and plated a single piece of mint pie, nearly dropping it when Meg grabbed her arm.
"Meg, be careful!"
"Mint pie?" She feigned a gag. "Only psychopaths eat mint pie."
"God, did you hear how he said my name?" Christine asked, keeping her voice as low as possible. "Makes my skin crawl."
Meg giggled and emulated, "Christine."
Rolling her eyes, Christine shook her arm free, grabbed a clean fork and reluctantly returned to Richard. She set the pie and fork in front of him before asking, "Anything else I can get for you?"
He exhaled shakily and swallowed hard, saying, "No, I mean, yes. I–I have been meaning to ask if you changed your mind about that date. There is a new movie playing tomorrow and I would love for you to accompany me."
"Oh, I–I actually have–" Christine's pulse skyrocketed and she fought hard to keep her breath steady. "As much fun as it sounds, I–I've heard of the movie and it's not really my thing."
"We don't have to see a movie," he suggested with a hopeful look. "There's dancing or a walk in the park."
Oh, Heavens, she thought. What was she to do?
"Listen, Richard, I can't," she said, twisting her hands atop her apron. "I work tomorrow."
"The club down the street doesn't close until midnight."
Christine laughed uncomfortably and gave an uneasy smile, wiping her perspired palms on her skirts. It was a mistake to not allow Meg to serve him, she was far too inelegant in trying to keep herself calm.
"No," she said, doing her best to keep her voice firm. "I can't go out with you, Richard. I'm sorry."
His gaze dropped to his pie, his brow furrowing as he scooped some onto his fork, then he looked up at her and popped it in his mouth. He smiled as he chewed and said, "Alright, maybe next time then."
"Enjoy your pie," Christine shakily muttered before making her escape and finding Meg in the kitchen. She grabbed her friend's arm and spun her around. "I can't wait on him any longer, Meg. He asked me out to the movies! To see that one with the woman trapped in the cellar!"
"You said no, right?"
"Of course!" Christine said, peeking through the service window to make sure he hadn't moved any closer. Thankfully, he was happily eating, oblivious to her watchful eye. "If I had said yes, I would end up just like her!"
Just then, the door in the back of the kitchen swung open and Annette Giry, Annie as she preferred, emerged holding a small sheet of paper.
"Christine, just who I needed," she said, holding the paper out. "Here are the song selections for tonight. Go on and get ready, you only have a few minutes. Meg and Charlotte will finish up your tables."
"Thank you." Christine took the list and stuffed it into her apron pocket before turning back towards Meg. "You got Richard?"
Her friend made a face of revulsion, but nodded, saying, "I suppose I do. Let's hope he doesn't try to steal you away when you're up on the stage."
"I will hold you personally responsible if he does," Christine teased, knowing that Richard wouldn't do such a thing. Or, at least, she hoped he wouldn't. "I'll go get warmed up, don't forget to bring table twelve their food and be sure to pay attention to the door. We don't want people waiting too long to be served."
"I won't let you down," Meg assured her, glancing over Christine's shoulder. "Look at that, I'm doing good already. Two more folks just walked in."
Christine's eyes followed her as she greeted the guests and took them to a table, the first sliding into one side of the booth, his eyes glued to Meg. The second one mirrored his friend and settled onto the bench before folding his hands in front of him. His back was to her, but when he acknowledged Meg, Christine could have sworn she saw something on his face. A mask?
A strange sensation came over Christine at the sight of him, though it wasn't a bad feeling. There was no pit in her stomach, no twisting in her throat, no sense of dread. It was something pleasant, something warm and inviting, something that made her heart flutter and God, she never wanted it to go away.
/
A/N: Disclosure: I am a fiend for mint flavored treats. Make of that what you will ;)
