Taking Beau to breakfast on Saturday mornings has become a tradition of mine. Since Dad starts work super early, I have no other choice. It’s not like I can let my little brother starve. Andif the only other option is to actuallycook, then diners here we come.
“Are we going to a new restaurant every time?” Beau asks as we walk up toMama & Mimi’s, the place we’re eating today. It’s a cozy-looking maroon building with white stripes on the awning. There’s writing on the window, advertising a free slice of cake when you order the special.
“No harm in trying new things,” I tell him. Since moving to the city, we’ve been to a total of twelve new restaurants, with no repeat visits yet.
He scoffs. “What, you mean like the play? You literally tryone new thingand suddenly you’re an expert?”
“That’s right!” We make our way through the entrance to the restaurant. Checkered tile covers most of the entryway, leading to the kitchen on the left, and the dining area is on the right, separated by wood floors. The majority of the walls on the dining side are windows, but near the kitchen, an eclectic assortment of wall hangings cover teal and purple accent walls.
There’s an elderly couple in front of us with two teenagers and a younger kid. The host returns to the podium to take the couple’s names down, and instantly, I recognize his lean frame, his undercut and dreads that match his older brother’s. “Lenny?”
Lenny searches around and then looks up. When he sees me, he beams. “Hey, Dot!”
Beau glances back and forth between the two of us. “You know the host? How? We just moved here!”
“Come on over, I’ll seat you,” says Lenny. “We have a table for two available against the window.”
I nudge Beau forward. He sighs deeply, like I’ve just asked him to run a marathon. I take the lead and we follow Lenny to a small table near—as promised—the front window overlooking the downtown strip. I sidestep a waitress holding a hot pot ofcoffee and sit across from Beau. Lenny places two laminated menus on the table. The person sitting behind Beau hums delightfully as he crunches a slice of bacon into his mouth.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” I tell Lenny.
“It gets better,” he says. “I’ll tell Zayne that he’ll be your server today.”
I blink several times. “What?Zayne works here, too?” And then I realize what he just said. That he’s going to make Zayne be our server. “Wait! You don’t have to?—”
Lenny holds up a hand like he’s doing me a favor or something. “I’ll personally make sure of it.” Then he bows until his face is parallel to the ground before returning to his podium.
“You know,” I tell Beau, “maybe you were right about the harm in trying new things after all.”
He picks up his menu from the table. “You should really start listening to me.” He looks over the breakfast items on the page. “What are you going to order?”
Food. Right. I pick up my menu, too. “Uh, probably pancakes.” And then I see the type of pancakes they have. Blueberry banana and cream cakes. “Did I say maybe? I meant definitely.”
“Actually, I’ll take your drink orders first.” It’s not Beau’s voice that says it, though, and I glance up to find Zayne standing next to us wearing a deep purple apron, notebook and pen in hand.
“Zayne,” I mutter by way of greeting.
“Dot.”
The events of what happened yesterday at school play behind my vision, and by the look Zayne is giving me, I think he might be remembering, too.
Beau glances back and forth between the two of us. “Am I missing something?”
Zayne narrows his eyes at me. “I was thinking the same thing. Last time I checked, it’s hard to stay away from someone if they keep following you.”
“I’ll take a diet soda,” says Beau slowly. “And Dot will take an iced tea. Right, Dot?”
I scoff. “I amnotfollowing you. I didn’t even know you worked here.”
“Right. I’ll be back with your drinks.” He turns and walks away before I can protest, leaving me flustered in my seat.
Beau’s eyes widen. “What was that all about?”
“Thatis what happens when you give someone the benefit of doubt for a tiny second. He’s unbearable.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Beau holds up his hands, like I’m a caged lion trying to escape. “You’re going to have to fill me in. I don’t even know this dude. Why are you so angry at him?”
I lean over the table to keep anyone else from hearing. I’m not sure why I even bother, considering Little Birdie has made it her new mission to create a public display of my life. In fact, I can’t help but worry that Little Birdie is somehow watching me right now. I resist the urge to check over my shoulder. “He’sthe reason Carlton and I are having problems.”
