One of my podcast days. “Is he alright?”
“Didn’t get too many details. Hope so.” Cliff shrugs. “I’d ask Marlene, but I don’t see her this morning.”
“Marlene. That the blonde you’re always chatting up?”
He gives me a dirty look. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ox.”
He knows—but I won’t push.
The new waitress, a real upgrade around here, reappears with our drinks loaded on a round tray. Even with the blasted thing in the way, her figure is mesmerizing.
She stops at my end of the table. Perfume floats on the breeze as she distributes the drinks.Sweet.And maybe a little bit spicy.
Tucking the empty tray beneath her arm, she lifts a pad and pen. “Have you guys decided?”
She starts with Crawford across from me and works in a clockwise direction, leaving me for last.
“And you, sir?”
My throat goes dry, my brain hung up on the intrusive thought that her porcelain skin looks like it would be silky to the touch. I shift my focal point—only to find eyes as blue as the Hawaiian bay our family vacationed along the summer I graduated high school. The trip was Dad’s gift forfinishing the job. That’s what he said, because that’s how Dad’s mind works. Do the work, finish on time, reap the reward.
I could lie on a sandy beach with this lady by my side.
Crawford coughs, mumbling.
Cliff’s throat makes a clearing sound and he bumps my elbow. “What’s your order, kid?”
What the…
My face begins to feel like someone flipped a burner on. “Double cheeseburger, fries, and a bowl of today’s soup.” Crud, I hope it’s something I like. Shoulda asked. “And a dinner salad with Italian. Please.”
The waitress spins, only not in time for me to miss a distinct roll of her eyes. She takes sharp steps toward the kitchen.
Cliff swipes a hand over a chuckle, Crawford smirks, and Mike shoots me a nasty glare. “Real subtle there, Knox.”
“What are you talking about?” But I fear I know.
“Gawking at the lady like that.” He shakes his shaggy hair. “And you’re supposed to be the one withclass.” There’s a sarcastic jab loaded into the word.
Crawford taps the corner of his mouth. “Got a little drool there, man.”
Instinctively, I touch my mouth. Dry. “I didn’t…” The lost seconds while the waitress was at the table return in a flash. Oh no. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Cliff sputters, wincing and laughing at once. “Worse than bad, kid.”
Cliff is generally on my team, so the fact that he’s siding with the riffraff on this one means I’m probably not going to be showing my face around these parts again.
Great. I see many podcast days in my future.
Conversation stalls as all of us wrap our hands around steaming coffee mugs. The day is shaping up to be another long one. Worse, evenings around here don’t hold much to look forward to either. An empty, two-bit motel room and a television. That’s all I got waiting on me. At home, at least I’d have a blazing fireplace and Dozer snuggled at my side.
I release a small measure of my frustration with a long breath. Darned dog isn’t going to know me by the time this job wraps. Mom is spoiling her rotten, I know it. She’ll never want to come home to me.
She’s not the only one.
“What’s that?”
Cliff’s brow pinches as he watches me through the steam above his cup.
