CHAPTER NINETEEN
I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose both my pinkie toes after today. Regardless of how comfortable your shoes look, they all hurt after six hours on your feet. I'm not sure what’s worse — only having eight toes after I finish my first shift at Bonnie’s Café or the possibility I may have to buy a pair of those ugly lunch lady shoes.
I limp behind the black counter with my empty coffee pot in hand and start the task of making a fresh batch. In order to keep some weight off my aching feet, I switch from foot to foot to find a small amount of relief.
“You need more support in your arches,” Jamie, my trainer and coworker for this shift, tosses my way when he comes to stand beside me at the coffee pot.
Jamie throws the white towel he used to clean off the tables in the sink to our right and leans a hip on the counter, turning his body to face mine. His upper arm muscles bulge stretching his official black Bonnie’s polos shirt at the hem of the short sleeve. It takes me a minute to pry my eyes away. Muscles do that to a girl. When my eyes roam up to meet his deep blue ones, he smiles at my assessment of him.
I look to my feet. “Is it that obvious?”
He laughs for a moment before answering, “No, you’re doing a good job of hiding it. I just know the signs.”
My eyes slide to his own footwear and I smile at his hiking boots with the laces tucked into the top. They remind me of Trey’s and I wonder if it’s the normal shoe wear in a city where everywhere seems uphill.
“Hey, you can laugh, but they work.” he wiggles his foot in front of us. “Besides, I thought you had experience.”
My eyes float to the ceiling while I lie. “Yeah, in college, but it was a few years ago. I’ve forgotten how hard it can be.” Okay, technically it's not a lie. I did waitress in college. I pulled an entire four-hour shift at our local pizza joint before I threw down my apron and quit after I spilled a third tray of food on me. Here’s hoping this second attempt is a bit smoother.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it again.” Jamie pats me on the back as he turns and retreats to the kitchen.
While waitressing at Bonnie’s Café pays significantly less than my past job, more than eighty thousand less, I need the money. It turns out quitting a high paying job and leaving town for a few months negatively affects your credit score. Not only do I owe Aspen $500 a month for rent, which I’ll probably have to force her to take, but I also owe over $12,000 to my previous apartment.
The biggest secret I’ve kept while living the high life in New York? I did it pay check to pay check. The company paid for me to move to San Francisco, but I used the small amount of savings I had as a security deposit and first month’s rent. Now I owe them for October and November's rent, late fees, and early termination fees for breaking my lease. Basically, I’m screwed. And not in a good way.
The kitchen door swings open and Jamie exits carrying a tray with two sandwich platters. “Think you can handle getting these to table six?” He slides the tray on the counter between us.
“No problem.” I pick the two round white plates up in my smooth attempt to avoid using the big black tray and head out to the main floor.
Table six sits along the back wall away from the main area of the small diner. The couple is young, maybe late teens, and they lean in toward one another whispering together. It’s four o’clock, almost quitting time, not that I’ve been counting down or anything, so I assume these two came here from school. The girl giggles at something her companion has said and I sigh at the cuteness. I miss young love.
The bell over the front door rings as someone new enters the diner.
“Go ahead and seat yourself and one of us will be right there.” Jamie’s voice booms between the four walls, but I don’t turn to look.
My replacement should be here any minute and hopefully they’ll be ready to take this table because my feet cannot handle one minute past four.
“If you two need anything else, just let me know.” I smile at the couple as I place their plates on the table. It’s a lie. If they need anything else, they best ask someone else. Like anyone else.
They don’t address me, which takes away some of their cuteness factor. What happened to manners? I turn back toward the kitchen repeating, “Twelve thousand dollars. Twelve thousand dollars,” to remind myself of why this job is my financial life saver.
I stop at the counter as Jamie closes the cake case and stands. “Ben and Lori aren’t here yet. Can you grab the new couple? They’re at table one by the window." Jamie points to the front window and I sigh.
“Sure.” I hope this doesn’t mean I have to stay until they’re done eating.
“Thanks.” He bends behind the counter again, but pushes back up quickly. “Hey, do you need a ride home? I’d hate to have you walk on those feet.”
I blush at his question and immediately look to the floor. Oh my God, it’s not high school. I shouldn’t react to this kind of shit. If only he wasn’t so young. There is no way Jamie’s over twenty-two. I have nothing against younger men, but I’d like to reach cougar status before I test the waters.
I bend to pick an imaginary item off the floor hoping he’ll think I was looking at that rather than having an internal fight with myself. “I’m actually only like two blocks away."
“Well, it’s an easy yes then.” He smiles down at me and I smack my lips at his straight teeth. How old before I reach cougar status?
“Okay.” I grab the note pad off the counter and walk to table one in a daze over exactly what I agreed to.
I’m still halfway in my mind and smiling over Jamie when I reach the table where I need to take an order. “What can I get you today?” My eyes move up to acknowledge my newest customers and my mouth falls open while my feet lock up, jolting me with the loss of momentum.
“Simone?” Trey looks to me from his seat at the table with a puzzled expression. From his confusion, I could lie and say my name was Jane and he might fall for it. I suppose it’s not like he’d expect me to be his waitress in a Pacific Heights diner.
