And possibly in handcuffs.
Staring Guy glares at Toby, then tries to catch my eye regardless of the warning.
I turn my back on them both and move on to my next order.
But I keep him in my peripheral vision and watch Toby fix his drink—flat white, just like his personality—and hand it over, hovering and doing that smile-glare thing until Staring Guy gets the message and leaves.
Toby tries to catch my eye after that, no doubt wanting praise for his chivalry.
Barf.
I go about my day, listening to snippets of stories to spice up my boring plotline.
By the mid-morning lull, I accept that Staring Guy and his Mars-bound eyeballs will probably be the highlight of today.
I’m on break when Greg, one of my two colleagues, walks in and makes a beeline for me.
“Hey, Ruby.”
I stifle a groan because Ireallydon’t feel like peopling today. “Hey, Greg.”
Chagrin deepens when he pulls out a chair and plonks himself down. I was hoping to spend my fifteen minutes of peace alone, but apparently not.
I suck in a breath and reach for the bright side. At least he’s not Toby.
But then Greg looks around dramatically, like he’s an extra inLaw & Orderand he’s just heard gunshots.
“What’s up?” I hurry him along.
He leans in with a too-wide smirk that makes me wonder if he’s high. That worry escalates when he reaches into his apron.
“Was waiting to catch you alone…”Oh please, hell no.“There was a customer this morning. He asked me to give you something. Paid me… get this… five hundred bucks for it.”
Wait. “What?”
Greg’s head bobs way too long. Yep, he’s high.
His hand emerges holding several hundred-dollar bills.
But tucked between the once-crisp fold is— “A business card?” I frown.
“He was adamant I give it to you. Said you should call him today. Like today. This morning, even.”
I purse my lips. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening.”
Greg shakes his head like a manic bobblehead. “I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong.”
This is LA. There are a million times as many sleazebags as decent human beings. But Greg’s insistence makes me hesitate.
“I didn’t even serve the guy. You don’t think I find any motive to get in touch with someone sketchy as fuck?”
He shakes his head harder. “I saw him trying to talk to you. You didn’t recognize him, did you?”
I roll my eyes, luxuriating in the freedom of being off the shop floor. “Clearly not.”
“Rubes. That was Carl Band Baby Sitter No. 3 Leebers.”
I tilt my head in mock sympathy. “You just spewed a whole bunch of words, Greg. Sadly none of them appealed. Especially the first one.”
