Lucky me!
Wearing the ugly brown dress for Rusty’s, I was almost trampled to death by Tate’s big form as he rushed down the hall to the kitchen, while I went back to the bathroom to put on some make-up to cover the dark circles under my eyes. Ididn’t want to look like the walking dead as I served Belgian waffles and bacon to the hungry masses of Babylon, Texas.
I’d barely made it two steps into the room when another shout met me from the general direction of the kitchen, my own colorful roll of expletives conveniently covering the question I already knew was coming.
I hadn’t just forgotten the laundry. I’d forgotten to food shop, too. The kid probably had a choice of month old leftovers or moldy asparagus to choose from… if asparagus even went moldy. Those were now life's hard-hitting questions for me.
“Take some money out of my purse for lunch, Tate. I’m so sorry, buddy.”
I stuck my head around the door frame and gave an apologetic smile as he swung around the wall at the end of the hall that led to the front of our little house.
“Don’t sweat it, sis. I don’t need money. I’ll share Sloane’s lunch.”
Sloane was his vapid, whiney little girlfriend, who just happened to be the daughter of our town’s police chief. Lucky me, again. They’d only been together for a few months but she was besotted with him.
“Don’t do that,” I said, just before pushing the toothbrush into my mouth.
“Do what?”
I rolled my eyes, leaned back into the bathroom to spit out the excess, and returned to where I had been. “Depend on a girl, or worse, appear like a charity case. It’s unattractive and makes me feel like a complete asshole. I can feed you, Tate.”
“Relax, A. She always offers anyway. I normally eat my sandwiches on the way home from practice. Don’t sweat yourmake-up off.”
“Smartass. Go find yourself something for breakfast or you’ll be walking to school.”
Putting his hands up in surrender, he shrugged before he disappeared again, leaving me in peace to bang my head against the wall in frustration.
My daily curses at the world started early, and they didn’t stop again until I’d dropped Tate off. Then I hit the road to drive my usual ten miles out to the freeway, the one that passed around the edge of town and was home to Rusty’s diner.
“Ayda, you’re late again,” the gruff voice of my boss rasped as I slid inside, the screen door slapping closed behind me.
Looking up at the clock, I saw he was right. I was a whole thirty seconds late. Rolling my eyes, I pulled on my apron and pushed my order book and pen into the front pocket before starting on a fresh pot of coffee in silence.
“Sorry, Rusty, had to stop for gas.” I hadn’t, but I always gave him some kind of excuse that wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. He asked me for a receipt once, and I stared at him dumbfounded until he rolled his eyes and waved a spatula at me.
“Sorry. Not my problem, kid. I make enough allowances for you. You’re the only one who isn’t flexible, you know. You have fixed hours that never deviate—”
“And I’m damn lucky that you respect my work ethics or I’d be out on my young, smart ass,” I finished for him with a grin. He was already mumbling and waving the spoon for the grits around in the air.
“Leave the girl alone, Rusty. She works three jobs and isa full-time parent. You can cut her some slack,” said a voice from behind me.
“Is that right?” Rusty asked, spinning on his heel and staring her down.
Janette looked over at me and made an exasperated face. She’d been married to Rusty for almost thirty years. He liked to act as though he was in control, but it was easy to see who held the reins in their relationship. She could correct him with one simple look. I loved them both. No matter how many times I rolled my eyes at them. This was the first job I managed to get after my parents died, and Rusty and Janette had done everything short of adopting us.
“You’re an old fool. Don’t let him get to you, Ayda.”
I gave her a sly grin before putting all the napkins and condiments on the tables. We had ten minutes before things got busy and, as though on cue, the bell rang over the door as the coffee finished brewing and the first of our regulars filtered in. I knew most of the faces in the place. They came in every day, ordered the same things and spoke about football, baseball or anything new that happened in town, which was, admittedly, rare. The regulars were followed closely by a group I only saw on occasion.
The Motorcycle Club from town had rolled in.
It was normally too early for them to be out and about. They were generally nocturnal. I only ever saw them at night when they rode through Babylon, the sound of their bikes giving them away as they passed. They were always polite and respectful when I saw them, so I had nothing against them, but I didn’t miss the murmur from the regulars as they seated themselves in a booth at the back of the diner.
It wasn’t difficult to see the divide in the place. Even ifthey hadn’t been wearing their leather vests with the club name emblazoned over every inch, their style would have given them away. They were, for lack of a better term, organized chaos. Their hair was windblown and their skin weatherworn. Black ink crept from under their sleeves and covered most of the skin that sat exposed. If that wasn’t enough, they looked in control, all of them leaders filled with confidence as they draped themselves over the plastic-covered seats, their laughter a mixture of depravity and humor.
Approaching their table and offering a smile, I pulled the pad from my apron, one foot crossing the other and resting on the toe as I waited for them to acknowledge me.
“Hey, sweetheart. Six coffees for now. Regular, not decaf. We need to keep our asses awake.”
