And Joy caught it. “You smiled!” she said with a gorgeously bright-white smile of her own. “Wow. I didn’t think you had it in you, Mister, even though your eyes said you did.”
William didn’t understand what she meant. Was she coming onto him? Thatchild? “How about that,” he said, which was his throwaway line whenever he didn’t get it.
“So which will it be?”
Neither were his cup of tea, but he needed to eat. “I’ll take the tenders.”
“What would you like with your tenders?”
“With them?”
“Fries,” she said with a nod of her head. “Or a baked potato?” she asked, but she shook her head at the bake potato suggestion.
“I’ll take the fries,” William said.
“Good choice,” she said. His eyes were so beautiful to Joy that she suddenly felt uncomfortable. And realized how close she was seated beside this man. She quickly stood up and grabbed the menu. “Tenders and fries with water coming right up,” she said and left his booth.
But she left an impression on William. A remarkable one. He still didn’t know what to make of her. But one thing he knewfor certain: She was just a kid compared to him. A kid, he also noticed as he watched her walk away, with a very nice body. A body that made clear to him that she was a long way from her kid days. He watched her work those hips in that miniskirt and those heels and that apron, as if she owned this joint. Which made him smile again. She was like a kid in a candy store. Only she was the candy.
CHAPTER SIX
As William ate his chicken tenders and French fries, he watched his server work. He recalled her saying that she’d been on her feet for eleven straight hours. He glanced at his watch. It was just after five pm. That would have meant she’d been on her feet since six that morning. He found himself wondering if it was a voluntary double shift to make extra money, or a necessary double shift to make ends meet. Which was a big difference. But mostly he found himself staring at her.
She was a talker, that was for sure. And so bubbly. But what was her story? Was she married? Did she have kids? The only thing he knew about her was that she was a hard worker. He was seeing her in action himself. Unlike those older waitresses who enjoyed standing around yakking at the mouth rather than serving their customers, that young lady was hustling. She was running circles around every one of her coworkers. She was moving fast while they were either standing still yakking, or heading outside for another cigarette break. He wondered if she smoked too?
He doubted it. She just didn’t seem like the type. When he was her age, which he put her around the early or mid-twenties, he could booze it up with the best of them. And still could. But he was a party boy until after what happened last year. She looked like she wouldn’t know what a lost weekend meant. Which was a good thing for a kid her age. He hoped she kept it up.
Then he caught himself. Kept what up? He knew nothing about that girl and truly didn’t care to know either. She wasdifferent, that was all. Kind of quirky in a non-annoying way. But he could never fall for somebody that young. That would be ridiculous. That was why he looked away from her and finished his greasy, but remarkably tasty chicken tenders and fries.
But as soon as he stopped staring at her, she was at his side. Did she notice his constant staring and stayed away until he got over himself? He sure hoped not!
“You okay?” she asked him. “Need anything?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well I’m tired.” She actually plopped down on his booth seat without being asked if she could sit with him, the way she did with the menu. But this time, instead of sitting so close next to him that she was nearly in his lap, she sat on the seat across from him.
“It’s been almost twelve hours,” she said. “And I still have four hours to go. This is usually my crash time. This is when my body says enough is enough.”
William couldn’t help it. He glanced down her body when she mentioned it. From her breasts to her slender curvaceousness, he couldn’t help but look. And that miniskirt was a turn on too. The other waitresses looked as if they rolled out of bed and threw on whatever was available, like a pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes. But this girl, in her little skirt, her sleeveless blouse, and her heels, looked as if she actually thought about her wardrobe and prepared accordingly. Even when the restaurant’s apron on, she stood out from the crowd.
She extended her hand. “My name is Joynetta by the way.”
He shook her little hand. A hand that felt even softer than it looked. “But everybody calls you what?”
“My coworkers call me Netta, which is short for Joynetta. Those that don’t know me well call me Joynetta. And Gramps and my best friend Contessa call me Joy.”
“Joy?” He nodded. “That fits you like a glove.”
She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“William.”
“But everybody calls you what?”
He started to sayMister Skeffingtonbecause that would be the truth. “William,” he said instead.
“No nickname?”
