After refilling my table’s glasses with iced tea, I walk over to the front counter and wait for Pete to call my order up. The diner smells of greasy burgers and fries, homemade chili, fresh-baked apple pie, and meatloaf. It’s a mixture of scents that has my taste buds watering and reminds me that I haven’t eaten anything since the two pieces of dry toast I had for breakfast this morning.
“You want me to handle this one for you, sweetie?” Debbie, one of the older waitresses, asks me.
She points her pen toward the group of guys that just walked in, and I mentally groan. I look down at the watch on my wrist. Twenty minutes before Trevor Montgomery is supposed to arrive.
“Nah, I can take that table,” I tell her.
Working at Ruby’s is a necessity for me. This job pays the bills and allows me to eat something more than Ramen during the week. The diner itself is a throwback to the Fifties. It has red Formica countertops and a black-and-white checkered linoleum floor. Old movie posters decorate the walls, and an old-fashioned jukebox sits in the corner. Currently, it’s playing some Elvis Presley number. Most of the waitresses, like Debbie, wear poodle skirts and cardigans. Me? No freaking way. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a get-up like that. Luckily, Pete, the owner, knows my situation and allows me to come to work wearing my school clothes.
Raucous laughter from the guys booms throughout the diner. I pick up my order pad and slide a pen behind my ear. When I get to their table, their laughter stops, and four pairs of male eyes stare up at me in varying degrees of interest.
“Welcome to Ruby’s. You guys ready to order?” I ask, using my neutral tone, not the upbeat one I usually give to customers.
I go to school with all of them, and they love coming in here and messing with me on a regular basis because they think they can. Entitled rich pricks.
Austin is the first of the group to speak, but he takes his time since his eyes are roving up and down my body in a way that makes my blood curdle. I’m wearing the jeans and T-shirt I had on at school, along with a Ruby’s half-apron tied around my waist.
If Cam were here, he’d shut this asshole down. Austin and Cam hated each other. I can’t recall how many fights they got into on and off the football field. Austin is a running back on the team. His three friends, who I call Larry, Mo, and Curly, are on our school’s soccer team. They haven’t been into the diner for months now, and part of me feels a little sorry for Austin because I can guess as to the reason why.
His older brother, Marshall, was arrested earlier this year and was out on bail awaiting trial for aggravated assault and destruction of private property. He was killed by a drunk driver about four months ago. Two months before Cam. The coincidence of it all is unmistakable. After finding out that Mom was the drunk driver behind the wheel that killed Cam has me wondering if she was also responsible for Austin’s brother’s death as well.
“Long time, no see, Southside.”
“Thank you for the reminder of the part of town where I live. Now, what would you like to order?”
Instead of telling me, Austin switches topics. “Heard JD was messing with you today. Give me the word and I will step in and take care of him for you. Since Cam is no longer here to do the job, I mean.”
Him mentioning Cam’s name has my hand balling into a fist around the pad of paper. “I’m good. I can take care of myself.”
“I bet you can, but I can do itso much better,” he insinuates, which causes his three buddies to snicker like eight-year-olds.
“Austin, you’re wasting my time. Either order now or I can send Debbie over to help you.”
The bell on the door dings and I look over to see Trevor walking in, his large frame filling up the doorway. His gaze tracks around the diner until it lands on me, and he gives me a chin jerk. I hold up my finger, motioning him to take the table in the very back where it’s quiet.
Austin whistles low through his teeth. “Sugar daddy coming to pay you a visit?”
Just like with JD earlier today, I’m done. My tolerance for assholes is very low.
“Debbie, would you mind taking over for me?” I call out to where she’s standing behind the counter.
I turn to walk away from the table, but Austin snatches my wrist to stop me.
“We haven’t ordered yet.”
I slowly peel his fingers from around my wrist.
“I’m now on break. Sorry,” I inform him, and he frowns at me, not happy. Thankfully, Debbie arrives, and I’m able to escape.
“Do I need to ask?” Trevor inquires, as I sit down in the booth across from him.
I wave off his question. “Thank you for meeting me here on short notice.”
Those ice blue eyes crinkle at me. “I should be thanking you for hearing me out. So, you work here?”
“Yep. Five-to-ten, four days a week.”
Trevor sits back, relaxing into a posture that comes off more intimidating than it does friendly. He sees me tense up and he leans forward again, elbows on the table, making his demeanor more approachable. He must be particularly good at reading people. Should help a lot as CEO of a huge company—at least that is what it says on his business card.
