Page 93 of Reno

“Reno’s a good man,” he said.

“He told you I was here, didn’t he?”

He studied me for a moment before responding. “I was going to tell you no, but I can’t lie to you. He did. I’d have spent the rest of my life a sad, sad man if I didn’t know where you were. You’re the only woman in my life.”

I felt flush. “I’d like to say you’re the only man in mine, but we both know that’d be a lie.”

He looked around and then reached for his newspaper. “I better let you get to it. Stop back by and see me once things slow down.”

“Biscuits and gravy with a pancake on the side,” I said, jotting down his order. “I will.”

He unfolded the paper and shot me a smile.

Working wasn’t all about the money, at least for me. The money was important, but it wasn’t the only reason I worked. I got a feeling of accomplishment from my job.

My life with Angel crushed my self-esteem. Working was a necessary part in restoring the damage that was done. The busier I was the better I felt. Having satisfied customers was my means of measuring my successes. If they chose to leave a tip, it was reassurance that they were happy with my performance.

The customers at Abby’s Place tipped nicely, leaving nothing to the imagination regarding their satisfaction with me.

The bell that hung above the door clanged. I looked up. Mister Reeves waved and flashed a toothy grin. “See you tomorrow, Carma.”

I waved. “Have a good day, Mister Reeves.”

Men like Ortiz and Reeves were one of the reasons I chose to be a waitress. The rewards of the job were much more than monetary. A heartfelt smile and a wave provide me with what money couldn’t buy.

A warm heart.

Thirty minutes later, after making my rounds, I glanced around the restaurant. We were at twenty-five percent capacity. I let out a sigh, glanced at Mister Ortiz’s table, and then headed for the coffee station.

George caught up with me just as I reached it. “The Old Man with the newspaper told me he came here just to see you,” he said.

“Mister Ortiz?”

He nodded. “He’s a very nice man.”

“He is,” I agreed. “I was afraid I was just going to end up missing him. Reno told him where I was. I was tickled to see him.”

“Well, he spent ten minutes telling me what a fabulous waitress you are.”

“I’ll have to thank him. Hopefully, I won’t prove him wrong.”

He laughed. “I didn’t need him to tell me, I can see it myself. You’re doing an amazing job, Carma.”

I blushed just a little. “Thank you.” I gestured toward Mister Ortiz. “I need to fill his coffee, or he’ll get grumpy.”

“Grumpy war vets are the worst.”

I chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

I poured Ortiz’s coffee cup full and glanced at his paper. “Anything interesting in the news today?”

“Not so much today. Take quite a bit to top last Sunday’s news. Finally caught that murdering scorpion guy.”

In English, El Alacrán meant The Scorpion. I was sure that was what he was talking about.

“Do you mean the drug dealer?”

“Drug dealer?” He scoffed. “He wasn’t a drug dealer. He was a dealer of death. Yes, that’s who I was talking about. Maybe things’ll clean up a bit around here.”