Page 1
1
TRAPPED
Blaire collected dirty plates and sighed, fighting a headache, and trying to be grateful for the much-needed hours after being cut short the week before. She started wiping down the table but stopped short at the sight of the newcomers taking their seats in the large round corner booth next to the secondary entrance. They were in Charlotte’s section, but she must have gone to the back.
The burgundy and black uniforms caught her eye first—Blackthorn Academy students, two girls and a guy. Though uniforms on college-aged students threw her off, a few private Christian colleges had uniforms, so it wasn’t unheard of. From the way Blackthorn students accessorized their plaid uniforms, she doubted they were Christian; tattoos, colored hair, fishnet stockings, and certain jewelry choices didn’t go over well in the deeply religious South.
The messy table would have to wait. She ducked behind the bar counter to set down the bin of dirty dishes.
The massive compound of the private university sat atop a large, grassy hill at the edge of town, surrounded by mystery. No one Blaire knew had ever been admitted there, not even anyone from Magnolia Heights, the local college prep school populated by Rosebrook Valley’s wealthiest elite. Blackthorn’s secrecy and exclusivity led to speculation and rumors all over Georgia.
“Hey, sugar, can you top me off?” Bill asked, catching Blaire’s attention. A regular in Ricky’s Diner, he was a stout man easily in his sixties. His graying mustache curling on the ends emphasized his ear-to-ear smile, making him look like the Cheshire Cat.
“Sure, Bill. How’s Maggie?” She retrieved the coffee decanter.
“Same ole, same ole. Still giving me hell whenever I forget to cut the grass, but I love the old gal, so what can you do?” He chuckled. “Thanks, sugar.”
Blaire smiled politely as she poured, her gaze drawn back to the students in the corner. Still no sign of Charlotte; Blaire would have to get their initial order.
She pulled out a new notepad from beneath the counter and crossed to their table, laughing to herself about how girls at Magnolia Heights had said students of Blackthorn sold their souls to the Devil to obtain their looks—one of many superstitions still holding strong in the Bible Belt. Tattoos and colored hair aside, the always well-groomed students of Blackthorn Academy were intense looking. Most of them were attractive in some way, and Blaire found their presence overwhelming. She never saw them associate with anyone outside their own circle, other than staff at whatever establishment they were doing business with. But sold their souls to the Devil? The idea was ridiculous, even if she had believed in things like heaven and hell, God, and the Devil.
“Good morning, and welcome to Ricky’s Diner. Can I start you off with some coffee?”
A petite Asian girl looked up at Blaire, her features pinched in a way that showed clear disdain. “Juice. Apple.” She looked down at the menu in obvious dismissal.
Right. Okay.
Across the table, a throat cleared, and Blaire met the chocolate eyes of a boy with ebony skin and dreadlocks that fell to his jawline. His arm, in a crisp, long-sleeved white Oxford shirt, was wrapped around a girl with dark purple hair and warm, caramel skin who nestled into his side. She wore a more feminine cut of white blouse, as did the Asian girl, and all three wore plaid ties matching the girls’ skirts.
“I’d like a sweet tea, loaded hash browns, and eggs,” he said in a soft tone, enunciating as if he were choosing his words carefully, for which she was grateful. It made him less intimidating.
Blaire scribbled in her notepad with a nod. “How would you like your eggs?”
“Cheesy and scrambled, please.”
The girl with the purple hair spoke up with an accent Blaire couldn’t place. “Can I get biscuits and sausage gravy? Same drink.” She tapped the menu on the table to point out the item she wanted, exposing a black, swirling tattoo with hatched lines on the back of her hand. While having a tattoo wasn’t out of the ordinary anymore, the dark-skinned guy had the same symbol tattooed in the exact same spot on his hand. It seemed a strange thing to have matching tattoos of, but she didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of questioning the lifestyles of the rich and powerful. Their way of doing things never made sense to her.
Blaire cleared her throat and shook her wayward thoughts. “Sure thing. Did you want something to eat as well?” Blaire turned back to the prickly girl.
Looking up at Blaire with her nose wrinkled, the Asian girl gave her a once-over and huffed. “Three sausage links. One egg. Half a grapefruit. One biscuit.” She glared, adding quickly, “Over easy.”
Blaire’s mouth fell open. She could have sworn the girl’s brown eyes brightened when she glared. She squeezed her eyes shut to moisten them, then stared into the girl’s dark, impatient eyes. Blaire’s headache must be worse than she thought. She was seeing things.
“C-certainly. We’ll get that right out as soon as possible.”
The table fell silent again, none of the students giving her another glance or word of acknowledgment. Their world seemed narrow and self-absorbed if they only spoke to outsiders when it was absolutely necessary to force pleasantries. Blaire couldn’t call their interaction pleasant—more like a means to an end. One of the biggest rumors floating around Rosebrook was how Blackthorn was a secret cult society, and none of the students were allowed to socialize with “regular town folk,” or they would be expelled.
She crossed to the counter to enter their order into the system, then glanced around wondering where Charlotte had gotten off to. She needed her to take the Blackthorn students’ table if she was starting to see things. She didn’t need to freak out in front of customers.
After putting everything into the system, Blaire finished clearing the table, giving herself a break from interacting with people. She rounded the bar and pushed through the large, red swinging door to the kitchen, where the greasy magic happened, and then placed the dirty dishes into the bin for the next dishwasher load.
Heading back into the diner to clear one last table in her section, she took a deep breath and plastered on as genuine a smile as she could muster, considering how terrible she felt. Bright sunlight streamed through the large windows of the front wall. Coupled with the large retro lights hanging from the ceiling, the brightness brought pain to her sleep-deprived mind. Add in the fact that she wasn’t seeing things clearly, and the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and she already wanted to call it a day an hour into her shift. Most of the time, she enjoyed the bright lights and delicious smells, but it all overwhelmed her this morning. Coffee permeated the grease in the air, and pie would add to the mix if they got around to stocking the glass-covered dessert stands on the bar counter.
She stopped at a booth along the wall where a woman waved an empty glass at her. This wasn’t her section either, but Blaire smiled politely despite the throbbing headache from lack of sleep. “Something I can get for you?” she asked, tucking her tray beneath her arm at her side.
“I’d appreciate it if my tea didn’t run out while I’m still chokin’ down my breakfast.” The woman shook her empty glass at Blaire again to emphasize her point.
The rattling ice made Blaire’s eye twitch. Seven more hours to go before she could bury her head under a pillow and hopefully sleep away the awful pain.
