An hour into my shift, and I’d already added a new stain to the shins of my pants. I groaned, tempted to stamp my feet. Solid black and snug in all the right places, they were my most comfortable pair of work pants. Go figure.
I wiped my hands on my t-shirt, uncaring if I got it dirty, and started grabbing plates of wings, smelling them and stacking them in order along my arm. I’d been working at the restaurant long enough, I could tell the flavor of each wing sauce by smell alone. It made my job a whole lot easier since the cooks had a habit of not labeling them anyway.
Turning, I bumped the swinging door open with my hip, dashing out to each meal’s designated recipient, smiling and re-filling drinks before heading back into the kitchen to do it all again.
Overall, I didn’t mind waitressing. It wasn’t always easy, but the tasks themselves were fairly straightforward and it kept me busy. The only slow time I ever had was at the beginning of my shift during the grace period before the dinner rush.
Which was why my boss hadn’t batted an eye at my late arrival. He was younger than I was and high as a kite most days, so he was pretty laidback. It bugged me more about being late than it had him.
I’d stressed about it the entire way here, deciding I would start taking my uniform to the office to change so I could drop Jamie off and head right back out. Layla was about to start her new job soon, and I’d have to start dropping him off at my parents again anyway. It made sense to cut out as much wasted time as possible.
About halfway through my shift, I finally got a lull in my tables. It was times like this I envied the smokers who had an excuse to step out back for a break. If I had the money to spare, I’d buy a pack and light one up and hold it, just so I could join them.
Checking on the few customers I had, I made sure they’d be set for a bit and then made my way to the bar. Nate always worked the same nights I did, and he was my favorite person here. “Hey, Nate.”
“Hey, Curly, where has your cute ass been all night?”
“Working. We can’t all laze about, twiddling our thumbs behind a bar.” I grinned at him.
Nate was a damn good bartender, and he had the giant jar of tips to prove it. Around the same height as me, he had black hair slicked back, tattoos covering every inch of his arms, and big green eyes that worked like a charm when he needed something. He had a mysterious and dangerous vibe to him but was a gooey pushover on the inside.
He also happened to be a horndog with a firm belief in open relationships and group activities. I’d lost track of the number of times he’d tried to convince me to give the lifestyle a shot. Not with him, but in general.
My answer had always been the same. No, thanks. Reverse harems were sexy in books, but the female anatomy could only take so much. I swore my vagina clamped shut just thinking about more than one dude climbing on top of me in a twenty-four-hour period.
“Guess I’ll be too busy twiddling my thumbs after close to make you a drink then.”
Recoiling, I clutched my chest and dropped my mouth open. “You wouldn’t dare.” He just pointed at me, making me chuckle.
I tapped my hands on the bar, getting ready to head back to check on tables when a familiar face snagged my attention. I froze, blinking several times, unsure if it was actually him or not.
Dressed in jeans that pulled taut around his thighs and a dark green Henley, Garrett sat perched on a stool at the far end of the bar. He was leaning to the side, one elbow resting on the bar while his other hand curled around a bottle of beer in his lap.
He wasn’t alone. Sitting next to him, blessed with his undivided attention, was a woman. She could’ve been a stranger I supposed, but his posture was relaxed, and his face lacked the tension I’d begun to think was a permanent feature. It seemed like he knew her, liked her.
I wondered what it was about her that enticed him, what he preferred in his women. Looks could often be deceiving, but she appeared to be in her early forties with thick, luscious curves, and long, coppery waves that fell about her shoulders. She was gorgeous.
I liked to think I had a decent ass, but there was nothing luscious about my thighs, and no one would be writing ballads about my B-cup breasts. Biting my lip, I forced myself to snap out of it. Who cared what he saw in her? It’s not like I wanted his attention.
Before I could force my body to move, his eyes traveled over the woman’s head and landed right on me, widening almost imperceptibly. I could have looked down and seen a sniper’s dot on my chest, and it wouldn’t have caused my heart to stop as much as his stare did.
I should’ve walked away right then. I didn’t owe him anything. I knew that, but some neighborly part of me wanted to repair the rift between us and at least say hello.
With each step I took in his direction, his face seemed to close down more and more, until it finally settled into that flat look I was accustomed to. His companion, sensing his attention was no longer hers, looked over her shoulder at me. Her brows rose, and her eyes darted back and forth between us.
In perfect Madison fashion, I gave her an awkward wave, and then looked back into Garrett’s unfriendly, yet still stupidly attractive, face. “Hey, Garrett. How are you?”
“Fine.”
He took a swig of his beer, his tone sharp enough to slice a chunk out of me if I stepped too close, and I couldn’t help but feel irritated. He was never going to see me as anything more than a gold digger. It was time for me to get over it and stop wasting my time. I wasn’t like that, so his opinion didn’t matter.
No matter what, I refused to let him think his attitude affected me. Pasting on my biggest waitress smile, I said, “That’s great to hear. I’ve got tables I need to check on so I’m—”
“I thought you did something else for work.”
“Um…” I froze, wondering where he was going with that. Both his tone and the curl of his lip told me he thought I was being sketchy. Was he trying to imply I didn’t actually work here? For his intellect’s sake, I sincerely hoped not. I was wearing an apron, for fuck’s sake.
“I do.”
He wanted to ask another question. I could see it in the way he tapped his fingers along his half-empty bottle, the way creases appeared across his forehead and his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In the end, his desire to ask won out against his desire to ignore my existence.
“Then why are you working here?”
The motherfucker really thought I was lying about something. Was he that dense, or just convinced of his own superiority that he couldn’t fathom the idea he’d been wrong about me? Either way, I blamed my pent-up anger from the day’s worth of shit interactions that fed the fire on what I did next.
Gracing him with the most insincere expression I could muster, I stepped into his personal space, just shy of straddling his knee. The side of my pinkie brushed the top of his hand as my fingers wrapped around his beer.
I pulled it from his grasp, knocking my head back and downing the half-full bottle in one go. Bringing my face a few inches from his, I ran my tongue across my bottom lip, his eyes tracking the movement.
“Because I’ve yet to find a sugar daddy with a large enough…” I dropped the empty bottle directly in his lap, letting my eyes linger on it, “pocket.”
The look on Garrett’s face was worth every crushing wave of anxiety I was inevitably going to suffer from later, likely when I tried to sleep. I stepped back, keeping my eyes on his surprised ones, and letting my face drop into my best bitch face. “Have a good night, Garrett.”
I made my way back to the kitchen, ignoring Nate’s attempts at grabbing my attention. What the hell had I been thinking? I had no idea if anyone other than Nate and Garrett’s companion had seen that, but I could only hope the answer was no.
I’d like to say I held my head high and worked around my asshole neighbor, but I didn’t. I avoided the bar like the plague for the next hour or so, going so far as to bribe another coworker to deliver my tables’ alcoholic drinks.
It wasn’t until Nate finally found me and told me Garrett had left that I stopped hiding like a little bitch. I may have no issue showing fangs when threatened, but you bet your ass I’m going to tuck tail and run as soon as it’s safe.
By the time the last straggler left for the night, and we’d locked up to start closing duties, it was sometime after midnight. Sadly for me, nothing assisted my brain in dredging up things I’d rather forget than monotonous, boring chores.
Refilling condiment containers? I was thinking about how good Garrett looked in his favored Henleys. Mopping the floor? I was remembering the way our hands brushed and how I’d wrapped my lips around the same bottle he had a few minutes before. Wiping down the bathroom? I was physically cringing at what’d I’d said and done.
I might as well have dug a hole, climbed in willingly, and started scooping in dirt. If he thought I was a whore looking for a sugar daddy before, he definitely believed it now. I didn’t know why it bothered me so much. Maybe because we shared a wall, and as long as I lived there, I’d regularly see him. It just would’ve been nice to get along, I guess.
“You ready yet, Curly?”
I looked up from the table I was sitting at to see Nate with his jacket on, his foot tapping away. I’d been counting up my cash and zoned out. I hadn’t even realized we were the only ones left. “Yeah, I just need to go cash out real quick.”
“You want your usual?”
“Please.”
He gave me a mischievous grin, and I knew he was waiting to push me about my encounter with Garrett as soon as we stepped outside.
Sure enough, as soon as my butt landed in a seat and I’d curled my feet underneath me, he’d handed me my cranberry juice and rum and gone straight for blood.
“You got any hot plans tonight?”
The way he exaggerated the word ‘hot’ had me narrowing my eyes. “Nope.”
“Curly, with the amount of tension pulsating off you and your mystery man, I thought for sure you were gonna get you some after work. I thought maybe he was a new boyfriend, and ya’ll were doing some role-playing shit.”
If I’d have been taking a drink, it’d have gone straight to my lungs. “Jesus Christ, Nate. No.”
“I don’t know, I felt like I was watching the foreplay scene for a porno. It was hot.”
I set my cup down, hiding my face in my hands and shaking my head. “Oh my God, you need help.”
“And you need to get yourself laid.”
I examined the contents of my drink, taking a swig and giving Nate a side-eye. “There is not nearly enough alcohol in here for this conversation.”
It was almost two o’clock in the morning when I pulled into my drive. I was worn out, but at least I didn’t have to study. As a whole, I enjoyed weekdays more. I’d always rather hang out with Jamie and study than work a double shift, but tonight, my brain was thankful it didn’t have to function academically.
Removing the keys from the ignition, I looked over at Garrett’s side. There was an unknown car parked behind his Nova, and I could only assume it was the woman I’d seen with him. My stomach tightened, and an oily feeling curled up inside me. Jealousy.
Not that she was with him, but because of the simple fact that two adults had the opportunity and desire to enjoy each other’s company and bodies. And I’d be over here, continuously going home alone like I had been for years.
Maybe I’d sleep on the couch tonight. The idea of hearing Garrett shaking the sheets as his reward for strutting through life as a dick was more than I could bare. Especially when I’d likely be snuggled up against a pillow just to feel like someone was sleeping next to me. Maybe I’d shove Layla over and crash in her room.
“Hey, mama bear.”
I startled, dropping the keys I’d yanked from the lock. Layla was lying across the couch on her stomach, knees bent and feet criss-crossing back and forth. She was looking up at me over her reading glasses, a notebook and pen in front of her. Neither dog was present, probably curled up together in one of our beds.
“I didn’t realize you’d still be awake, it’s two o’clock in the morning. Did anything happen with Jamie?”
“Yes, his room caught on fire, and while we were running outside to escape, a copperhead bit him on the ankle. Also, he has mono. I just thought it best not to call and tell you any of that.”
I rolled my eyes skyward, praying to the ceiling constellations for patience. This woman was lucky I owed her, or I would’ve sat right on her face. “So why are you still up? Music muse?”
“Something like that.” She toyed with the pen, pressing the end button in a rhythmic tune. “I slept for a little bit but woke up hungry. I came out here for some Oreos and an idea for a song hit me. So here we are.”
“If you give a Layla a cookie.”
“Ugh, you’re such a mom.”
I plopped down on the floor, letting my head fall back to rest against her thigh and exhaled heavily, I was so ready to pass out. “Really, though, did he behave?”
“Yeah, of course. We had a great time. He missed you though. He beat some time record on Rainbow Road and turned to tell you before remembering you weren’t home.”
My heart fell, straight through my feet, the floor, the ground, the goddamn planet itself. Layla could’ve shot me, and it wouldn’t have torn a gaping hole in my chest as savagely as those words did.
It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, of me disappointing him. He learned to hide it more now that he was older, but I knew he wished I was home on the weekends.
No matter what I did, what choices I made, I always lost. If I only worked one job, we’d be homeless. If I worked two jobs, we’d be back sharing a one-bedroom apartment. If I worked three jobs, I could finally provide my child with a home, but at the cost of our time together.
Sometimes I wondered if the person who first said money can’t buy happiness ever knew what it was like to be poor. To struggle. Did he or she ever have to take a calculator to the store just to find a way to afford a month of groceries?
Inspirational quotes weren’t made for those of us living near the bottom. They were made for people at the top to feel better about their privileges. To tease us bottom dwellers that if we tried harder, reached farther, or if we just learned to appreciate what we currently have and not what we could have, we could be just as happy and content as them.
It was bullshit wrapped in fancy words and a flowery background to overpower the stench. The world wasn’t made for us losers to win. The best we could do was simply finish the game unscathed.
