I looked at him blankly, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah, no thanks. Beer’s fine. Not really a cosmo girl,” I said, going back to my sketch in an attempt to subtly get the message across that I wasn’t interested.
“Ha!” he laughed. “Every girl’s a cosmo girl! It’ll be my treat.”
He leaned over to the bartender to order the drink, when an arm pulled him back by the shoulder.
“The lady said no, thanks.”
It was Wyatt.
I watched as the man turned around to see Wyatt standing there, tall, dark and unimpressed. He looked at Wyatt, then looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and walked away, deciding to go try his luck somewhere else.
“You’re welcome,” Wyatt said as he sat down next to me and asked the bartender to bring him a bottle of water.
“Thanks, but I can handle myself, you know. I didn’t need you to save me,” I replied, trying not to sound so relieved.
Wyatt lifted his palms up in front of him apologetically.
“Sorry, I was just trying to help. I can go get Cosmo Boy and bring him back for you if you like?” He smirked.
“No thanks.”
“Didn’t think so,” he said, dropping his hands onto the bar with a smile.
My butterflies took flight again, and I tried to think of something to say.
“You on break?” I motioned to the stage.
“Yeah,” he replied, taking a swig of his water. “Gotta go back on in ten, but… Will you stay? After?”
I could see Jo and Ben pushing their way through the crowd as he spoke.
“I want to talk to you about something,” he said, looking at me intently, watching my reaction.
“Oh, yeah of course. I’ll be here,” I replied.
Just then, Ben came up behind Wyatt, wrapping his arm around him and kissing him on the cheek.
“You are rockin’ it up there, man!” he yelled, clearly drunk.
“Thanks, man,” Wyatt grinned, his eyes still on me.
I tried to match his gaze, but I felt very aware of Jo’s penetrating stare.
She looked at Wyatt, then at me, then back at Wyatt, and smiled so widely that I thought she would hurt herself. Ben and Wyatt started making their way back to the stage, while Jo propped herself up on the stool next to me.
“What was that?” she asked, still smiling.
“Oh that? Nothin’. Wyatt was just asking me to stay back after they finish… he wants to ‘talk’ to me about something,” I said as I drank my beer, trying to act casual.
“Hells yes!” Jo squealed as she slapped me on the thigh. “This is it, Eva! This is it! Your moment!”
I loved seeing her so happy for me, and I started to think she might be right. I smiled, hardly able to wait for the final song of the night. Maybe this is my moment.
Chapter Three
Jo and I sat alone at the bar while the bartenders collected all the empty glasses and bottles. Ben took a taxi home long before last call, too drunk to stand on his own.
“I don’t know why he does that to himself all the time!” Jo had said when he left. “All he does is make himself sick. And we have to open the diner in the morning,” she continued, looking worried.
There had always been a spark between Ben and Jo – they were constantly flirting with each other – but either they are both too stubborn to admit it or too oblivious to notice.
Either way, I decided long ago to stay out of it; I had enough trouble sorting out my own love life, let alone someone else’s. Besides, Jo occupied herself by running the diner every day, while Ben was busy training to be a paramedic – they hardly had time for anything else.
“Ugh, what’s taking him so long?” Jo moaned, leaning back on the bar. “We’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes!”
I tried to be patient, but ever since Wyatt asked me to stay behind I had been waiting anxiously for closing time. Now that everyone had gone and it was suddenly quiet enough for me to think clearly, I started to get nervous.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” I nudged Jo. “I’ll see you at work in the morning bright and early, you’ll be the first to know everything… if anything happens.”
Jo looked at me as if I had just told her that her shoes were out of season.
“Absolutely not! I have been waiting for this just as long as you have, missy! I’m not waiting until tomorrow for anything!”
“Okay, okay, calm down,” I laughed.
“No!” Jo said jokingly, jumping off the bar stool and stamping her foot on the ground.
“I will not calm down. What’s he trying to do? He asks you to wait here for him so he can talk to you, then leaves you hanging, like he’s so cavalier!” Jo was prone to being overdramatic, especially when it came to me. “You know what I say?” Jo asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“What do you say?” I replied, going along with her little performance to pass the time.
“I say you march back there and go get him! Go make your moment happen!”
I laughed, but couldn’t help but think she had a point.
Jo sat back next to me, ending her faux tantrum.
“No, I’m serious. Maybe he’s waiting for you. I bet he’s sprawled out the dressing room couch, waiting for you to come and ravish him.”
She leaned back on the bar, threw her arms up in the air and tilted her head back, much to the delight of the bartenders cleaning behind the bar.
“Or maybe he’s just taking his sweet time!” she added, springing back up and yelling it towards the stage.
Suddenly, she turned around, leaned over the other side of the bar and threw up.
I jumped up to help her and hold her hair back.
“Clearly Ben isn’t the only one who’s had a few too many drinks tonight,” I sighed.
“Come on, you can stay at my place tonight.”
Jo sat up, wiped her mouth and shook her head.
“No! Not until you get your butt back there and have your freaking moment!”
And with that, she was back over the bar again.
“I’ll call a taxi and get her a bucket, you go do whatever it is she’s nagging you to do,” said one of the bartenders, irritated.
“Fine. I’ll be right back, Jo.”
I walked across the deserted dance floor, climbed onto the stage and disappeared behind the curtain.
Turning into the hallway, I heard voices coming from one of the adjoining rooms. I recognized Wyatt’s voice, and from the conversation I gathered he was talking to one of his band mates.
“I saw a couple of groupies hanging out by the bar, waiting for us. A sexy redhead and a rocker chick. Which one you want?” I heard the mystery man say, and I stopped in my tracks.
“Neither. I’m going home,” Wyatt replied.
“Whatever, man. I saw you chatting up the rocker chick before. You keen on her?”
I held my breath, waiting to hear his response.
“Pfft, nah. She’s just a girl I know from work.”
“You mind if I have a crack at her?”
“Go ahead. You won’t like her though. She’s one of those girls who goes on and on about how independent she is, how she doesn’t need a guy to save her or whatever. She’s pretty boring, actually,” Wyatt said, apathy in his voice.
My heart sank deep into my chest. I didn’t know whether to run away or confront him about his hurtful words.
“Ugh. I hate those girls. So annoying. Alright, I’ll take the redhead,” the other voice replied, and I heard their footsteps coming towards the hallway.
I started to turn around and walk away, but I stopped myself. Even though I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and a lump forming in my throat, I knew I had to stand up for myself.
Wyatt and his band mate made their way into the hallway, and froze in place when they saw me standing in front of them. Wyatt’s eyes widened and his face went pale as it dawned on him that I had heard their conversation. I recognized the other man as
Tom, the lead singer in the band.
“Good luck, man,” Tom smirked and pat Wyatt on the shoulder before pushing passed me and heading back towards the bar.
“Eva, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” Wyatt started, but I interrupted him.
“At least now I know what you really think. I better go – before I start to bore you,” I snapped, storming off in a hurry.
I wanted to say more, to tell him I didn’t have room in my life for anyone who didn’t respect me for who I am, to ask him why he asked me to stay, but I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry over him.
I pushed my way through the curtains, hearing Wyatt running down the hall behind me. Jumping off the stage, I saw Tom sitting on a stool next to Jo, who looked half-asleep, leaning her arms on the bar. As I got closer I saw he had his hand on her thigh.
“Leave her alone,” I said through gritted teeth as I slapped his hand away.
“Eva!” Jo sprang up, suddenly awake. “How did it go? Did you have your moment?” she smiled.
“Not exactly,” I sighed as I helped her off the stool. “I’ll explain when we get back to my place. Let’s go.”
I pulled her along as I hurried out of the bar and onto the street.
Thank god, I thought as I saw a taxi waiting for us.
I laid Jo down in the back and jumped in next to her, slamming the door shut as Wyatt ran out of the bar. I gave the driver my address and didn’t look back as we drove away, leaving Wyatt behind.
Chapter Four
I woke up to the hot sun shining through my bedroom window and onto my bed. My eyes struggled to open, last night’s mascara caking them together like glue. I drove my face into the pillow, trying hard not to remember the night before.
Groaning, I reached my hand down the side of the bed and searched around for my phone to check the time. When I held my phone close to my still-adjusting eyes, the first thing I noticed was the fifteen missed calls from Wyatt.
Sliding my thumb over the screen to unlock it and clear the calls list, I cringed when I saw the time. My shift had started half an hour ago.
I jumped out of bed and ran into the living room to wake up Jo, who had spent the night on the couch, but she was gone.
“Jo?” I called as I walked into the kitchen, seeing a note on the table.
Thanks for looking after me. Sorry about The Douche. Stay home today, I’ll deal with him.
‘The Douche,’ I presumed, was Jo’s new name for Wyatt. I rolled my eyes at her suggestion to stay home to avoid him – no way would I stop living my life over a guy, no matter who he was. I felt sick wondering what Jo meant by ‘dealing’ with him. Knowing her, it would involve a lot of drama.
In a rush, I tied my hair into a ponytail, pulled on my trusty jeans and boots, threw on my favourite tee (grey with a large wolf printed on it), wrapped a maroon scarf around my neck and grabbed my satchel, throwing my makeup bag in there so I could put eyeliner on at work.
Thank god I live so close to the diner, I thought as I slammed the door shut behind me and started running down the stairs, the glare of the sun making me squint.
Walking out onto the street, I noticed how quiet it was. A part from a few sirens in the distance, everything was silent. No cars, no people, no trams. It was deserted.
I looked at my watch, seeing it was just passed ten o’clock. It was Saturday morning, meaning most people in this neighbourhood were either sleeping in or too hungover to move.
But it had never been this quiet before.
I wondered if I should have taken Jo’s advice and stayed home, but I quickly shook off that thought, knowing I’d be better off at work with something to distract me from my pathetic broken heart.
Except Wyatt.
I looked at my watch again. Wyatt was working today, too, and his shift started in thirty minutes. I felt the butterflies return, only now they were sickly, like they had been spinning out of control for far too long.
I wanted to shrug it off like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t tear me up inside, but I would only be lying to myself. Deep down I knew it was his loss, but right now I just felt… crushed.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone shuffling slowly behind me, groaning loudly.
Probably still drunk.
Saturday morning always brought party-goers and up-all-nighters stumbling into the diner for a hangover cure. I put my headphones in as I picked up speed.
Walking towards the diner, I noticed Wyatt’s car wasn’t parked in it’s usual spot down the street – as a bright yellow Chevy Impala, it’s very easy to spot. Relief washed over me; he hadn’t arrived yet.
I pushed the door to Pop Rocks open, causing the bell above it to jingle. Ben and Jo were standing behind the counter, chatting while they wrapped napkins around cutlery in preparation for what would surely be a busy day.
Their heads snapped the door at the sound of the bell, and when they saw me and immediately fell silent, I knew that they had been talking about last night.
“Hi,” I muttered, avoiding eye contact as I walked behind the counter and into the tiny office, throwing my bag on the desk against the wall.
Meticulously created to be a perfect replica of a 1950’s diner, Pop Rocks had everything from vintage art prints and Coca-Cola posters to the blue and white tiles on the floor flown all the way from the USA.
Large booths lined the large windows all across the L-shaped design, followed by two-seater tables in the middle of the restaurant area and stools all along the counter.
Behind the counter stood a large kitchen island, with plates and soda glasses on one side, a milkshake maker and food preparation area on the other, and a long stove, oven and fryer parallel to it.
A swinging door to the right of the counter led into the back room, which held a storage area, an industrial dishwasher and a walk-in freezer. A sliding door to the left of the counter opened up into the office.
Usually, fifties music would play through the diner – with speakers over the door outside, we would often play music to attract customers – but considering the hangovers everyone had today, it would likely stay quiet unless a customer put a coin in one of the many mini-jukeboxes that sat on the counter.
The office was reserved for staff to change into our uniform; a white dress shirt, apron, black bow-tie, and white hat. No bigger than a walk-in closet, the office had a tall row of shelving and a desk with a small television on it to the left, two chairs and a whiteboard to the right, and a mirror on the far wall.
“I thought I gave you the day off?” Jo asked as she followed behind.
“I’m not going to stop living my life just to avoid him, Jo,” I replied, buttoning up my shirt and pulling my white apron over my head. “And I don’t want you to say anything to him. If he wants to be a jerk, that’s entirely his choice. Stay out of it. Please.”
“Fine,” Jo sighed and disappeared back into the diner, leaving me to clip on my cheesy bow-tie and little boat shaped cap.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I smirked. I always felt silly putting on the uniform, but I had so much fun working in the diner with my friends, listening to old music and pretending we were in a simpler time. My stomach turned, hoping it would still be the same as before.
I began searching through my makeup bag, pushing passed my makeup tools and a few Special Effects products to pull out the eyeliner. Popping the lid off, I leaned in close to the mirror, but stopped when I saw Wyatt standing behind me in the reflection.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he stood in the doorway, keeping his distance from me.
My heart started to beat faster, and I hated that the butterflies were back and more alive than ever. I continued drawing on my eyeliner, ignoring his compliment.
“I tried to call you last night…” he said, looking concerned.
“I was busy, Jo wasn’t feeling well.”
I couldn’t help but notice how miserable h
e looked, and my heart sank when I realised he must feel sorry for me.
He feels bad for breaking this poor girl’s heart. I hate that. I’m not a victim, I’m not some poor girl. I’m strong and capable, and I don’t need anyone’s pity, least of all his.
I was about to tell him all this when he stepped into the room and slid the door shut behind him.
“I want to explain… what you heard. Last night,” Wyatt started, his shoulders stiffening.
I quickly finished my liner and threw it back in my makeup bag, wanting nothing more than to get out of that tiny room.
“You don’t need to explain anything,” I interrupted. “I totally get it. I thought you were a nice guy; a genuine, kind hearted person. Clearly, I was wrong.”
I could tell by the way his eyes dropped to the floor that I had wounded him, but I pushed passed him and slid the door open anyway, walking out into the diner to start my shift.
Even though it was only the four of us in the diner, the tension was thick.
Wyatt reeked of guilt, while Jo and Ben gave him the cold shoulder and smothered me with over-the-top kindness.
When my parents died, I became very familiar with pity. I know exactly what it looks like, complete with sad frowns and awkward silences. But nothing compares to the look in the eyes of someone who feels sorry for you.
It’s a swirling mixture of sympathy, sorrow, and relief. Relief that it’s not them going through something so terrible, so tragic. I swore I would never see myself in the reflection of those melancholy eyes again.
Needing some fresh air, I volunteered to take the trash out to the dumpsters, which sat in the alleyway down the end of the block.
Picking up two full bags of rubbish from the bins in the kitchen, I carried them out into the stairwell, avoiding all eye contact on my way passed Wyatt, Jo and Ben.
Grey and cold, with concrete stairs leading down into the dark basement, I always found the stairwell to be rather eerie.
Two trolleys sat on the concrete landing, by the double doors that opened up onto the street. I threw the bags into a trolley and pushed through the doors, light filling the stairwell as I made my way outside.
Darlings of Decay Page 95
