During those first few weeks, I worked every shift imaginable so that I would be versatile. I worked short shifts and long; weekends and weekdays; opening, closing, and swing shifts. I was trained to close and got that down too. It really didn’t take much. Because of the changing shifts, though, I didn’t get to work with Scott as much as I would have liked, but I did see him some. And he soon relaxed. He wasn’t as big a dick as he had been that first day.
I also met David, a guy who became a good friend. He was a year or two older than I, but he was fun to joke with and pass the time with when things in the restaurant were slower. I found out after a few days that he was also good friends with Scott. He didn’t seem to care too much for Jim, but he never said why. I also met a waitress named Carla who was sweet, but the cooks hated the wait staff. Ah, well. I’d already broken a cardinal rule—typical Casey behavior. And, just like there were only male cooks (except for yours truly), there were only female wait staff. I asked Ed about it and he said he would have no problem hiring a waiter, but no men who applied at Bob’s wanted to wait tables. “So why’d you hire me as a cook?” I asked.
“Because I needed a cook right then and there, and you wrote on your application you would wait tables or cook.”
“I did?” Ed nodded, then shook his head. More than once, he’d told me I should have been born blonde.
Over time, I started to fit in well with the cooks. There were eight of us altogether, not including Ed and the night manager who would sometimes cook too. Most of the guys were fun to hang with. I also met Jim’s wife Julie. She came to the restaurant two or three times a week checking on Jim. The two of them would often start arguing. I hated that, because it made me feel uncomfortable.
I started realizing how much I was starting to like Scott when, one day, he was joking (and maybe flirting) with a young waitress named Wendy. She was a single mother with a little girl. I’d seen her flirt with Scott off and on, and I wondered why he was breaking the cook’s code. Maybe they were involved or maybe they’d been involved in the past. I wasn’t sure, but I needed to make sure I wasn’t stepping on anyone else’s territory.
Whatever the case, Scott seemed to relax around me. He joked, but his unusual sense of humor took some getting used to. In fact, I wondered if maybe he’d been joking on that first day when he’d trained me, and I’d just been too stupid or hypersensitive to appreciate it.
On the thirty-first day of my employment at Bob’s Southern BBQ, David slapped me on the back. “You’re not a virgin anymore,” he said. David was a roly-poly kind of guy. His brown eyes should have been bigger than they were for the size of his head, but he smiled so much, they looked natural. He was a tall guy too and made me feel tiny when I stood next to him.
I grinned. “Haven’t been for a long time, pal,” I said, giggling, and he scooped me up in his arms and twirled me around.
Ed came around the corner into the kitchen. “All right, you two. No shenanigans. You’re going to break something.”
David set me down on the ground as Ed continued walking the length of the kitchen. He lowered his voice and said, “Yeah, what’re we gonna break in here?”
He had a point. The plates were tucked away on shelves that would have been impossible to reach. He would have had to stand on a chair and twirled me, and even then I didn’t think he could manage to pull it off. There didn’t appear to be anything else breakable in that kitchen of stainless steel.
“So anyway…” David said, a conspiratorial tone in his voice, “I think we should celebrate your raise and the fact that you made it.”
I laughed again. “Big frickin’ deal.”
“It is, actually. Us cooks know…you won’t make it a week if you’re no good. You’ve passed the test, Casey.”
I smiled and felt my chest swell with pride. Yeah, yeah, yeah…so it was just a fuckin’ cook’s job, but it felt pretty good. And the people there were starting to feel like family. I can’t explain why.
Yes, there was Scott too, but nothing had happened between us. Yet.
So getting over my divorce was turning out to be easier as I started settling in to my new life. Winchester might have been just a town, but I started despising it less the longer I lived there.
David was a big part of that. He and I discovered we liked the same music (hard rock), the same movies (we quoted lines from The Hangover constantly), we both smoked (rare in today’s world), and we made each other laugh—a lot. Anyway, on my one-month anniversary (Ed told me that I would, in fact, see a raise on my next check), we decided to have a few drinks. David still lived with his parents, so we decided to drink at my place. We wound up renting The Hangover because even though we loved the movie, we’d never watched it together. David joked that we were going to have a hangover the next morning if he had his way, all while filling my glass with more vodka. After the movie was over, David imitated the various waitresses at the restaurant. He was scathing…but funny. He managed to capture all their mannerisms and annoying habits but he made them laughable.
I’d been laughing so hard my abdomen ached. David sat down across from me on the floor. He was in front of the coffee table, drinking a beer, and I sat on the couch, leaning my forearms on my thighs. I’d had way too much to drink. Without warning, David asked, “So…what do you think of Scott?”
The question threw me off, especially since I’d been drinking. As though in slow motion, my mind rattled around my memories of the evening. Had I said anything, even inadvertently, that might have communicated that I had a crush on Scott? Had David caught me checking his friend out? I took the safe route, one designed to give me more time to think. “What?”
But David was relentless and didn’t miss a beat. “What do you think of Scott?”
Now I had to stall. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Well…he’s a nice guy. He makes me laugh, and…”
“And?”
I furrowed my brow. “And I need another drink.”
David poured more vodka into my glass. “And?”
What the fuck? He was like a dog with a bone and three times as relentless. I swallowed a huge gulp of vodka quickly, and its heat rewarmed my throat and esophagus immediately. “Why do you want to know? What could this possibly have to do with you and me?”
“Well, Scott’s my friend too.” I closed my eyes, smiling; then my head started spinning as the liquor started taking over my body.
“Okay. Well…I was gonna say he’s good looking, but I think he already knows that.”
David laughed. “I knew it. I knew you liked him.”
What? Were we in middle school now? I stopped myself from jumping David’s shit, though, because I knew he was getting as drunk as I was. I supposed I could go easy on him. “What—are you a matchmaker now?” But I couldn’t help myself. I felt my eyes squint, getting hard and sharp, and I leaned over the coffee table, grabbing David’s collar at the neck. “Don’t you dare say a word to him or I’ll kill you.”
“Geez, Case. Fine.” He laughed and took another swig. Then he grew serious. “I just worry about him.”
“Well, don’t worry about me then. I think you need to worry more about Wendy.”
David looked incredulous. “Wendy?”
“Yeah, Wendy. She and Scott seem to be pretty chummy.”
David’s mouth curled down but he didn’t ask more questions. “I just…worry about him.” He took another sip of vodka. “You know we’re gonna be roommates starting next month, don’t you?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, we got a little place on the north side of town. Anyway, Scott’s never had a lot of luck with women.” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and felt my mouth curl into a sneer. “Oh, he can find ‘em, no problem. But his relationships never go anywhere. He’s been used a lot.”
“Used? For what?”
“Don’t laugh. The last girl he dated only went out with him to make some
one else jealous. As soon as she got what she wanted, she dumped him. And, see, to Scott, women never do anything wrong. It was either his fault or this other guy’s.”
“He tell you all this?” My teeth were starting to feel numb. I’d definitely had too much to drink.
“No. But Scott and I have been friends for years. You’re not friends with someone for as long as we’ve been without getting to know them pretty well.”
“What would he say about you, David?”
“Who knows? Probably that I’m an innocent, misguided little prick who needs to get a life.” I laughed, throwing my head back, and felt a wave of nausea. Oh, that was not good. “So…would you go out with him?”
What the fuck? He was playing matchmaker. The problem with that was I was starting to reconcile myself with the realization that Scott and I probably shouldn’t date. For one thing, we worked in the same section at work. Work relationships could be messy. At least if I’d been a waitress, there would have been some distance there. It didn’t matter that there was no work policy against it; I could foresee problems. More than that, though, I couldn’t read Scott. He was toasty warm one minute, icy cold the next. The guy I met on day one was the guy Scott was. He’d sneer and smile all in the same minute, leaving you to wonder if he was serious or playful or if he was just fucking with you. And I also figured it was way too soon after my divorce from Barry. I should probably spend a lot more time just getting to know myself as a single person again. Still…I felt some kind of magnetic draw towards Scott and, somehow, David had picked up on that. So he’d asked his question, and my stomach churned. Not at the question but because I’d been drinking way too much. So maybe David’s questions were middle school, but my drinking was so drunken college days. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” I said and ran to the restroom. Sure enough, up came all the contents of my stomach. Fortunately, it was mostly liquid. Yuck. Really attractive. Fortunately, in the short time I’d known David, I’d never felt the need to impress him. I could just be myself.
After throwing up, I was still drunk. It hadn’t helped a whole lot. I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth. As soon as I got back to the living room, I lit up a cigarette, hoping to get the rancid taste of stomach acid mixed with vodka out of my mouth. If I’d actually eaten something substantive that day, I might have been able to hold my liquor better, but it was too late to worry about that now.
“You okay?” David asked.
“Yeah. I think so.” I took a deep drag off the cigarette.
“Maybe we’d better call it a night.”
“Yeah, probably.” David stood up, but I said, “You’re in no condition to drive, David. You drank a lot more than I did.”
“I’m a lot bigger than you are. I can handle it better.”
I smiled. “You’re still drunker than shit.”
“Yeah…”
“You can sleep on my couch. It’s pretty comfortable.”
He took a deep breath. “Sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“No. Course not. Just let me get you a pillow and sheet.” I started to walk down the hall and asked, “Do you want a blanket too?”
“Nah.” I kept walking and he said, “Nice way to avoid the question, by the way.”
I racked my brain, trying to remember his question. Oh…before I vomited. He’d asked something about if I would date Scott. Without even looking back, I said, “I ain’t answerin’ that one, buddy.” Bad enough that I’d let the cat out of the bag concerning the fact that I was attracted to Scott. I didn’t need that information shared. Nothing would progress naturally—whether for good or bad—if there were a matchmaking friend involved. And David didn’t need to hear anything more. I was a little nervous that David might tell Scott all when he was sober, forgetting that I’d threatened him with death if he spilled the beans.
It wasn’t really that big a deal, was it? I mean…we were all adults, right? But if we were to even consider dating, I wouldn’t want that tainted by high school antics.
Maybe my problem was that I worried too goddamned much.
So David slept on my couch. He had the next day off from work, so he could stay at my place all day long if he’d wanted. I, however, wasn’t that lucky. I had to go in at four o’clock, so I tried to sleep as late as possible…to no avail. I got up between one and two and showered, but I was dizzy, had a headache, and still felt queasy as hell. And I was moving slowly. I thought I’d gotten all this juvenile behavior out of my system at the tender young age of sixteen. Guess not.
By the time I got to work, though, I was feeling considerably better but still a little out of sorts. David was feeling nasty and I told him he could stay as long as he needed, to just lock the door when he left. He nodded his thanks but didn’t say much. I moved a little more slowly than usual at work, but I managed to keep up with the pace. The night manager was on duty, but he was doing paperwork in the office. It was slow, so I managed to do fine without him.
Scott and Jim both came in at five, and both were acting pretty rowdy, joking with each other. Scott seemed pretty distant toward me, but Jim was obnoxious and overbearing as usual. I didn’t get Scott, though. He was acting almost like I’d done something to make him angry. I couldn’t figure him out. But that had been all I’d ever seen from Scott anyway—hot and cold. That was the main reason why a relationship with him would never work. I wouldn’t be able to tolerate someone whose emotions turned on a dime. I tried not to let it bother me.
At one point before we got hit with the dinner rush, Scott went back to the walk-in so he could restock the frozen hamburger patties. While Scott was gone, Jim said, “So David spent the night at your house, huh?”
What the hell? Jim was fucking psychotic, and this little episode just firmed it up in my mind. “So?”
“Oh…” He sneered as though he knew some huge secret.
“What do you mean, ‘oh’? We just had too much to drink, and he slept on my couch.” Jim acted like he didn’t believe me. He nodded his head and slapped an innocent look on his face…over the smirk. I wasn’t in the mood for his joking right now…not that I ever was. “He’s a perfect gentleman. You’re a perfect asshole. And it’s none of your business anyway.” No way was I going to tell him David was gay. I didn’t think David was keeping it a secret, but Jim was such a dick, I wasn’t about to give him any fuel to be even more of an asshole, and I certainly didn’t want him directing his psychosis at my new best friend.
But my little explosion just made him laugh. “Sorrrrrr-eeee!” Yeah, right. No matter how much he strung out the word, I couldn’t believe he had an apologetic bone in his body.
The rest of the night, the tension eased up some. We got slammed and could barely keep up, even when the night manager came in to help for a while. I was uncomfortable, between Scott’s silence and Jay’s knowing looks, and I just wanted to get out of there.
The next day, my mother called. She said Barry had called and asked if I would call him back. She also asked if I’d been looking for other work. I gave her a blow off answer but was glad for the reminder. I needed to swing by the Center for the Arts again.
I called Barry first. He was working, no doubt, and I was sure that’s why he didn’t answer his phone. But I just left a quick message. “Barry…Casey returning your phone call. Is something going on or did you just want to talk? Uh…take care, okay?” I didn’t leave him my number, even though I probably should have, but Barry had been obsessive off and on in the past. I thought it would be safer for me if he had to call my parents. He would be less likely to harass them than he would me. Besides, it gave my mom a good reason to check up on me.
I went to the Arts Center early in the afternoon before work. The director was able to meet with me and I explained to her that I was an artist who had recently moved to Winchester from Denver. “Well,” she said, motioning to an empty chair across from her desk, “we love to feature local art.” Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, but her big-boned features were muted.
“The biggest problem, Ms. Williams, is that our displays are planned out well in advance, and that includes themes for each show. I wouldn’t even be able to consider anything of yours until fall. But you might be able to join in the fun of that. In September and October, our theme is going to be tattoo art. Now, of course, we’ll feature the obvious. Tattoo artists will display their artwork as well as pictures of their art on flesh. But even if you’re not a tattoo artist, you can be included in the display. Do you have any paintings or drawings of tattoos?”
“No, but I could. When would you need to see them?”
“Sometime in August.” It was May now. I thought I could have something done by then. So she had me fill out a contact form and promised to call in August. She said she couldn’t guarantee a spot in the show but definite consideration. That made me happy, so when I went into work that evening, I was smiling.
It had been a busy day, Ed said, and he needed me to do some prep work. They’d used up almost all the LTOPs at lunch. Ugh. That meant I had to slice tomatoes and onions, and even though slicing them with the big meat slicer made each individual piece uniform, it was boring, tedious work. But that’s what I got paid for and, I reminded myself, I was getting a nice raise for it. So I got the vegetables out of the walk-in and started fixing a tray of hamburger garnishes.
Two waitresses, Wendy and another older woman, were coming inside after taking a break but were involved in a conversation, either oblivious to my presence or they just didn’t give a shit. Wendy was the one girl I thought stood between me and a chance with Scott…if I chose to pursue him. So when I realized they were talking in hushed voices and it involved a guy, I couldn’t help but tune in. I acted like I was just working, minding my own business, but my ears were working hard.
The older waitress was responding to something Wendy had said just as they’d entered. “Yeah, he’s really good with kids.”
“When he saw my Jenny last year at Ed’s birthday party, he played and played with her. Some kind of card tricks. And I’ve seen him with babies. He’s excellent.”
Then Kiss Me Page 4
