by Vivian Ward
“You got it. I’ll be right back with your order,” I say.
Dying of embarrassment, I head back to the kitchen and give Gary, our cook, the food order before heading back out to the counter to help Jo wrap more silverware.
“He’s cute,” Jo whispers.
“I know, right?” I pick up a set of silverware and begin placing them inside the napkin. “He’s been that way ever since high school.”
“Did you and him ever—,” she eyes me with an all-knowing grin on her face.
“What? Us? No. Never.”
Her gaze deepens as she cocks her head, like she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m serious,” my eyes pop open as I try to convince her. “We were never a thing. Not by my choosing,” I add.
“Why not?” Jo asks.
“Let’s just say that Chase’s family comes from the right side of the tracks and mine doesn’t.”
“What does that mean?” She asks. “You weren’t a bad kid. Were you?”
“No, not like that. I mean his family always had money and we were always dirt poor. His sister is a big snob and he,” I look over at him and watch him play on his iPhone. “He was way out of my league.”
“Oh,” Jo nods.
I know she understands where I’m coming from because she’s told me stories about how her family didn’t have money because her parents had 10 kids—5 boys and 5 girls, in that order. I don’t know how anyone would have any money with 10 kids unless they were a celebrity.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “So it was never meant to be. Instead, I ended up with the lovely Garrett,” I say with a bit of snark in my voice.
“Right, because he was a wonderful catch,” Jo and I both laugh.
She’s the first real friend that I’ve made since mine and Garrett’s nasty divorce, and I’m so glad that I met her.
“Hey, yo!” Gary yells from the kitchen through the window. “Food’s up!”
I glance out to the dining room at Chase who also heard Gary’s announcement and quickly grab his plates of food from the window and carry them out to his table.
“Here you go,” I say sitting down his plates of food. “And I’ll be right back with more water for you.”
“Thanks,” he says, wasting no time digging into his eggs.
Chapter 2
Chase
Melanie looks so good. She’s definitely filled out quite a bit since high school.
She’s probably the only woman that I know who could wear that ugly ass mustard color and still look hot in it.
I haven’t been to this greasy spoon diner in probably four or five years, but after I worked out this morning, I had a taste for it.
Figuring that it was carb day, I thought I’d stop by and I’m glad that I did.
Melanie was always one of those cute girls in high school that you liked to look at but you never talked to because you live in two different worlds.
You know the type. She was cute, always surrounded by her own little group of friends in her own little bubble, and totally untouchable.
As a jock, I would have caught so much shit for dating a girl like her since she wasn’t a cheerleader or anything, but I always had a thing for her. She was always so nice, so approachable, and she seemed so innocent.
I’d heard that she was going to go to school for something—I can’t remember exactly what—so I can’t imagine why she’d be working in a dive like this.
“And here’s your water,” she says as she delivers another glass.
She filled it completely full and the ice sloshes around in the top of the glass as condensation rolls down the red, bumpy plastic cup.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
Unable to reply due to the enormous bite that I just took, I offer a weak smile and nod as she walks off.
She goes behind the counter with the older woman she works with and busies herself with napkins and silverware while the two of them talk. I eavesdrop on their conversation as I pretend to text on my iPhone.
It’s not hard to do.
That’s one thing I’ve always known about Melanie. She’s never been a great whisperer. She always got in trouble in class for whispering to her friends because everyone could hear her so the teachers would catch her.
“You never did tell me why you’re going to have to get a second job,” the older woman says.
Melanie looks at her and does it with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I’m so far behind on all of my bills; like ALL of them. This place has been so dead that I’m hardly making anything and I’m still trying to pay down my credit cards from when I had to fix my car. I’m even behind on my house payment.”
Her coworker frowns and shakes her head.
“Oh, honey, that’s not good at all. Will your friend be able to babysit for you? If you work two jobs? Can you afford to pay her for all those hours?”
Melanie shrugs her shoulders.
“I don’t know but I’ve got to try.”
“You should go after that bastard for child support, especially with all the hell he put you through. Take his ass to court and really sock it to him.”
The old lady balls her fist and waves it through the air with that last part about socking it to whom I assume is her ex. It surprises me that she has a kid; you couldn’t tell from looking at her. Her body looks hotter than it did in high school.
“No,” Melanie says, catching me looking at her so I quickly glance back down at my phone. “I can’t do that,” she lowers her voice a bit more but I can still hear her.
“I’d rather not involve him in anything we do. The farther away he is, the better off Cam and I both are. I don’t even want him to remember that we exist.”
“I know what he did was wrong but that’s still his son and he needs to be supporting him.”
I can’t believe some jerk would dash out on Melanie and their kid. The guy sounds like a complete douchebag, and here she is working in this greasy spoon joint, killing herself to make ends meet but can’t.
If I ever had a kid, there’d be no way in hell that I wouldn’t see him or her. I also wouldn’t let the mother of my child struggle like this—even if things didn’t work out between us for whatever reason.
My dad always took care of our mom and showed me how a man treats a lady. I can’t even imagine what she must be going through on her own as a single mom.
The old woman places her hand on Melanie’s shoulder.
“And you didn’t create that baby alone. He needs to pay—and probably see his son as much as you don’t want him to. I’m not saying that you’re in the wrong or anything but that boy needs a daddy.”
“Well, maybe if he wasn’t busy chasing 19-year-old girls, he could be chasing around his three-year-old son. It’s never been my choice for them not to see each other. That was his choice. He decided to leave and never come back. He decided that his floozy girlfriends were more important than the family he created. He’s the one who deserted us.”
Ouch.
I feel horrible that she’s struggling while I practically live on Easy Street.
My life has always been easy, though. My father owned The Pink Pouch—built it from the ground up and turned it into a very successful gentleman’s club.
Because of his success, my sister and I always had the best of everything. We wore designer everything, had all of the latest gadgets, and never went without.
Everyone knew Chase and Abby Taylor. We were the cool kids—we set the standard at our school.
It was kind of cool that everyone knew who I was and wanted to talk to me or hang out with me, but at the same time, I hated it.
Sometimes, all you want is to be just like everyone else. I always felt like I was held to some sort of standard so I was always hesitant to do things—like settle in a relationship.
In all honesty, it’s probably one of the many reasons why I’ve never been the relationship type of guy. All of the girls flocked to me, and a lot of the gu
ys hated me for it, but that didn’t stop them from hanging around me to chat with the ladies.
And I’m not complaining. The attention was nice and I dated a lot but I could never really get into anyone, you know? It was like I felt like I was always being judged, plus a lot of the girls were superficial—unlike Melanie.
They were the popular girls, the ones who were too good for everyone, always had the best of everything—just like my sister and I—and wanted to stake claim to me. They all wanted to be the girl who could tame me, but it wasn’t happening.
I busied myself with sports. I participated in football, wrestling, and baseball. As soon as one season ended, I was signing up for the next season’s sport.
Yep, I was always athletic and I miss it, but that’s why I work out at the gym. Well, part of the reason why I work out at the gym.
The other reason I stay in shape is for the ladies. Nobody is going to date someone who’s out of shape so I stick to a gym schedule. I also have to keep up appearances for the strip club that I now co-own with my sister since our father passed away.
I’ve finished with one of my plates when Melanie makes her way back over to me with an awkward smile on her face.
“Can I take that for you?” she asks, holding her arm out.
I look around and notice an elderly couple getting up to leave and it appears it’s just her and a few coworkers here.
“Actually, can you sit with me for a minute?”
“What? Why?” She asks.
I shrug my shoulders and kick the chair out from under the table, sliding it over to her.
“To catch up,” I say, shoveling a bite of food into my mouth.
“I can’t. I’m working,” she says, fidgeting with her waitress apron.
“There’s nobody here,” I say, waving around the restaurant. “And I think your friend can wrap silverware on her own. Have a seat.”
The woman behind the counter chuckles and nods as she removes the full basket of silverware from behind the counter.
Reluctantly, she takes a seat opposite of me at the table.
“So. What did you want to catch up on?” she asks.
“Nothing in particular,” I say. “How did you end up here? I thought you were going to school for business or something?”
Her eye cast down at the floor and her cheeks turn a light shade of crimson as she pretends to remove something from her fingernail.
Okay, I never said that I was great at small talk. It’s something that I need to work on and I know it.
“Yeah, I was but I ended up having a change in plans.”
“Oh?” I say, scooping a bite of eggs from my plate. “Like what?”
She seems reluctant to tell me anything, and I don’t blame her. It’s not like we were friends in high school or anything, but I know that I can help her and make her situation better.
“Look,” I quickly add. “I know it’s not like we talked much in high school but that was years ago.”
“It was a long time ago,” she agrees. “Probably too long ago, but we were both busy with our own groups of friends.”
I nod, acknowledging the truth. Rubbing my hand along the back of my neck, I pretend to smooth out my hair.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know why you’d care or why you’d want to know.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m not trying to pry. I was just trying to be friendly.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It’s my ex. I’m just not used to a man asking about me. I know you were being nice.”
She cocks her head to the side.
“I got married,” she pauses and smiles, “had a son, am now divorced and work here.”
A little light laughter escapes my throat.
“That’s it? That’s your whole story?”
“Yep,” she nods. “My whole story.”
“Hm. What’s your son’s name?”
Out of all of that, the mention of her son was the only thing that she smiled about.
“Cameron, but we call him Cam for short.”
That beautiful smile spreads across her face at the mention of his name again. It’s very obvious that she loves that boy.
“I see. Cute name,” I smile and tip my glass to take a drink of water.
An ice cube comes tumbling out of the glass and goes right up my nose, making my choke on my water and causes me to spill some of it on the front of my gray hoodie.
Melanie bursts into laughter.
“I am so sorry,” she says, running behind the counter, grabbing a towel. “Here, you can use this. Are you okay? Need me to get you more water?” she offers.
I laugh and shake my head no.
“I’m good,” I dry my shirt off a bit more. “Thanks.”
After I dry my face and hoodie, she sits back down with me and it feels good. We feel like two old friends.
“What about you? What have you been up to?” She asks me.
“Not much. I just work all the time.”
“You just work?” she asks suspiciously.
“Yep, just work.”
“No wife? Kids? Anything?” she asks.
“Nope. Single. I spend all of my time working or at the gym.”
She nervously shifts in her chair and pretends to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.
“What do you do? In your spare time?” I ask her.
“Oh, I don’t have a lot of spare time. I raise Cam alone so I just work my 8-hour shift here, go pick him up, feed him dinner, give him a bath and put him to bed.”
“And then what do you do? Once he’s asleep?”
“Not much, really. I read a lot, or sometimes I’ll watch TV but there’s usually nothing good on.”
“Nothing good? With as many channels as there are now, how could you possibly be bored?”
She doesn’t answer and just shrugs her shoulders.
“Listen, it was great chatting with you but I really should be getting back to work. Do you need anything before I go?”
“No,” I rub my stomach. “I’m pretty full, but here.”
I lean out of my seat and remove my wallet from my pocket and take out my card as she picks up my empty plates.
“Oh, I can’t take a tip from you,” she says, pulling my dirty dishes closer to her chest.
“It’s my business card. Here, take it.”
I stretch my arm, holding the card out for her to take.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asks.
“Come to the address on the card. I can get you a job that pays a hell of a lot more than what you’re making here.”
She narrows her eyes me, doubtful of what I’m telling her.
“Doing what?” she questions.
“Working as a cocktail waitress.”
She’s still hesitant to take the card as if she doesn’t believe me.
“Look, it’s an easy gig. You just serve drinks and there’s plenty of business.”
“What makes you think I want to be a cocktail waitress?” she asks.
I look around the empty diner before eying her mustard colored uniform.
“As a single mom, you need to make more and work less. Come see me and I’ll get you hooked up.”
I stand from the table and drop a couple of twenties on the table—more than enough to cover my breakfast and leave her a nice tip—before I begin making my way toward the front door.
“Could I work nights?” she calls after me.
Turning around to look at her, she’s clutching a dirty dish towel against her chest with my business card in her other hand.
“It’s only for nights,” I say.
She smiles as her shoulders drop in relief.
“I’ll think about it,” she says, biting her lip.
“See you soon,” I say, pushing the door open as I walk out into the sunlight.
Chapter 3
Melanie
“You’re never going to believe what happened this morning,” I say to Ann as I sit Cam�
�s bag on the table.
She’s hunched over her dining room table with all of her cake supplies laid out as she concentrates on squeezing tiny stars of icing around the bottom of the cake that she’s working on.
I wish that I had half the talent that she does. I’m so jealous that she can sit at home baking cakes while I have to go out to make my living, especially since she doesn’t have any kids.
I’m actually very lucky to have met her because she’s reliable, cheap, and probably the best babysitter in the world.
She and Cam are practically best buds. They watch cartoons together, run errands together and she’s so good to him that I couldn’t possibly ask for a better babysitter.
“You won the lottery?” she finally asks as she places the last star on the edge of the cake.
“Pfft, I wish! I need a miracle to happen right now.”
“Why? I thought you were happy to be getting this second job. You look great by the way; love your makeup!” she says, glancing up at me for the first time since I walked in.
I love doing my makeup, but today I tried a little something different. Normally, I just wear moderate makeup to the diner but since I’m going to be seeing Chase again, I put it on a little thicker and smokier as I got ready for my interview or whatever it is that I’m doing today.
I wish he would’ve given me more information about where I’m going, what I’m doing and how much I might be making. He didn’t even tell me if I already have the job, if I’m coming in to apply, who makes the decisions, or anything.
I’ve so nervous that butterflies were in my stomach all morning until the mailman came to the house. Now they’ve been weighted down with dread.
“Thanks, and yes I am excited about going to get this second job, but the mail came today.”
“Uh-oh,” she finally gives me her full attention. “What’d you get?”
“A disconnect notice for the electric bill. I just got the gas and water bill caught up. Geez, I can’t catch a break, can I?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asks, looking over the rim of her glasses as she gets back to decorating the cake she’s working on.
