by Sara Hess
“What are you doing?” I batted away the napkin Landon was annoying me with.
“We’ve been attempting to get your attention but it seems to be focused on one hot little waitress’s ass.” Landon remarked mockingly.
For some reason Landon’s insolent remark about Carrie’s ass agitated me. “What was with the napkin?” I groused.
“Well, there was a little drool there in the corner of your mouth and I wanted to get it before it hit the table.” Landon laughed.
“Ha-Ha.” I not-laughed in return.
“You were staring pretty hard at her. Were you trying to discern what she’s got under that shapeless outfit? Her face in gorgeous, can’t deny that, but it’s hard to appreciate the rest of her with that loose-fitting uniform.” Evan commented.
“Too young,” I reiterated irritably.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Seth mumbled before gulping down the rest of his milk.
I gave him a glare. God, I hope she was too young. Hell, even if she wasn’t she looked way too sweet; the kind of sweet that makes your teeth ache.
Carrie was coming our way with a tray full of salads and drink refills. The tray looked heavy and I had an almost compulsive desire to jump up and help her with it…which was idiotic. I’d seen hundreds of waitresses carry heavy trays and had never felt the need to lend a hand before.
She set the tray down on the empty table next to us and started to distribute the salads and refills. There was no jewelry on her hands or wrists; slim dainty wrists I noted. She never once asked who had what salad just set the correct one in front of each person. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Lastly, she set a basket of bread in the middle of the table.
“I’m only allowed to bring one basket of bread unless you ask for more.” She waited expectantly with her head cocked at an angle and her eyebrow lifted. The one with the mole. Shit, that was hot.
“Is there any chance you could bring us more bread?” I asked before any of the other guys could get her attention. I wanted her focus solely on me, and fuck if that didn’t jolt me just a little bit. I was never the one seeking the attention. It was typically the other way around; me trying to detach myself from the clinginess. This chick was dangerous…and young…and sweet...don’t forget those I reminded myself.
She stared at me with those ice blue eyes and blinked. “Uh…okay. I’ll be right back.” She rushed away.
“I bet she comes back, sits in that empty seat, and cuddles up right next to you.” Landon teased with a small sneer.
“I bet she leans over your shoulder and oh-so gently rubs whatever she’s got underneath that shirt of hers against you.” Evan ribbed.
“I bet she drops the bread on the table and scurries away.” Seth mumbled around a bite of bread.
“I bet…” Noah began.
“Shut the hell up.” I grunted. “She’s too young.”
They all grunted in amusement around the food they had stuffed in their mouths.
Once again, I found myself unobtrusively observing Carrie as she walked around the restaurant. She stopped at a few other tables exchanging conversation and provisions before coming our way. She deposited the bread and kept walking leaving me with a feeling of…Was it discontent? Did I want her to rub all over me?
Noooo…she was too young, too young, I chanted.
I focused on the conversation at the table. We demolished the bread and our salads in minutes and soon after our dinners arrived. All our steaks had been ordered on the medium-rare to medium side so they didn’t have to cook as long.
Carrie carried the even heavier tray of entries to the table, bending at the knees to set it down. She had to be pretty strong to carry that tray full of food. She cleared the salad plates exchanging it for a dinner plate, again without having to ask who had what.
“So Carrie,” Landon leaned back as she swapped his plates. “How old are you?”
She gave him a surprised look. I growled from my seat, and her gaze swung my way in startled confusion.
“Excuse me?” She asked, walking past him to exchange Noah’s plates.
I shook my head at Landon. I really didn’t want to know how old she was. Thinking she was underage was working fine for me. It really was.
Landon ignored me. “We noticed that they serve alcohol here, but you look too young to be serving alcohol. Do we need to be concerned about underage servers and drinkers?”
I had to give it to Landon, he actually sounded troubled about the possibility. Carrie continued around the table to Evan.
“That is so admirable of you.” Carrie stated while continuing around the table to Seth without answering Landon’s question. I smirked at her evasiveness. Seth handed her his salad plate and took the dinner plate from her. She handed him another chocolate milk and water. He grunted a ‘thanks’ to her, and was that a wink he gave her? She gave him a small timid smile in return and I experienced a twinge in my chest that felt suspiciously like…jealously, but it couldn’t have been because I didn’t do jealousy.
“So, you’re old enough to serve alcohol?” Landon pressed. I gave him another glower.
Carrie walked up to me and I passed her my salad plate. Seth wasn’t going to one up me on gentlemanly behavior. She gave me a hesitant smile of gratitude as she handed me my dinner plate and our eyes locked together for a moment in time…man, what was with the corny terminology? Nevertheless, during that moment I felt my entire body prickle with astonishing awareness, sweat broke out on my back and chest, and my dick came alive with a vengeance. Her eyes widened slightly before she blinked and she turned her attention to Landon and I expelled a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding.
What in the hell was that? I’d never reacted that way to anyone before. Sure, my body took notice of beautiful, sexy women, but that wasn’t what happened just then. That was something entirely different.
“Have you seen me with any alcohol tonight?” She asked picking up her tray.
“Well, no.” Landon frowned.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” She said with a half grin. “Thanks for your citizen concern.” She bustled off, swinging around tables and people like she wasn’t carrying a tray above her head with dishes sliding about precariously.
“She told you.” Noah snapped his finger three times in the shape of a Z.
“Don’t do that, it looks gay.” Seth grumbled.
“And you have a problem with gay?” Noah asked in mock affront.
“Only when straight people imitate it.” Seth retorted.
The way Carrie had side-stepped Landon’s question with aplomb only seemed to be wetting my appetite for her more. I repeated in my head, ‘she’s too young, too sweet, poor, not your type at all’.
My gaze was following her again and I watched as an older woman wearing a disgruntled expression walk up to Carrie and motion to her. A frown crossed Carrie’s face as she walked back to the kitchen behind the woman. I went back to my steak making some comments to what the guys were discussing, but my gaze flickered constantly to the door she’d disappeared through.
Several minutes passed with no sign of Carrie but I did notice that the other waitresses were huddling together excitedly near the door she’d vanish through. One of them broke away from the group and headed in our direction.
“Hey guys. My name is Tammy. Is there anything else I can get for you; dessert, coffee, any other drinks?” She gave us a smile that we were all used to seeing. It said ‘I’m on the menu if you want me’.
Carrie’s smiles had been way better.
“What happened to Carrie?” I demanded in a much more forceful tone than was probably necessary. But shit, where’d she go?
An excited and uncomfortable expression flickered across the waitresses face. That was kind of a weird combination.
“She had an emergency and had to leave, but don’t worry I’m taking over for her.” She smiled widely.
“We’re all done here. Just bring us the check.” I pushed asid
e my disappointment. Because I shouldn’t be…disappointed that is. Carrie was just some random chick I’d probably never see again…Not unless I came back.
The smile slipped a little from her face. “Oh, okay. I’ll be right back with that.” She hurried away toward the kitchen and disappeared.
“Way to go scaring the poor girl. It’s not her fault that Carrie got called away.” Evan chastised.
“I could care less that she got called away.” I stated coolly.
I got a couple snorts and raised eyebrows that I blew off.
“What…I just didn’t like the look she was sporting. It was almost like she was gleeful about whatever Carrie got called away for. If she got called away for an emergency don’t you think that it would have to be something serious? Who’s happy about something bad happening to someone else?”
“I don’t know. I could be real happy if something bad happened to a few people. Matt, Trey and Curt come to mind.” Seth groused.
“That’s because they’re little shits. Carrie’s too sweet for anyone to dislike her.” I pointed out ruining my previous ‘I could care less’ attitude.
They all looked at me as if I was growing an extra head out of my nose. “What, you don’t think she’s sweet?”
“I don’t trust sweet and innocent.” Landon said with a contemptuous sneer. I frowned as his cynicism reared its head, but then he shrugged his shoulders. “But we’re talking about girls here. Carrie’s hot. Girls hate other hot girls. And who knows what’s going on behind the scenes of this restaurant. There could be a ‘real world’ vibe being played out that we don’t know about. We all get that you got the hot’s for her, but you really don’t know anything about her.”
“I do not have the hot’s for her. She’s too young, and way too sweet for what I want to do.” I objected.
“Keep telling yourself that jughead. And who said we were done here, I still want dessert.” Seth looked around for our substitute waitress.
“Pit,” I growled.
He growled right back.
Chapter Two
Carrie
I followed my manager, Lynda, into her office. I’d only been working here for two months, since after I had turned eighteen, and was still in my probation period. If she wasn’t happy with my work she could fire me for just about anything, and the fact that she was pulling me off the floor into her office wasn’t a good sign.
Motioning for me to take a seat Lynda kept the door open and went to sit down behind her desk. If she was keeping the door open than it must not be too bad I reflected. Bad news called for closed doors. I’d learned this at an early age.
Taking the chair in front of her desk I waited to see what she wanted. The expression on her face wasn’t a happy one, but Lynda only wore two expressions; mad and unhappy. This one looked like a cross between the two.
She leaned forward and I couldn’t stop my stomach tightening in apprehension at the look on her face. “I’ve just had some troubling news. Someone informed me tonight that you were involved in a murder investigation; that you were charged with murder.”
Strong fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight and a wavering pattern of dots began to consume my vision. Nausea was close at hand.
Lynda continued. “Now I wouldn’t just take someone’s word for this, so I went online and low and behold.” Lynda turned her computer monitor around to show me the articles she’d obtained.
The nausea was trying to work its way up. I swallowed and inhaled deeply, avoiding the monitor. I’d learned exercises for this; I wasn’t going to puke.
Lynda carried on her one sided dialogue. “This is you, right? It says that you killed your father. On our employee application it asks for felony convictions. Murder is a felony.”
My stomach and chest cavity constricted painfully. Thankfully, the vomit remained in my stomach, but white dots peppered my vision and by breathing caught in my throat. My lungs wanted to close up but I focused on breathing and was able to state hoarsely. “If you read further you would see I wasn’t convicted of those charges.”
A disgusted look flashed over her face. “They probably did some kind of special circumstance mumbo-jumbo because you were a juvenile; an innocent looking female juvenile.” She sneered.
I’d heard this so many times that it shouldn’t surprise me. All the facts of my case weren’t in the news articles because it hadn’t gone to court and the police hadn’t released a lot of the information to the press because I’d been a minor. My name hadn’t been released to the press, but it’s incredibly difficult to keep people’s identities off the internet.
“I still didn’t lie on my application. I wasn’t convicted of a felony.” I said hoping her stance would change because I really needed this job. I knew it wouldn’t though. I’d come across this attitude too many times.
Lynda sat back in her seat with a smug expression. I knew what was coming. “I’ve come to the conclusion that your work isn’t up to the standards of this establishment, so I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”
I gave her a defiant stare through my nausea. “I’ll be expecting my next paycheck in the mail.” She really had no right to fire me, but this job wasn’t something I was going to fight over.
I stood up and left without another word. There was a group of cooks and waitresses scattering and staring as I exited the office making my stomach clench more. She had probably kept the door open in fear that I would reach across the desk and stab her with my feather pen and hoped that one of her employees would save her. I wonder if she realized that not many people here really like her.
“Carrie?”
I was pulling on my coat and barely hanging onto my sanity when Jim, one of the line cooks, stepped into the break room.
“Hey Jim.” I acknowledged with a strained smile while grabbing my purse.
He frowned. “What’s going on? Lisa just told me you were fired.”
Jeesh, news certainly traveled fast. I nodded in confirmation making my way past him to the back entrance. I heard his footsteps behind me. Jim was twenty-three and had always been nice to me. I think he kind of liked me because he was always getting in my personal space and asking me to do stuff after work, but I’d been keeping my distance while trying to remain friendly with him. I wasn’t against making friends, but it was hard for me to get close to people.
“Jim.”
Both Jim and I looked back to see Lisa standing there watching us with a frown. Lisa liked Jim. I knew this because restaurant gossip was like wild fire, it spread quickly and there was no way to really stop it. She was also very obvious about it, just like she was obvious in her dislike of me. Most likely because of his friendliness toward me.
Lisa gave me a sneer. “Jim, you don’t want to be hanging around with her. I told you there was something weird about her and its come out that she killed her dad. That’s why she was fired.”
Jim twisted to look at me with an appalled expression. “Holy shit! Is that true?” He took a step back like I was contagious.
This was why I didn’t get close to people. My throat was closing up more so I wasn’t able to answer him. Instead I turned and rushed out the door. No one followed me, but then I wasn’t expecting anyone to. Flipping the coats hood over my head I grabbed the pepper spray from my purse and focused my attention on the half mile walk to the bus stop.
There was only a twenty minute wait for the next bus so that wasn’t too bad, and there was no snow on the ground which was an added bonus. Sitting down on the bench I took a deep breath of the cold January air to let it clear my mind and settle my belly. It was amazing what deep breathing could do as long as you didn’t pass out from too much Oxygen. I didn’t want to think about any of this until I got home. I didn’t want to take the chance that I would have a break down. It had been a while since my last crying jag, and there was a chance things were building up to explode.
The bus came and I climbed on taking the seat directly behind the driver.
There was less possibility in getting hassled that way. The ride home was twenty-five minutes and I found myself staring at the back of the bus driver’s head getting lost in the swirls of his curly gray hairs. They were vaguely reminiscent of the white caps I’d on occasion get to see when I could get over to the coast. The memories helped to isolate my thoughts from what happened earlier.
I exited the bus at my stop and walked the six minutes to my house. In the three years I’d lived here I’d never been bothered walking home, but I also never took the chance that I wouldn’t be. That was the reason for the pepper spray.
There was no porch light left on for me as I climbed the stairs to the apartment, and I didn’t expect there to be. Fitting my key in the lock I stepped silently into the kitchen area relocking the door behind me. It was dark except for the soft glow coming from the living room. The television. My mom always fell asleep in front of it. Tip-toeing into the living room I looked down at the sleeping face of the one person who should love me no matter what, but instead seemed to hate me.
I had vague memories of her being vibrant and loving at one time in my life, but the memories had become less frequent as the years passed to where I didn’t even have them anymore. I have only disjointed memories of what life had been like before that night four years ago; hazy pictures of school, classmates, teacher’s, relatives, and obscure images of a home before this one. It wasn’t like I had amnesia, everything was just…indistinct. It was like I was trying to call up someone else’s memories.
Whoever that person was the life she’d lived seemed agreeable so I wasn’t sure why the memories seemed so unattainable. I didn’t let myself worry a great deal about it however. There were too many other things to worry about…like finding another job.
I’d just started my freshman year at the University of Virginia, and instead of living in the dorms I stayed here so I could help take care of my mom. She’d gone steadily downhill since that night four years ago. Lately, she hardly gets up off the couch. At least when I was home she didn’t, but then I was hardly ever home. I hated being here. She blamed everything that happened that night on me, and even though I had pushed all thoughts of that night to the back recesses of my brain the emotional guilt and shame still lingered.
