Part 2 (2/2)
”Oh no, sir. I've got a real good memory for taking orders. My regulars like to test me.”
The ancient woman at the other end of the table sniffed and frowned. ”If you get our order all mixed up, we ain't leavin' you a tip.”
She was way too tired for this. ”That's all right, ma'am. I wouldn't expect one.”
The father smiled and shrugged in an ”old people, what are you gonna do, huh?” gesture.
She kept her own smile pasted on 'til she got to the order window.
When the food came up in the expo window twenty minutes later, she hoisted it all onto one tray and carried it out to the table.
Sara rattled off the order as she set the plates in front of each person.
”Chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli ca.s.serole, meatloaf with green beans and a salad-no croutons, no cuc.u.mbers, ranch on the side-bacon double cheeseburger with onion rings, T-bone with a baked potato all the way and...”
Once all eleven orders were in front of the people who'd placed them, she stepped back with her best service smile, barely suppressing a yawn.
”There we go. Everything look okay? Did I miss anything? Please tell me I didn't miss anything.”
She knew she hadn't, so she waited, enjoying the wide-eyed wonder on everyone's faces, including the old lady's.
This was the best part of her job. Waiting tables didn't offer a lot of intellectual stimulation, but she loved impressing people with the way she could remember every order, no matter how long or complex. It made her feel special. She took care not to demonstrate her extraordinary memory in any other situation, so she never attracted undue attention.
After the family had praised her memory, her service and the food, and she had refilled the drinks and checked the condiments, she left the check and returned to the terminal to run her sales for the day. Then she collapsed in a booth from which she could keep an eye on the table as she did her checkout.
She'd been on the floor since the breakfast s.h.i.+ft, and even though her feet were throbbing and her shoulders hurt, work had helped her not to obsess over Nash and whatever it was he wanted to talk about tonight.
Wendy slid in across the table from her and started her own checkout. The lull was ending, the old folks and early dinner crowd pouring in, and the next s.h.i.+ft of wait staff were already on the floor. Susan walked right by them, greeting Wendy but pointedly ignoring Sara.
b.i.t.c.h.
”How'd you do?” asked Wendy.
”Not enough for the way my feet hurt, but I made the car payment. And I'm doing another double tomorrow.”
”You going out with Nash again tonight?”
”Yes, but...I dunno. Last night we...” She stopped and shrugged, feeling oddly reluctant to talk about it. It would sound so pathetic-the way he'd shut her down after getting her so hot and ready-and she didn't want to hear Wendy warn her that he was going to tell her something awful.
”You what? Come on, tell me! Did you get you some hot, sweaty Nash lovin'?”
She laughed in spite of her worry and exhaustion. Wendy could always make her relax. They were second cousins through their grandmothers and had been best friends since birth. Sara could tell her anything.
Well, almost anything.
”No, we didn't do it.” She sighed. ”I thought we would. I'd already decided I was going to jump him, or seduce him or whatever, but then-”
Wendy waited a whole five seconds, and when Sara didn't continue, she reached across the table to grab her arm and shake it. ”But then what?”
”Then, nothing. We were eating dinner here, and Susan started talking about a bunch of people who got killed up in Wake Village-”
Wendy made a face. ”Yeah. That's horrible.”
”What, she told you about it too?”
”Yeah. She was all 'I'm not supposed to tell anybody,' so you know she's told the whole county by now.”
”I wonder if Dwayne knows Susan is a one woman public address system?”
”Who's Dwayne?”
”Bobbi's boyfriend. You know, the Bowie County deputy?”
”Really? I can't believe you remember stuff like that. We don't even know Bobbi.”
Sara froze, but only for a moment. ”I think Susan mentioned it last night.”
”Oh. Okay, anyway, what did she say?”
”Well, you know everybody's already convinced it was werewolves, right?”
”Right. But you don't think so.” Wendy was the only person who knew about Sara's fascination with s.h.i.+fters.
”No, I don't. Werewolves don't use weapons-or at least, it's real unusual. And I sort of said that out loud, without thinking, and Susan got all holier than thou on me, because you know she's a good Christian lady. I mean, she may be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Connie Robb's nineteen-year-old son when Connie goes to visit her mother-”
”She's gonna get her a.s.s shot one day.”
”-but she don't know nothin' about no werewolves, 'cause she's a righteous woman. And then the nasty b.i.t.c.h threatened to tell Grandma.”
”What?” Wendy slammed her tickets down and leaned across the table. ”She did not!”
”Shh!” Sarah hissed. ”Keep your voice down. She sure as h.e.l.l did. And I got p.i.s.sed off.”
”I guess so!”
”And- I don't know. The whole thing-the talk about werewolves, and then bringing up my family, and just...” She tossed her hands up to indicate her frustration. ”Anyway, I couldn't stay and finish dinner. We went back to my place and had a couple of beers.”
”And?”
”And we fooled around like a couple of Baptist teenagers, and then he said he knew I had to work a double, and let's get together tonight because he has something very important to talk to me about. But he wouldn't tell me what it is, even though he said it could make me mad. I don't know what the h.e.l.l it could be-he probably thinks I'm a freak and doesn't want to see me again.”
Wendy snorted. ”He wouldn't make a date to tell you he doesn't want to see you anymore.”
”What if he wants to break up with me?”
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