Page 71 of All the Ugly Things
“You do it wrong and I’m telling Judith. She might really kick you out of here and not allow you back.”
“Pretty sure I can sweet talk her into it.”
I laughed. It clawed from my throat before I knew it was coming, so foreign to my ears, and when I stopped, Hudson was grinning at me from ear to ear.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because Judith is hard as nails and scarier than the meanest inmates I ever met. No one can sweet talk her into anything.”
“We’ll see. I’ve got a way with women. They love me.” He winked at me.
I looked down at my napkin pile to hide the heat rising on my cheeks. I’m sure women did love him. When I Googled him, I saw pictures. Plenty of them. Of Hudson in suits and tuxes and swim trunks with nothing else. I wasn’t sure which image I dreamed of more since then, but both had made an appearance late at night.
Not willing to share that thought at all, I clamped my mouth shut and focused on menial tasks until most of the tables left and the table of birthday boys seemed to be done.
“Anything else I can get for you all?” I asked while I cleared their plates. Surprisingly, they’d stacked their garbage and napkins on their plates, not leaving an enormous mess for me.
“No. Just the check, thank you.”
“No problem. Split three ways?”
The brown-haired guy pointed his thumb at his chest. “I’ve got this.”
“Okay. Be back then.”
As I turned to leave, that sensation of being watched pricked at my spine and I frowned.
Eyes ahead.Don’t look.
I shook it off. They were only a couple years younger than me and staring at my ass. No big deal. I had to learn how to get used to it.
Still, it unnerved me enough that my hands trembled while I dumped their dishes and wiped off the tray. I printed out their check and delivered it to the table.
It must have been their age. Maybe their similarities to guys I would have known way back that caused me to ask, “You guys have a sober ride home?”
Brown-haired guy lifted a finger. “That’d be me. I haven’t been drinking.”
Yeah. And I’d heard Josh say that one or eighty times, too. “Sure?”
“You offering?” Drunken Matt slurred again, slapping the table like he’d made a great joke.
“Dude. Shut up.” His friend shoved his head to the side.
Brown-haired guy wasn’t smiling when he replied, “One. Hours ago, I’m in charge tonight as their older, more responsible friend.”
Relief washed through me.
“Drive safe then.”
I took his card that he slid into the bill envelope without looking and came back to the counter to ring them up.
“Do you always do that?” Hudson asked, voice low. Thick with something I couldn’t place.
“What? Request a sober driver? Sometimes.”
Usually when they were young and had their life in front of them. More commonly when they weren’t jerks to me. I had no problems ordering a taxi for anyone or requesting they called an Uber. Not that they ever listened, but I at least tried. Once, I called the cops on a particularly drunken and obnoxious table. They could barely stand by the time they left the diner, much less drive. I still hoped they’d been busted and spent time drying out.
I delivered the card and the signature slips. Birthday boy was now singing another silly kid song and playing a sloppy game of what looked like patty cake with the guy across from him.
