I swore, she could look so severe when she wanted, and yet utterly relaxed in others. Most of the time, she wore layered outfits—dark jeans, graphic tees, hoodies, and leather or army-style jackets—in a vibe that seemed far more 90s than now, but maybe that was just the nonconformist in her. She did wear shorts and make allowances for the heat, but not today.
While her look was understated, I admired the confidence she wore like a crown over all of it. If only I were half that brave. The thought was as much envy as it was irritation. Rachel and I had such a love-hate relationship. This week, we seemed to be in “love” mode. Next week, we’d probably be back to armed enemies again.
Whatever we were, though, I had to admit, I owed her. If she hadn’t told me the truth about the guys, I might never have seen it. In some of my darker moments, I wished I didn’t know. Living in delusion hadn’t been as lonely as this, but the truth was better.
The truth also led to me meeting Mathieu, so I would take what I could get. We stayed almost furiously busy through thedinner rush. Rachel lingered at the counter, working on her homework and swapping her shake for a soda.
She was still there near the end of my shift when Jake came through the door. The pressure in the room seemed to increase and turn the air almost electric, like a thunder boomer was rolling in. I had a big tub of dirty dishes in hand when my gaze locked with his for what could have been an endless eternity or a scant few seconds.
Looking away took genuine effort. Since I was almost done, I wasn’t taking new tables. Marsha, the manager was already on the floor, along with Zabra, the other waitress. The kitchen would be closed in the next hour. I just needed to finish my side work—most of which was done, and clean off any tables of mine that emptied before I left.
When I made it back out front, Jake had taken a seat at the counter right next to Rachel and they were glaring at each other.
“Hey, Jake,” I said as I stopped in front of them. “You okay, Rach?”
“I’m fine,” she said, a smirk curving her lips. “Jake’s just reminding me why I nominated him for jackass of the year in ninth grade.”
“Leave her alone, Jake,” I told him. It was as much an order as anything else and it snagged his dour look off of her and onto me.
“You’re off shift, right?”
“In a few, yes. I still have some stuff to do. If you want to order anything?—”
“I don’t want to order anything,” he told me. “I want to talk to you after you’re done.”
Groaning, I stared up at the ceiling for a minute. “I’m tired, Jake…”
“I can wait,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get home too.”
“I have a car,” I reminded him but he just met me stare for stare. Nothing about him said he was backing down on this issue.
“If it’s really an issue,” Rachel interjected. “I have a car and a taser.”
Jake cut a look at her. “Could you possibly just fuck off and leave us alone?”
“Jake!” I punched his shoulder across the counter, not that it fazed him. Hell, it barely moved him—big galumph. “Leave Rachel alone.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but it was Rachel who waved me off. “I’m not worried about him, Frankie. He’s just got a bug up his ass because you called them out on their bullshit after years of putting up with it.”
Another sigh tore out of me.
“You know what, Manning…” Jake’s voice had dipped into threatening territory.
“If you want to talk to me after my shift,” I said, cutting in. “Then you’re going to need to wait for me and stop bugging the customers, particularly the ones who are my friends.”
“Let him say—” Rachel started but cut off when I sliced my hand through the air.
They both glared at each other, then looked away wearing expressions that seemed more akin to someone sucking on a jalapeño-flavored lemon.
“Fine,” she muttered and Jake grunted. It was better than nothing, so I left them to finish my work.
Marsha caught me in the back as I slung a bag over my shoulder. “Everything alright, out there?”
“It’s fine. Jake just wants to talk and he and Rachel rub each other the wrong way.” That was the politest way I could put it.
“If you want me to walk you out to your car, we can shake them both off.” She would do it too. Marsha didn’t take shitfrom anyone. One of the best parts of working here was having Marsha for a boss.
“Really, it’s fine,” I repeated. “I’m just tired. Jake probably wants me to answer some message that I’ve ignored while I was on shift.”
