Page 33 of Saving Helena

Helena

Maddox was right. The Odd Duck called later in the day and said they heard I was interested in waiting tables. They’d had someone quit and needed an extra hand, which worked well in my favor, so I wouldn’t ask too many questions.

The diner was one of the few places in Haverboro where you could get a meal 24/7, which also meant that I couldn’t be too picky about the waitress shift I ended up getting. The graveyard shift meant I’d end up with plenty of truckers and bikers. They generally tipped well, even if they were a little handsy. Working at the Open Road meant I’d had plenty of experience with serving, so I was well-prepared.

I was heading out the door when I spotted Whitney at the bar. He raised an eyebrow, “Where you headed, girlie? It’s kind of late.” He looked pointedly at the clock over the bar. The bar was packed and loud, with music pumping and members laughing.

“I got a graveyard shift at the Duck.” While I wouldn’t say I got the job alone, I knew my waitressing skills were nothing to sneeze at. I could certainly hold my own, and my references were good.

“Does Maddox know?” It was Dimitri who spoke, his face in a concerned frown.

I could feel the weight of their gaze on me, Whitney’s curiosity, and Dimitri’s disapproval mingling in the air like a storm. I straightened my spine, refusing to let their judgment shake me.

“He knows,” I replied, my voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “It’s just a job, and I mentioned it to him yesterday. About the Duck,” I added the last part, remembering at the last second.

Dimitri’s eyebrows shot up even higher, disbelief etched in his expression. “Just a job? You think Maddox won’t care that you’re slinging hash and flirting with customers all night?”

I bristled at his insinuation; my pride stung. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. It’s not like Maddox and I are together anyway.” My cheeks pinked, and I could feel the flush creeping up my neck. I was unsure how to qualify what Maddox and I were, but I could flirt if I wanted to. Even if we were together … well, it wouldn’t change me having a job of some kind.

Dimitri’s frown deepened, his arms crossing his chest in a protective stance. “You don’t need to do this, Helena. We can take care of you. This isn’t the smartest move for you to be out there right now.” He looked at me meaningfully.

Cocking my head, I looked at him in puzzlement. He loathed me yesterday and now said the club will protect me. What was with the drastic change of heart? Either way, his words struck a nerve, igniting a spark of contrariness.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I shot back, my voice rising with each word. I can take care of myself.” Given my current situation, this was blatantly untrue, and by the small laugh he gave, he knew it, too.

Whitney sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’re making a mistake, Helena.”

Maybe I came to stay at the club for a little respite; that wasn’t a lie, but I was capable enough to work and could make my own decisions. “I can figure out some of my shit,” I muttered, turning away from them and striding towards the door.

“Helena, wait!” Whitney called after me, but I ignored him, the determination in my steps echoing my resolve. I needed to do something. My plan in life never involved “being taken care of.”

The drive to the Duck wasn’t too far, although it was barren in the dark. The Open Road was farther out than I’d like it to be at this time of night. Borrowing one of the club vehicles to go to and from my shift had been a good call from Maddox since walking to the Duck wasn’t a practical plan. The Toyota I grabbed keys for was smoky inside but otherwise tidy except for a lone gum wrapper in the console.

I arrived thirty minutes ahead of my shift, pushing the doors open into the warmth of the diner. The Duck had changed hands a few times in my lifetime, but it was always a restaurant. This was the first time I thought that it had been a twenty-four place, though. It was a good call. Now, it was decorated with a neon sign and the ‘Odd Duck’ plaque in the window with an iconic cartoon duck with one leg — it always made me laugh.

Even now, at nearly eleven o’clock, the place was crowded with customers and the sound of clicking silverware. Going to the counter, I slid onto one of the few empty stools.

“Hi’ya, missy, what can I get for you?” The younger woman was pretty with bright red hair and green eyes, her cheeks red from the exertion of the diner. She was definitely the person who I’d talked to on the phone. Her name tag said ‘Daisy,’ but I had expected someone older. She couldn’t have been much older than me.

“Daisy, right? I’m Helena, your graveyard waitress.” Her eyes brightened, and she hurried around the counter.

“Awesome, I’m so glad you’re here! Come with me. Let me introduce you around. Thanks for coming; you have no idea how amazing it is that you’re here. Like, thanks so much.” She talked a mile a minute as she pulled me around to the kitchen. “I need to introduce you to Vito. Now, don’t be too upset when he yells,” she whispered. “He seems grumpy, but he’s a big softie.”

Nodding, I allowed her to pull me forward. If there was one thing I was used to, it was men who were blustery but big softies.

As Daisy and I stepped through the swinging doors into the bustling kitchen, a commanding voice cut through the clatter of pots and pans. "Daisy!" it boomed, demanding attention. "Orders are up, chop chop!"

I froze momentarily, not expecting the sight that met my eyes. Behind the sizzling stove stood what I could only assume was Vito. Tall and imposing, he commanded the space with his presence. His frame was solid, his shoulders broad, and his muscles rippled beneath his white apron’s fabric. Tall and wide with dark brown hair, a hint of salt and pepper at his temples only added to his rugged charm. He was undeniably hot.

Daisy nudged me with her hip, a mischievous glint in her eyes as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. I cleared my throat, refocusing my attention.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get them. Vito, this is Helena,” Daisy said as she reached into a cupboard and pulled out a t-shirt, eyeballing me. “The new waitress. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Vito said automatically as he plated ham and eggs. She can’t be worse than the last one.”

“Nice to meet you, Vito,” Taking the t-shirt from Daisy, I ignored Vito’s comment. I’d be better than the last one. I was a good waitress. It was bright red with a one-legged duck on it. Pulling it over my head, I knotted it just under my boobs.

Vito glanced up from his cooking, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in my appearance. “Well, well, well, look who we got here,” he said in a voice that held a hint of amusement. “A new face joining the ranks, huh?”

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