Page 10 of Let Leaves Lay Where They Fall

“Yes. I’m going in at 11.”

“Eesh. Long shift.”

“I don’t mind. Nothing else to do with myself today.” He investigates his mug and sips. Too distracted for eye contact.

“I’m going to take Tommy some soup. I made it with leftover chicken from last night. Have some if you’d like.”

“I’m good. I’ll grab something at the restaurant later. Thank you though.”

A motorcycle revs big and growls down the street outside.

“You sure you’re okay?” Andrew breaks a somber pause.

“Yes, totally. Men are stupid, you know how it is.”

“He’s a fool darling.” Andrew shifts his body, lurching into Jamie’s peripheral, demanding visual connection.

Jamie yields, looking up from his coffee. Forcing a smile.

“I mean it. If they can’t see YOU for what magic you are, they’re not worth your energy.”

Jamie isn’t sure that’s true, but he nods agreeably. Andrew is stunning, sweet and a catch. If there’s a god? That bitch plays favorites.

Andrew rises from the stool. Places his mug in the sink and wraps one arm around Jamie’s shoulders. A tender smooch on his cheek.

He leans into the peck. The affectionate gesture does help lift Jamie’s mood. “Thank you, Andrew.”

“I better get going, before Tommy expires to the plague. The poor baby.” He sneers.

They laugh and the room feels less heavy.

***

A hot shower and fresh shave. The good pomade in his hair, a clean work uniform and he’s ready to wait on patrons for the next 12 hours. Wednesdays, in Autumn, are usually slow.

He trots down the stairs with a water bottle and kitty bowl in hand. Rosy greets him on the back stoop with a flurry of zealous “meows”. Purring as she gobbles down on the kibble. He pets her for several minutes before starting off toward the restaurant.

Young Colin is at the host’s podium, listening to voice messages through the phone. His hair freshly bleached within an inch of its life and gelled into a sculpted coif. He rolls his eyes and leans on one hip. Air clapping 4 fingers, adorned with glossy black nail polish, at Jamie jaunting in the door.

“Hey Jamie.” Sexy Sebastian pokes up from behind the bar. Dark hair, Betty Davis eyes and mocha skin. His black uniform is at least 2 sizes too small, stretching over juiced up muscles. He’s short in stature but massive in personality with a smile that has its own fan base.

“Hey Sebastian.” He moves through the kitchen where Hugo, the sous chef and Gregory, the head chef are giving each other the silent treatment while prepping ingredients.

The pair are constantly in a lover’s quarrel. It never affects the food though. Hugo once told everyone they have phenomenal make up sex. So that’s what the fighting was really for.

In the back office, Jamie ties a freshly pressed apron around his waist and drops a notepad with half a dozen pencils into the fuchsia pig silhouette embroidered pocket. He slips his timecard into a machine on the wall to print and record his shift start.

“Hey stranger.” A gruff voice greets from behind.

“Hey Petra.” Jamie twirls around. She’s a big butch woman with spiky purple hair, wearing the same uniform. Her sleeves rolled to show arms covered in tattoos. A variety of exotic birds nestled into lush tropical leaves. Wrapping her heavy limbs around Jamie and squeezing because she knows he’s not a hugger.

He’ll never admit he actually loves her aggressive Auntie hugs. “How is your Dad?” She’d been going to visit family in New Hampshire for the past several weeks.

“Dead.” She responds unreadable.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was a crotchety old bastard. Finally put out of his misery. I’m fine.” She smiles big.

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