Page 23 of Shame

I know their names. Everyone does. But we haven’t been formally introduced, and so I don’t wanna be rude.

“I’m Bitsy,” she says. “That’s Betsy.”

I hold out my hand, all awkward-like because of the table. “Shark. That’s Snapper.”

“Oh, what interesting names,” she says, shaking my hand. Hers is small, frail, and cold.

“Here you go,” Cora says, dropping the menu at the table. “Do you want coffee while you look?”

“Yes, please,” I say, and she heads off to get the pot.

“She’s got the hots for you,” Bitsy says in a hushed whisper behind her hand so only I can hear.

“Does she now?”

“Sure does,” Betsy adds with a head nod. “Been looking at you for months.”

“Months?”

“For fuck’s sake,” my brother mutters, running his hand down his face.

“That’s right. I always ask her every time I see you. I say, ‘Cora, when you going to ask that handsome man out?’”

“And what does she say?” I play her little game, knowing she’s getting a thrill out of this. Half the town will know about this by tomorrow morning.

“Well, it’s always something different. She’s busy. No time. Her dad’s not well. You know, the sort of reasons sheshouldwant to go on a date. Girl has no fun in her life. She’s young. She needs fun.”

Betsy nods all the while. “She could use some fun,” she says in agreement. “All young girls need that.”

“Here’s your coffee,” Cora says, putting it down in front of me.

“You still getting off at two?” I ask.

She blinks at me. “Yes,” she finally says, and I love that I make her speechless. Almost as much as I love the blushing.

“Great. I’ll be here.”

“Oh, really? Okay. I, um… yeah. Great.” She forces a smile, then hurries over to the window to grab a few plates that she delivers to a table.

I lean close to Bitsy and say, “That girl’s gonna love me one day.”

Her eyes get all watery, and I swear they fill with little hearts.

Chapter Eight

Cora

I understand wanting to split the shifts between the two busiest times of day—breakfast and lunch. Dinner is busy, but notasbusy. But having to change shifts at two has got to be the dumbest thing Norman has ever done. You know how hard it is to do that when the place is in a lunch rush? Damn near impossible.

Especially when there is a big, rugged biker man waiting by the front doors for you. Really makes things that much more difficult to get done because your brain keeps misfiring, thinking about all kinds of strange things.

Like him whisking you away on his bike. Taking you far away, to a place where everything is calm and relaxing. Where there are no screaming customers and dads calling you an alien. Where everything is beautiful and perfect, and he likes you and you like him. And you kiss, and get along, laugh and make meals together. Maybe even fall in loveand—

“If you don’t get your butt over there, I’m gonna snatch that man out from under your feet,” Fia says, nudging me with her elbow.

I snap out of my daydream and force a laugh, but none of this is funny. I’m too nervous. Not only because it’s him, but he’s with the other guy, too. His brother. They’re both so big and intimidating and handsome. I’m not made for this sort of thing.

Knowing I’m running out of time, because I only have so much time before I have to get home and relieve Irene, I put my big girl panties back on, grab my things, and walk up to Shark.

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