Page 4 of Shame

She sighs, shaking her head. “It’s okay, you’ve got stuff going on.”

“Where do you need me?” I question.

“Tyler called out—again, so we’re busing our own tables. You can take the other side if you want, but there’s three tables that need clearing and we’re about to hit lunch rush.”

“No worries, I’ve got it.”

I hurry over to the tables that need to be cleaned to clear them and wipe them down. In between bringing dirty dishes to the back, I refill some coffees and take some payments, shoving the tips into my left pocket so I know to hand it over to Fia later on.

The back sinks are piled with dirty dishes and pots and pans, but I toss my bins full of dirty plates, cups, and silverware in the small open space on the side, knowing there is nothing I can do about this now. The way Norman expects this whole diner to run on just three people is insane. The front has enough tables for four waitresses, and he only ever puts on two. And our bus boy, though I love him, is a seventeen-year-old stoner who cares more about smoking weed and his girlfriend than his job. I’m getting my job threatened for being late, but Tyler shows up only half the time and he still works here without any issue. Norman is such a jerk.

“I’ll do what I can,” Christian says after I let out a huff, hurrying back to the front.

Christian has been the grill master here at Daisy’s since it opened almost thirty years ago. His father was friends with Daisy, and I hear they even had a brief fling. I’ve been working here three years, and I’ve heard Christian argue with Norman many times about the way he runs this place, but Christian refuses to step up. Says he belongs behind the grill and not running the place. I get it. Still think the place would be better off without Norman, but what do I know? I’m just a waitress with a sick father and half a bachelor’s degree.

The bell above the door chimes, and a couple walks in, pulling me from my dark spiral. The good thing about this place is it’s always busy, so there isn’t much time to dwell on negative things.

“Sit anywhere you’d like!” I call out as I hurry to my end of the dining room with the pot of coffee to top off some more cups. On the way back, I hand off two more checks, bus the tables, and take the order of the couple who just came in.

The next three hours go much the same. It’s nonstop. My back hurts and my feet are aching. I need to invest in newer, more comfortable shoes, but I haven’t had time to go to the city. I can’t leave dad alone for that long—maybe not even at all anymore—and can’t afford to pay the nurse any extra. Taking him with me isn’t an option. The last time I tried that, the whole mall got shut down because he threatened to kill everyone inside. I thought we were both going to be arrested, but I was able to convince security and the cops that he has LBD—Lewy Body Dementia. At first, they thought I was lying, but I think they felt bad because of how stressed I was, so they let me go. Ever since then, I try not to take my father anywhere. But when I do, I bring the doctor’s paperwork with me to show his diagnosis in case something like that happens again. New shoes aren’t worth dealing with that situation. The shoes I have work just as well, they just aren’t so comfortable.

We go through a lull in customers, which gives me time to clean up the tables and hand over the tips to Fia that are hers from earlier. She thanks me, running a hand over her head asshe leans against the counter to breathe. She’s younger than me, twenty I think, and has been here about six months now. I don’t know her well, but she’s nice enough and a hard worker. There are only five waitresses total who work here, but I work with Fia the most.

“What time you here until, Cora?” she asks as she fills a cup with water to drink.

“Close,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Don’t you get tired of working doubles all the time?”

“Of course I do,” I say, grabbing the plates for table four from the window. “But I’ve got bills to pay and no one to help me.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, but I wink, not wanting her to feel bad for me. I don’t want anyone to feel bad for me. I don’t hate my life, it’s just a little hectic.

As I’m heading to the table to drop off the food, the bell above the door rings again.

“Sit anywhere you’d—” My words cut off when I see who it is, my cheeks instantly heating. “Sorry, sit anywhere you’d like,” I say a little quieter, then keep moving to my table.

The diner is a common place for the Merciless Few to eat. They don’t come here on a schedule or anything, but they come here often enough that it’s not strange to see them. We are the only diner in town, after all. But I didn’t get all embarrassed because it’s strange to see them. I got embarrassed because the man who walked in is the sexiest guy I have ever seen in my life, and for some reason, my brain short circuits whenever he showsup. Which isn’t all that often, at least not anymore. It’s the older guys who come in here regularly. Now that I think about it, haven’t seen them here lately either.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” I ask Betty and Bitsy, the identical twin grandmas who do come here on a schedule. They’re here nearly every day.

“I’m good, dear, but maybe you should finally ask the handsome hunk of meat out on a date,” Bitsy says with a knowing smile.

My cheeks heat even more at knowing I’m that obvious. I hate whenhecomes in when the twins are here because they do things like this. They have no shame whatsoever.

“I’ll think about it,” I say with a smile, then turn to head back to the window to see if there is food ready for another table. Bad idea.

The window is behind the bar, where the two bikers who came in are now sitting. They’re way too big for the stools, and hunch over the bar like bears. The tables aren’t much better, and the booths are comical—the guys are just so big they look like they need custom-made furniture.

I pause before going behind the bar, looking from the window where the food is, to Fia who is taking an order from a family of six down the end. I chew on my lip as I try to decide what to do.

Well, the answer is obvious. I need to put my big girl panties on and do my job. With my chin held high, I walk over to the window and grab the four plates that’re there.

“I’ll be right with you, gentlemen,” I say without looking at them. Looking at them is hard. I mean, it’s not hard to look at them, but it’s hard not to melt when I do.

When they come in, there’s never just one, which makes it much more intimidating. The two who are here now are both good looking, but there’s something about the rugged one that really gets me in a tizzy. They’re tall, at least six-three or four. Built like they could play catch with me without breaking a sweat. One gives off lion vibes while the other one is more like a house cat, but they’re both in the MF, so they’re dangerous.

They have the same dark hair and blue eyes. I think they could be related. If the house cat grew a beard like the other one, they’d look more alike. He’d have to grow his hair out more too and make it all messy like he just rolled out of bed.

“Can I get you anything else?” I ask, putting the plates down in front of the customers. “Ketchup, hot sauce, more coffee?”

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