Page 18 of Life of the Party

“Take this. Take your pen, writeone garlic toast.” He did exactly that, talking deliberately, carefully, like I was slow. “Put it on the puck, like this…” He demonstrated, stabbing the order sheet roughly on the nail. “Then you wait, and I go back there and put it in the oven. And when it’s done, I bring it out to you. Okay?”

“Oh…okay…” I stammered stupidly.

“There’s no need for this.” He motioned between us with his hand. “There’s no need for us to talk. Ever. Can you remember that?”

I nodded, dumb with shock, my cheeks blazing red as I backed away from the window. Trying to put some distance between me and his sudden, unexpected scorn.

I could hear him chuckling behind the counter, and at the sound, my mortification turned swiftly to anger. Clearly, I remembered Grey at the club (I’d thought of little else since)…the smiles he’d given me, the way we’d laughed and talked together. Maybe our moments hadn’t been as special as I thought. Maybe I was that forgettable.

Either way, I’d show him. He couldn’t be such a dick and get away with it.

Quickly and impetuously, I stormed back to the counter, hastily scribbled:

“Screw you!”on an order sheet and stabbed it on the puck. Then I rang the bell beside it as hard as I could, the poor instrument protesting with a loud, tinny clang that instantly got Grey’s attention. He swung around again from the oven, and the moment my eyes rested on his handsome, perfect face, I’d completely forgiven him and wanted to take it all back. What was I mad about? I couldn’t seem to remember.

He kept his icy blue eyes on me, a small smirk on his lips, and reached to retrieve the order. His eyes scanned the page for what seemed like an eternity.

I grimaced at my own stupidity. Surely, this would make him hate me forever.

Grey raised his eyebrows, and then he glanced at me. His blue eyes were…surprised? Amused? I couldn’t tell. Then, he chuckled slightly, shook his head, and a smile broke over his perfect lips.

I didn’t want him to see my utter relief at his reaction. With an effort to seem completely calm and in control, I shook my head at him, as if the whole thing were totally immature and beneath me, and then stalked out of the waitress area.

I could hear Grey chuckling again from behind the counter. This time I didn’t mind.

The night continued. It was Charlie and I, alone—but I didn’t mind it. Charlie knew what she was doing, and albeit lazier than Sophie, the slower pace was a nice change. She was wearing a dress that night, low-cut and white with little pink flowers on it. Her wild blonde curls were half-up, half-down, her makeup done to a tee.

She looked gorgeous. I couldn’t help admiring her.

Charlie caught me staring. She smiled and outlined her outfit. “It helps with the tips.” She admitted. “You should try it. Not that you don’t look good. I like your skirt.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at myself, at my bright pink turtleneck and black pencil skirt. My dark curls tumbled down from a loose ponytail, and I wore comfortable, practical black skater shoes.

I smiled at Charlie, I couldn’t help it. I wanted to hate her, I really did, but she was so…beautiful. So damn cool. I couldn’t help but want her approval, her compliments.

“I like your style.” She confessed. Her pink lips smiled at me. “Sometimes, though, a little cleavage, it goes a long way.”

Near the end of our shift, I saw the proof. Her styrofoam cup was loaded with change, five-dollar bills mixed into the coins. Mine was full too, but nowhere near hers. I considered her advice. It might be worth it.

Grey ignored me the rest of the night. Well, mostly. Once, we happened to look up at the same time, and our eyes met, and he gave me the most genuine smile. It lasted only briefly before he went back to his normal stoicism, but I was overjoyed. Like I’d made some progress, however small.

When the OPEN light was finally shut off, the staff gathered out front again for coffee and cigarettes. I joined Riley at his table but sat so Grey was in plain view. He had changed into dark jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt; his leather bracelets were back, his hair messy out of the confining bandana. The breath caught in my throat just looking at him, even from afar. The guys with him were laughing, flicking their cigarettes messily at the ashtray. I was surprised to recognize both the guitar player and the drummer from Serpentine, Grey’s band.

“I didn’t know they worked here, too,” I whispered to Riley, motioning with my eyes. He turned briefly to look over his shoulder, popping his gum as he did so.

“Who, Zack and Alex? No, they don’t work here. They work at the lumberyard downtown. They’re always around, though, scamming free food and stuff. They’re in Grey’s band, and Roger doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Who is this Roger? I keep hearing about him, but I’ve never seen him. He didn’t even hire me. That Mark guy did.” I nodded towards the spiky-haired blonde trying towrestle a cash-out slip from the register. He was young, maybe twenty-seven or thirty, with a healthy obsession for eighties rock. Even now, Cheap Trick could be heard playing somewhere in the back of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, you’ll meet him.” Riley chuckled mirthlessly. “Roger always insists on meeting the new waitresses personally.”

I raised my eyebrows at his ominous words, too distracted to pry further. I was dying for a cigarette, and watching Grey and his friends smoke wasn’t making it easier.

“Go ahead, Zee.” Riley smiled. “You can smoke. It’s okay.”

“What are you, reading my mind now?” I chuckled, reaching gladly for my cigarettes.

“Nah, you’re just too damn predictable.”

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