Page 9 of I Would Die for You

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Nicole’s feet are on fire and if she could sit down and take the weight off them, she fears she’d stay there for a week. But there’s no time to rest; there’s still an hour left of her shift, with just enough time to grab a plate of Jim’s loaded potato skins before heading to her second job of the day. Well, she calls it a job, but technically she’d have to be paid for it to be a job.

“Are you all done here?” she asks a table of four, who have been acting up ever since they arrived three hours ago—the wine wasn’t cold enough, the meat not cooked enough, even though they managed to consume both with gusto. Now they’ve been taking up premium space for the past hour, without ordering a single thing, while a line of hungry diners, eager to spend, are queuing around the block.

“We’d like the steaks taken off the bill,” comes the retort, with a dismissive swish of a hand.

“But youatethem!” says Nicole, well used to this ruse.

The mustached man nearest to her places a hand on her behind. “We’re happy to leave a healthy tip though,” he says, raising his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

“You really don’t want to be doing that,” says Nicole, her contempt masked with a look of resignation.

“Isn’t it all part of theservice?” asks the man as he slides his clammy fingers down her leg.

“Jim!” she yells over to the kitchen. “We’ve got a hot one!”

A big, bearded man wearing a bloodied apron looks up from behind the counter, his eyes ablaze. He raises a meat cleaver in the air and slams it down onto his chopping board.

Nicole turns to the man with an apologetic expression. “You might want to explain to the chef over there why you won’t be paying for the food he’s so lovingly prepared for you.”

The man scoffs.

“Andwhy your hand is currently on his girlfriend’s arse…”

There’s a sudden whipping-out of wallets as the four of them almost fight to be the first to put money on the table.

“Much appreciated!” Nicole calls out, waving their five-pound tip in the air as they fall over themselves to get out of the restaurant.

Jim’s menacing look dissolves into the sweetest smile as he watches them go.

“Give me a sec and I’ll get you seated,” Nicole says to the next in line, a couple who don’t look like they’ll be giving her any trouble at all. She breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that it’ll make the next hour easier to deal with. That’s how she approaches her time at the diner—in short, bite-sized chunks that move her ever forward to what she really wants to be doing.

“Hey, sis!” comes a voice.

A smile plays on Nicole’s lips before she’s even turned around to see who it is—immediately followed by a deepening frown as she realizes it’s two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon.

“Why aren’t you at school?” she asks as her little sister hobbles in,supported by another girl of similar age. The question of why she’s being held up by a stranger can be asked later.

“It’s all right, Mum knows…” says Cassie, rolling her eyes at Nicole’s maternal glare.

“But Dad doesn’t?”

Cassie looks at her as if she’s mad. “Er,no!”

Nicole shakes her head in admonishment, taking the top chair from a stack and putting it down for Cassie to sit on.

“What happened?” she asks, bending over to take a closer look at Cassie’s foot; the second toe is clawed up and three times the size it should be.

“A car ran over it,” says Cassie, blithely.

“Acar?” shrieks Nicole. “Well, then it’s probably broken—itlooksbroken.”

“All the better,” says Cassie with a mischievous glint in her eye that Nicole knows spells trouble. “Because it wasn’t justanycar…”

Nicole looks at her questioningly before the penny drops. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” she says, with an air of exasperation. “This has got something to do with those boys, hasn’t it?”

Cassie grins.

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