Page 1 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

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JEANNIE

“I need two specials,one with rye, and the other no pickles… claims he has an allergy. Who do you know has ever been allergic to pickles?” Jeannie chuckled, ripping the order sheet off her pad and shoving it in place as she exchanged a look with the cook.

Grabbing two red plastic cups, she took a deep breath, dove both arms down into the icemaker that she lovingly called ‘Frosty-the-Body-hider’ under her breath as she looked deep into the opening. Seriously, this thing could hide a body inside and was straight from the seventies – maybe older.

As the bell to the front door of the retro café chimed, she didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder as all of the employees yelled in unison – “Hidey-ho-grab-a-seat-bro…” and finished holding the two plastic cups under the fountain nozzles, filling both cups with soda before turning around… and frowning.

Dang it.

And I was having a good night at work,Jeannie thought glumly as she saw the man she was doing her best to avoid constantly taking a seat at a booth nearby. One of her booths,naturally. She was not surprised in the slightest because the twerp was watching her, and she knew it.

“Rex – I’ve got company,” Jeannie said quietly in the window, grabbing a stack of napkins while she balanced the two cups with one hand, looking at the cook pointedly.

“Lemme know if I need to call the cops again,” he said simply, wiping his hands on his apron like he was ready to throwdown or something. The man was in his seventies and loved this diner. He had his privacy and could play his music without being hassled about it, and everyone seemed to love him.

“Will do.”

“That man ain’t right in the head…” Rex muttered, going back to the fryer and yanking a basket up – and she smiled.

Rex was the most grumbly, sweetest person, and she knew for a fact he wouldn’t hurt a flea. He might talk a good game, but he was gentle as the day was long. Once they found a mouse in the kitchen, and he insisted on keeping the back door propped open so it could escape instead of calling an exterminator.

Mary, the owner, called the exterminator the next day. Chuckling, she saw Mary, who worked the bar of her café, give her a steady look, and Jeannie nodded.

The woman didn’t want any trouble, but shedidwant the money that the patrons brought in, and Jeannie understood that. The whole reason she took this job was for extra money. Extra money paid for her bus passes, her internet, her website maintenance, and her fumbled attempts to build a career of her own so she didn’t have to sling sodas, deal with handsy men, or work in some old-fashioned diner in downtown Seattle. No, someday she was going to manage to make it on her own and…

“Hi Jeannie,” her unwelcomed visitor said with a smile that reminded her of just how uncomfortable the next hour or so would be.

“Hey Jim, somehow you managed to seat yourself at my table once again,” she said politely, but there was a pointed edge to her voice. “How about that, huh?”

“Must be fate,” he shrugged and tossed her a smile.

“Must besomething,” she agreed simply, not meeting his eyes. “What can I get you?”

She had just finished speaking when the front door chimed. Like Pavlov’s experiment, the bell got her attention. She didn’t even bother to look up from her order pad as she yelled with everyone once again, in unison – “Hidey-ho-grab-a-seat-bro…”

“You know what I want, Jeannie.”

This time, she looked up as someone else sat down in her section. Her eyes met Jim’s, staring at him, realizing he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Holding his gaze, she casually spoke to the other patron, not looking away.

“I’ll be right with you as soon as this man orders his meal.”

“No worries, take your time…” the other person said, and something in his voice was calming, allowing her to draw in her breath, almost like it gave her the needed boost to shore up her defenses against the troll watching her.

“Jim, what can I get you to eat?”

“Well,” the disgusting man began, quieting his voice as he leaned toward her. She saw his slicked hair was hiding a receding hairline that was going to be impossible to hide soon, while his eyes stared at her like she was naked –and for the record– she was not nor would ever be in front of this creep.

Her uniform was a pair of jeans, sneakers, a white shirt that said ‘Hidey-Ho’ across the front, and a bright green apron that reminded her of Starbucks. She loved the pockets on the front because it was easy to keep from losing things and she froze as something touched her leg.

“I thought I’d take you to dinner first, but if you really want to know what I’d like to eat… it’syou, Jeannie,” he whispered –and every alert in her body flared at once, causing her to nearly puke on his greasy hair.

If someone had told her there was a tarantula on her leg, she would have had the same gut-reaction. She literally yelped, made a warbling sound, jumped in place wildly, slapping her leg – and him.

“Uh, look, buddy,” she blurted out, not bothering to hide her disgust and jerked her leg back out of reach, where he was already trying to touch her again. “You need to go – now. I’m not putting up with your crap anymore. Find some other woman to bother, go jump off a bridge, dive into oncoming traffic, or whatever floats your boat, sailor – but don’t youevertouch me or talk to me like that again!” she snapped hotly, thoroughly disgusted.

Jim, who had conveniently bumped into her at her apartment a week ago in the hallway, who ran into her at the grocery store two days ago, and who – again – justcoincidentallyran into her at Best Buy when she picked up a hard drive for her computer… offering to buy it for her. He came to the diner four times a week for the last month, sat in her section, and it wasn’t hard to put it all together.

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