Page 44 of Shar: A Woman Alone

“Morning, Crack. Piss the bed to get you out of it, orwhat?” Scribe grins over his mug at Needle’s comment.

“Fuck off. I thought you’d be busier than this.” I lookaround and the shop is spotless. I’ve seen some tattoo ‘parlors’ that were ashithole and the ‘roaches wiped their feet on the way out.

“It’s only eight-thirty, man. We’re not open for anotherthirty minutes yet. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Scribeasks, still grinning over his mug.

“Sharp has dumped all his day's tasks on me. Wants to knowwhere you are with hiring a receptionist?” Throwing myself into one of thetattoo chairs, I wait for what I’m sure is going to be a negative answer.

“Well,” Needle says, “we’ve had some interest since Shar putthe notice in the window, but no one that we were interested in hiring. They’veall been women, not surprisingly, and the last one was covered in tats. She wasprobably good looking before that, but her tats were some of the worst we’veever seen. They were hideous, Crack. You couldn’t let her be the face of atattoo shop.”

Scribe sits forward, still gripping his mug, as thoughsomeone is going to try to take it off him. “We’re not saying that we need somemodel to be the receptionist, but like Needle says, we need someone to be theface of the business, and no tattoos would be better than bad ones.”

“I get that, guys, but beggars can’t be choosers, if you’regetting dragged off the job every few minutes, or having to turn down work bynot answering the phone.”

The words are only just out of my mouth when the bell overthe door tinkles again. Looking up as one, we see a young woman enter and thenstop and look at us. When none of us speaks, she does a curtsy, spins aroundand curtsies again.

“Like what you see, gents?” Head tilted to one side, shewaits.

“Speaking for myself, yeah. I like it.” I’m not shy to lether see that I’m openly looking her up and down. She’s not my type, but she iscertainly worth a second, or third, look.

Her hair is short and white. Not blond, but white. She has afew ear piercings, but none on her face. She has a killer figure that wouldn’tlook out of place in one of those burlesque shows. She has curves in all theright places, and none are overstated. She can’t be more than 5’4” tall, yether proportions are perfect in every respect. Maybe I should reconsider mytype.

Jumping out of the chair, I walk over and offer her my hand.“My name’s Crack. What can I do for you on this beautiful, sunny morning?”

“Hi, Crack. My name’s Autumn. I’m your new receptionist.”

Deciding that I already like her and her attitude, I lookback at Scribe and Needle. “Well, guys. Looks like you’ve got an interview todo before your first clients arrive.” Smirking at them, they side-eye eachother and I can see that they are about to dump this on me. “No way, brothers.Your business, your decision. You’re not going to come back to me in a month'stime and try hanging me out to dry at church.” Giving Autumn a mock salute, Ihead out of the door and back to my hog. Looking back as I grab my brain box, Isee Autumn watching me from the doorway. If I’m not mistaken, she looks morethan a little interested.

Giving her no encouragement, I let my hog roll me out ofthere and concentrate on the road to the diner. My mind keeps wanting to wanderback to Autumn, though, which is distracting.

Arriving at the diner, still with my mind on Autumn'scurves, I again leave my hog where I can keep an eye on her and do the next ofSharp’s tasks. The place is pleasantly full, without being crowded. Seeing acouple of fresh faces among the servers, it looks like they’ve been busy withrecruitment. Taking a seat against the side wall, where I can still see my hog,I wait for a server to come over.

The server that approaches me is tall, and I mean tall. I’m6’2” and she can’t be far off 6’ herself. Her hair is in a ponytail but reachesa long way down her back even though it’s wrapped in one of those hygiene netthings. She is too skinny for my taste, though. There’s nothing to get a holdof, or to keep me warm at night. Hiding my thoughts behind a smile, I see hername on her badge states, Sharon.

“Good morning. What can I get for you today?” Her smilemakes me smile without thinking. “You’re quite handsome when you’re notscowling or deciding someone's not your type. If we played poker, I’d read youlike a book.” Still with that smile on her face.

I burst out laughing and then apologize for being so rude asto be sizing her up.

“Hey, I understand that I’m more woman than most men canhandle, but when I find the man for me, God help him. He won’t know what's hithim. Now, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have coffee and whatever goes for a big breakfastaround here, with toast, thanks. I don’t suppose they call you Shar, for short,do they?” I ask her, thinking that there can’t be two of them, surely.

“Not unless ‘they’ want to speak falsetto for the rest oftheir lives, no. The name is Sharon, plain and simple.” Turning, she walks awayand I watch her long strides take her to the counter in only a few steps.

When she brings me a cup and a pot of coffee, she looks alittle sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were one of the owners.”

“Sharon, you stay just as you are. We don’t hold to airs andgraces in the MC, and I think the man that you decide on will want you to betrue to yourself. He sure as hell isn’t going to be some shy wallflower to takeyou on.” I look her straight in the eye as I talk to her and see her look rightback.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think. Your breakfastwon’t be long. Sourdough saw you come in and put extra meat on the grill.”Giving me a wink, she tops off my cup then goes off to her other tables.

When the breakfast arrives, it is fit for a king. I evenhave a piece of steak in there. Taking my time, I make sure to empty my plateand then go to speak to Sourdough. Never having spoken to him before, though Ihave seen him, I only have what Bank told me to go on. Supposedly, he’s a toughnut to crack until he decides if he likes you or not.

Staying at the kitchen entrance, I wait for him toacknowledge my presence and then introduce myself. Washing his hands first, hecomes over and gives me a good, strong handshake. Complimenting him on mybreakfast and then on the service I was given, I see him deciding if I’m tryingto butter him up.

“Credit where credit’s due, Sourdough. Everyone these daysis too quick to complain and too slow to compliment. I had an excellent mealwith excellent service. Are you up to speed now with servers? Sharon is at thetop of her game. The other new one, Madeline, isn’t it? She hasn’t stoppedeither since I got here.” Watching him puff his chest out a bit, I think I mayhave got myself into his good books.

“These two ladies only worked with Madison for a couple ofhours, and she was happy to let them loose on their own. I have two more on theopposite shift, and the guy, Sebastien, is as good as these two. Annmarie istaking a little more work from Madison. I don’t think Madison thinks she’sgoing to cut it. From our talks, it seems that Annmarie is one of those thatlikes to do the bare minimum, and as Madison is at the opposite end of thescale, I doubt it will be long before Annmarie gets her marching orders. I kepta couple of names on file from the interviews I did, just in case.”

“Well, it seems that we have a first-rate team in here, ifyou ask me. I’ll let Sharp and Bank know that you’re on top of everything,including a back-up plan.” Shaking his hand, I turn to leave when I see MayorGrant Stonewall walk in.

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