Page 30 of Beyond the Stroke

“You heard me.”

Alice ignores our back and forth in favor of examining Summer’s wrist.

“Oh, goodness. Well, are you able to finish your shift? If you need to rest, surely, we can cover you.”

Even with Alice’s offer to cover Summer’s shift, I know that’s not what Summer wants. She won’t get paid if she goes home. After the mermaid cosplay debacle and now her insistence to work, it’s obvious she needs the money.

“No. I’m fi—” Summer starts, but I quickly cut in.

“That’s why I’m here. To help. If you and Summer will allow me.”

I glance toward the patio where multiple people have their phones up, taking pictures, possibly even recording this moment. Alice follows my gaze.

“And how do you two know each other?” Alice asks, curiosity spilling over her features.

“We don’t,” Summer is quick to announce.

“Not exactly true.” I give Summer my best charming smile. “We met the other night. And again, today.”

Alice’s eyes widen. “O-oh, I see,” she stammers, her cheeks blushing a deep crimson.

Summer’s eyes bulge like she’s hoping her pupils will reach out and strangle me.

Did that sound like I was implying Summer and I hooked up?

“She was cosplaying as a mermaid at a children’s birthday party. I helped her out of her mermaid tail.”

I don’t think that’s any better. Oops.

“Uh-huh.” Alice’s conspiratorial smile makes me think she doesn’t believe me. “Serving and busing only, Summer will still need to take orders.”

Then, she walks off, fanning herself with an order pad.

I turn to Summer again to apologize, but she’s already walking away, so I follow in her wake.

He’s so hot.

Dude’s stacked. I wonder how many calories he eats in a day.

I bet his swimmers are good swimmers, if you know what I mean.

Does he work here now?

Some not so quietly.

“Rory Shields, will you marry me?!” is shouted from a table of women in the corner enjoying what appears to be a ladies’ dinner.

“You’re already engaged,” her friend announces loudly.

“I know but he’s one of my hall passes. Warren wouldn’t mind.”

I offer a practiced smile as I pass. Being “on” in public is second nature. My parents drilled that into me early.

Smile. Be charming. Be perfect. But tonight, I don’t want perfect. I just want to help Summer.

“I apologize for the wait,” Summer says when she reaches the table whose food I’ve been holding hostage.

The table of three is a woman in her mid-forties and her two teenage sons. “I think this special delivery is worth the wait.”

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