Page 61 of Unbelonging
Where their makeup was flawless, with just the right shade of lipstick and the barest hint of color, my own makeup was too loud, too bold, and too much. My lips were too red. My eyelids were too blue. And my face was a little too pale, if the bathroom mirror was any indicator.
Unfortunately, it was the look required of me – of all the girls actually. Most of the time, I didn't mind too much. But tonight, with Brittney and Amber, I minded.
I minded a lot.
I also minded that they'd slept with Lawton. The last thing I wanted was to look at them, talk to them, or certainly serve them. But what I wanted and what I needed to do were two different things.
They were watching me openly as I moved toward them, with my ballpoint pen in one hand and my tray in the other.
Their eager, predatory smiles, not to mention the fact they'd asked for me specifically, told me all I needed to know. This wasn't about getting good service. And it wasn't about the food or the atmosphere. No. This was about making me pay, and not just for the last time I'd waited on them.
This was about Lawton giving me a ride home and his odd refusal to remember Brittney's name. It was about knocking me down from some imagined perch to watch me squirm under their stiletto-clad feet. And if they knew anything about the other night, it was also for me getting them kicked out of Lawton's birthday party.
But I'd been bribed handsomely to do this, and I refused to regret it. I'd made my proverbial bed. Now, I just had to lie in it. Eventually, they'd leave, and I'd be done with them. And if I were really lucky, I'd never have to see either of them again.
I arrived at their table determined to make the best of it.
"About time you made it out here," Brittney said.
I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that there was some truth to what she said. Under normal circumstances, I'd have never kept a table waiting that long. But nothing about this thing was normal, and it seemed silly to pretend otherwise.
But pretending was exactly what I'd been bribed to do, so I plastered on a stiff smile as I placed the square beverage napkins on their table. "Sorry for the delay," I said. "Can I get you a drink or an appetizer to start?"
For the longest time, neither girl answered. Then, Brittney pursed her lips and said, "Is that it?"
"What do you mean?" I asked. Were they waiting for some kind of apology?
Brittney rolled her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be funny or something?"
I felt myself swallow. Were they really expecting the whole sassy waitress act?
"Yeah," Amber chimed in. "If we wanted a regular, boring old waitress, we'd be eating at Denny's."
"Come to think of it," Brittney said, "how comeyou'renot working at Denny's?" Her lip curled as she gave me a long once-over, starting at my over-teased hair and ending somewhere around my bobby socks. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable there?"
I grew very still. Ihadworked at Denny's, in fact, for six months my senior year in high school. My fellow waitresses had been single Moms and women whose husbands or boyfriends worked as cooks, construction workers, or not at all. There'd also been kids like me saving for college, and others my age who weren't what you'd call college material.
But they'd all had one thing in common. They had to take a lot of crap, and they worked their asses off for modest tips and a meager paycheck.
I studied Brittney's unblemished hands and perfectly manicured nails. It was pretty obvious she'd never been burned by bacon grease or scalding-hot coffee. In spite of what she seemed to think, that didn't make her better than those waitresses. It only made her luckier.
"Earth to waitress," Brittney said in a loud, biting tone. "Anyone home in there?"
Oh, someone was home, alright, and she wanted to slap someone silly.
But I wasn't going to screw this up. The last time I'd waited on Brittney, their drink tab alone had been astronomical. If I didn't want to be stuck paying it, I'd need to pull my head out of my ass and quick.
I knew exactly what they wanted. They wanted to get a rise out of me. They wouldn’t be satisfied until I flipped out or started crying. If I did both, they'd be positively orgasmic. I squared my shoulders. No way I'd be giving them the satisfaction.
Giggling, Brittney said loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear, "Look everyone, I think our waitress fell asleep."
"We might have to poke her or something," Amber said in a loud stage whisper.
"Good idea," Brittney said. She craned her neck and made a show of looking around. "Anyone here got a stick?"
Standing at their table, I was gripping the pen so tightly it should've snapped. But I kept my mouth shut, refusing to give them the reaction they so obviously craved.
"From the look on her face," Brittney said, "I know where a stick is." She grinned at Amber. "Go on, I'll give you three guesses."
