Page 11 of Midsummer Phoenixes
Gray Shirt lifted his hand. “No worries. We’re not in a hurry.”
I served them the rest of their drinks and pulled out my notepad.
“We need a few things,” Blue Shirt said. “Some of them to go.”
“We can do that. I can take your to-go order after you’re done with your meal.”
“Great,” said White Shirt. “In that case, we’re having the chili cheese fries, the mushroom scramble on sourdough, the quiche, and the veggie scramble with baba ghanoush.”
“And two side salads with ranch and extra tomatoes,” Gray Shirt added.
“Coming right up,” I told them, jotting it all down.
For the next half hour, I was busy with my tables, same as Rae, who managed just fine without me. They didn’t just walk from one table to another, they swayed gracefully almost as if dancing.
When we met at the coffee machines, it was pretty much coincidence. They were spooning arabica into the left-most one.
“Why’s there no music?” they asked, drumming the coffee spoon against an imaginary drum. “These pants fit very nicely, and I wouldn’t mind moving my hips.” To underline the nice fit of the pants, they spun on the balls of their feet.
Because they hadn’t, I hit the button on the machine, setting it to brew before answering.
“Dwayne doesn’t like background music. He says it gives him a headache.”
Rae stopped turning and cocked their head. “What if it’s a customer’s birthday?”
“We don’t celebrate customers’ birthdays.”
“What? What if it’smybirthday?” Elias hollered. Vampire hearing, I supposed.
“You’ll have to bring that up with Dwayne,” I told Rae. I looked at Elias. “And you can have extra sprinkles.”
I got the puppy eyes again. “Maybe it’s my birthday today.”
He was half done with his milkshake, the cherry syrup making it look bright pink.
“Friend of yours?” Rae asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s also our web design person.”
That got Elias to suck on his straw smugly.
Rae crossed their arms. “Is there sound on our website?”
“No,” Elias said. “But there could be.”
I sighed. “There won’t be. And we have no music nor do we ever sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ Some people would consider that a perk.”
Rae pushed out their bottom lip. “But some people don’t work here. We do.”
“No music,” I said.
“But you’ll remember I suggested it?”
“I won’t.”
Dwayne—probably having overheard—interrupted with food that was ready to go out, and I took the triplets’ to-go order, basically another dinner for three and then some, and served several rainbow brownies.
From my side of the counter, I overheard the blond man bun with Atkins moan when he ate half of his brownie in one big bite, having foregone the dessert fork and simply using his fingers. Patrons that you could make happy this easily? Best reopening in my book.
