PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Two

☼☼☼

Why were you so surprised

That you never saw the stranger?

Did you ever let your lover see

The stranger in yourself?

☼☼☼

Jaime's P.O.V.

May 30th 1997

I actually got a few hours of sleep last night, which for me, is rare. I guess that is one of the good things about the summer. Lon's was so busy last night that I actually couldn't wait to hit my mattress. Sleep and I aren't the closest of friends. In fact, I avoid it at all costs, only sleeping when my body absolutely crashes. Lon's is so slow during the off season I would barely call it work, so it is easy to stay up all night. I feel like I have checked out every book that could keep my attention at the Spoon Lake library. Though their selection isn't the most vast and my interests are slim, so that isn't saying much. I usually stay up playing sudoku until I go cross eyed looking at the numbers. I sign every puzzle I do with my initials, the date, and the time. Every book I finish, and yes I've finished a few, act as scrapbooks of my insomnia.

I felt like a new person at work because I slept well. I was moving quicker than usual, and doing random tasks without being asked to prepare for night two of hell week. I was going around to all the tables, counting the sugar packets to make sure each table had the right amount, double checking the salt & pepper shakers, and cleaning the ketchup bottles. We opened an hour ago and it was a December busy, meaning it was a July slow. There were about three couples scattered throughout the restaurant, probably here to eat greasy foods to soak up their hangovers just so they can do it all again in a few hours.

Jess was leaning on the bar rolling sets of silverware.

"How'd you do last night?" she asks me, not looking up from her task.

I laugh to myself thinking of how well I actually did and hoping tonight will be even busier. "Pretty well, I made over $400 in tips."

The roll of silverware she was dropping came clanging to the ground. She gaped at me and practically yelled across the tiny restaurant, "I'M SORRY FOUR HUNDRED? AS IN FOUR ZERO ZERO? FOUR HUNDRED AMERICAN DOLLARS?"

All the customers slugged their heads in our direction with looks that informed me, even if I had made four million dollars, it was too early and they were too hungover for Jess to be shouting like that. I give them a weak smile, hoping they'd go back to their piles of grease.

"Oh my god Jess please bring your voice down. I am not even hungover but I can't take it this early in the morning." I don't "do" screaming, and she knows this.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" she looks around at the near empty restaurant. "400 dollars!" she whisper-shouts at me. "How did you manage to make that much money in tips? I know you're one of the best here, but damn. The newbies made around two hundred, and I thought I was hot shit for making over 3. Seriously JJ, how did you turn that? Did Monica put up a pole in here when I wasn't looking?" She asked, with her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Very funny Jess. I should thank you actually."

"Me?" She points at herself with a rolled napkin of silverware.

"Yes, you." I snatch the poorly wrapped napkin from her hand so I can roll it properly. "That British dude with the long hair that was sitting in your section, the one you forced on me? He left me an extra $200. Guess he felt bad for harassing me."