Nothing But Trouble // Riff

Early Mornings

AN: This story begins before the events of West Side Story, but will eventually lead into them.

The sun was just barely starting to rise when Beverly made it to the diner. She took in a deep breath and prepared herself for the long day ahead. Sunday mornings were guarantied to be busy, and the fact that one of the waitresses had quit last week wasn't going to help. That meant it was just going to be her, Betty, the cook Jack, and the new dishwasher Michael. Her and Betty had both been working in the diner since they were young girls both desperate for a job. Betty wanted to have money to spend on things like fancy clothes and make-up, and Beverly had wanted to be able to help her mom pay rent. Since they were both so young the owner, Mr. Brown, paid them each half a wage since he figured the two young girls together could get as much done as one adult.

Now, years later, Beverly and Betty had watched many staff come and go, few able to keep up with Mr. Browns erratic scheduling and odd personality. He wasn't a bad man, but few were able to follow a conversation with him long enough to understand him. It didn't matter much these days though, Mr. Brown spent more time huddled in the apartment above the diner than downstairs with the staff.

Tying her apron around her waist and taking her place behind the counter Beverly greeted Betty with a smile and poured herself a cup up coffee, she new she would need it once people began to pour in for their breakfast. The rush wouldn't stop until after lunch, when people finally began to go off to do other things with their day.

Sure as the sun rise, people began to make their way off the streets and into the diner. She found herself pulled in every direction. Pouring coffee, counting change, writing down orders, carrying plates. This way, that way, she lost herself in the never-ending flow of customers. It was comforting in a way, the familiar routine of a Sunday at the diner.

That flow continued until it was suddenly disrupted by a group of boys walking in. She wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for the way the volume decreased.  It wasn't quite silent, but the loud conversations had died down to small chatter. She recognized immediately who they were, not by their faces but instead by their reputation. Nobody else could have caused such a disruption simply by entering the diner.

The Jets. Only four of them, but Jets none the less. And as much as Beverly wanted nothing to do with any of them, she knew Betty wouldn't be able to talk to them. Taking in a calming breath, Beverly readied herself, these were just people. They were around her age, probably did normal things outside of gang violence. She could do this. She would just treat them like normal people.

"What can I get you boys?" She asked, keeping a calm appearance. After she spoke and wasn't immediately dead, the customers seemed to decide they could all go back to talking as loud as they wanted. At least something was back to normal. She had no idea if this was the right approach, but she wasn't about to bend over backwards for some street rats. Even if they were the most dangerous street rats around.

The body in front spoke, "Mornin' doll, coffee and eggs for everyone, except Baby John here. He don't do coffee." He reached out for the youngest looking boy, and ruffled his hair. She nodded and set to work pouring coffee and putting in the order for eggs. "Hey, can I get some toast with that?" One of the boys shouted. She nodded in his direction and asked Jack to pop some bread in the toaster. About to bring the three coffees the table, she realized she hadn't found out if the youngest wanted something to drink. She decided that she would bring him orange juice, most people like orange juice so it seemed like the safest option.

Setting the four drinks on the table the boy, Baby John, looked confused. "Did I ask for this, I don't remember asking for this..." He trailed off. "You want me to take it back?" She asked lifting her eyebrow. He blushed all the way down to his neck and shook his head. "No, no, I actually wanted some but you just seemed so busy and -" He was cut off by the boy next to him putting his hand over his mouth. "He means thanks." He said giving the younger boy an eyeroll. She laughed a little shaking her head as she made her way back to the counter, just as she did Jack rang the bell signaling an order was ready. She grabbed the plates of eggs and toast and balanced her way over to their table.

The boys were arguing lightly as she set down the plates. "That's just wrong Diesel, ketchup is for a lot of things but your eggs are not one of them" One boy said with disgust. "Ketchup is what makes egg bearable, without it they smell like shit. Ice, back me up here!" The boy, Diesel, said. "Would you two shut it, the foods here." Ice said, gesturing to the plates on the table. Beverly pretended not to be listening in on the debate and carried on with her waitressing. "There you go boys, four plates of eggs, one with toast. Anything else?" She asked. All the boys shook their heads, too busy shoving food in their mouths to respond with words.

After awhile the boys finished off their meal, not a crumb of toast or a drop of coffee left. It was like watching a starving dog eat scraps. She almost felt bad until the reality of who they were came back to her as another boy stuck his head in the door and whistled. She recognized it as the Jets signal they used on the streets to call out to each other. She had honestly expected them not to pay, but to her surprise the boy they called Ice made his way to the counter and paid exactly what it was, not a penny short. Maybe not all of them were street rats.

You learn something new everyday.