His Muse

Chapter Two

                         Annalise

"Are you slow?" My boss, Marcus, asks holding up an empty coffee cup in front of my face. "What the hell do I pay you for if you can't keep fresh coffee in everyone's cups?" My face and neck heats up, burning bright red while he scolds me in front of every customer and coworker in this diner like I'm a child. I've never been more embarrassed, but at this point, I should be used to it. He yells at me like this all the time, he just usually doesn't do it in front of the customers. Most of the time, it's in the back of the restaurant, like in the kitchen or in his office.

"But I.." He immediately cuts me off with a glare. I was going to tell him that I didn't give the customer coffee because when I asked if he wanted any, he said no. But trying to reason with Marcus Kane is pointless. When he asks questions, he doesn't actually want an answer. When he fights with you, he doesn't actively want you to fight back. You sit, nod, and obey his every order, because if you don't, you'll never be able to get another job again. He'll make sure of it.

"Did I say you could fucking speak?" He slams the coffee cup onto the table, causing me to jump. Then, he points a finger in my face and backs me into the table. "I'm taking his meal off and putting it as your employee meal of the day. I better not see you eat a single thing." He scowls at me, watching me like I'm something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Dread settles in the bottom of my stomach. My employee meal is usually the only thing I have to eat for the day, without it, I'll go hungry.

"I told her not to give me any coffee, sir. Really, it's fine." The customer sitting next to us finally speaks up, looking completely stunned, and maybe even a little scared. You and me both, buddy.

"Thank you for the concern, sir. I'm sorry you received such horrible customer service today, your meal will be completely free. Have a good day." My bosses personality switches completely, his voice going from harsh and loud to gentle and sweet in seconds. His face doesn't change though; dark eyes blazing with anger, thick eyebrows turned down, wrinkly skin, gray hair, and a beer belly. He's exactly what you'd expect as the owner of a rundown diner with his stained shirt and overgrown beard. I hate him. He turns to me then, his whole demeanor snapping back to how it was before as he says, "No breaks today, either, you don't deserve any." He spits at me and walks away dramatically, not even giving the poor customer the time of day.

I wipe away the lone tear that escaped in frustration, angry at myself for reacting to his tantrum. I know he's being ridiculous, that he's just trying to get his anger out on someone and I happen to be his favorite subject, but I hate it when people yell at me, even when I know I don't deserve it. I push those feelings away and turn to the poor man who just witnessed our little showdown, smiling at him even though it's the last thing I want to do. "I'm sorry about that, sir. Have a good day."

The rest of my shift goes by in a blur of greasy food, the smell of coffee, and an ache in my feet. Not to mention the occasional feeling of being watched, and I'm not sure if it's my boss or my stalker. By the time I'm finally able to clock out and go home, I'm more than exhausted and hungry. I just need to go home to the boys, feed them dinner, get them in bed, and I'll finally have time to rest.

The house was given to me the second I turned eighteen, it's pretty beat down and small, but it's home for us just the same. My father signed me for the deed to the house on his will because he knew mom wasn't mentally stable enough, and it would just get worse after he died. He didn't know I would barely be an adult when it was given to me, he thought he would have years for me to mature before anything would ever happen to him. However, that wasn't the case. Luckily for him, I had to mature way before the age of eighteen, and by the time it actually was my house, I was more than ready to own it. There were many times my mom stormed in, demanding she owned the place and that we needed to leave. Actually owning the house gives me a sense of peace that she can't kick us out for real.