Pierce: My Heart

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In two weeks of staying with Darhl, Jake had knew almost all his customers by face. He wasn't good with names and often have difficulty remembering what name belongs to which face. But he knew who was a regular and who was not.

He loved California. Not as cold as New York, but the same energy. He was surrounded by friends that were like family.

Mr. Darhl was an old client of his father and the man had taken a liking to Jake when he heard he was going into law. He runs Bikers, a restaurant that serves fast food by day and stands as a bar by night. Twenty four hours service. Good working hours and nice workers. He treated them as his own children.

Although nothing hardly worries old Darhl. But Jake could tell he was bothered over the past few days as he observed his silent figure. It was the truck again.

The vehicle was old, yet the old man was not ready to let it go. It was a family heirloom.

Jake had gotten to work on it and dismembered most of the inner parts.

"Did you learn some sort of mechanical engineering at law school?" Mr. Darhl asked, leaning on the wall.

"You'd be surprised at lots of things a law student needs to be knowledgeable about," Jake joked, brandishing a spanner as he knocked on the battery again.

"She's old, son." Mr. Darhl said. An obvious point. "Treat her with care," he added.

"Did you drive this thing in a flood of water?" Jake demanded looking suspiciously at the battery again.

"I went to the countryside lately. The relative has a farm that is mostly flooded during the rain, maybe that's the reason, eh?"

Jake shook his head and chuckled. "This truck is old, Mr. Darhl. I'm surprised she could endure such stress."

"You'd figure out a way to bring her back I'm sure," the man said, strolling back inside.

Jake cleaned his hands and locked the garage. He was going to order new parts for the vehicle. There was nothing he could do to the old and worn parts. It was a miracle the vehicle took him to the countryside and back. But he didn't say that to Mr. Darhl, knowing it'd only increase his worries.

He rinsed his face and moved behind the counter. It was six, the day was quickly fading into night and Bikers was transitioning more into a bar than a restaurant. The dishes were packed and the tables were rearranged.

Lights came on. Jake had personally installed them the last time he came before going back to Brooklyn.

He was wiping the counter when a lady walked in with a fairly old man, about the same age as Mr. Darhl. She had every appearance of wealth around her. She removed her jacket revealing a nice blue dress that hanged closely to her figures.

Jake was the only one here, and he had to take her orders. Since New York, he'd try as much as possible to avoid wealthy people. They're unbearably rude and think the world needs to revolve around them. Besides, from experience, he knew every rich man or woman prefers to make innocent lower or middle class clean after their own mess.

Mr. Darhl appeared behind him and looked over at the woman Jake was staring at. "Beautifull, right?" he said.

"Not entirely," Jake replied, not taking his eyes off.

"She's a bit sad today," Mr. Darhl said. "That little one is one cheerful angel. She's a vip. So ask her to move to the vip section before taking her orders."

"Am I going to take her orders?" Jake looked at Mr. Darhl.

"The last thing she wants to see today is the wrinkled face of old Darhl," he replied. "I'm tired, son."