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For once in her life, Cherry had no desire to work the morning shift.
The liveliness and commotion that had once brought her so much joy was now giving her a pounding headache and if she had to play nice with one more cranky old man, she might just flip a table. To make matters worse, the diner was even busier than the day before, and to make matters worse than that, her parents were working.
Cherry hated working alongside her parents. Obviously, they owned the diner so they had to work sometimes, but they interrupted Cherry's. . . natural flow when she was waitressing. Her mom never seemed to be happy with the way that Cherry did things - just that morning, she'd chastised her about the way she handled a customer, the fact that her apron was stained and her uniform wrinkled, and even the fact that Cherry's hair was frizzy. Cherry couldn't remember a time when her mom ever had this many negative things to say about how she did her waitressing job - usually, she only got upset when Cherry tried to work overtime. Cherry's dad, on the other hand, was the slowest cook in the world. At least George had the decency to pump out orders fast but when Mr. Merolia was in the kitchen, orders got backed up and it only seemed to stress Mrs. Merolia out more.
Cherry did, however, have a hunch about why her parents were so on edge.
The day before, after dropping a distressed and weepy Iona back at her house, Cherry returned to her own home to find her parents waiting unhappily in the kitchen. The radio was blaring the obnoxious voice of Gary DaLaune, her parents' favorite news anchor on their favorite station, KLIF Dallas, and Cherry immediately sensed that she was in trouble.
"Care to explain to me, young lady, why I just heard reports of a shooting in the exact location where that Elliott man and his television store are located?" her mother asked pointedly, looking at her with a disdainful expression. Cherry swallowed nervously, looking between her parents - they both shared the same disappointed look as though Cherry had shot someone herself rather than just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She wiped her hands on her wrinkled waitress uniform. "I wasn't hurt, if that's what you're asking," Cherry said in a small voice, looking at her black, Oxford leather shoes. The kitchen floor was gleaming as if it had just been scrubbed and Cherry could see her own distorted reflection.
"While your mother and I are very grateful that you weren't injured, we'd like to know what exactly you were doing walking into a place like that!" Cherry's father exclaimed sternly. "I told you to be careful, Cherry Pie. You or Iona could have been killed!"
"I was careful," Cherry argued. "Iona and I hid until it was over - we didn't even see who was shooting! We didn't come out until the police had arrived and by then it was completely safe!"
Cherry didn't quite understand why she was being scolded like a child - she was 18 years old! It's not like she'd known someone was going to start shooting right outside of Elliott's television store. It's not like she'd gone there on purpose just to get shot at. Her parents were being completely unreasonable.
