The Hunted

The Hunted: Chapter V

The little diner across the street, as it turns out, did not have a view worth mentioning. This of course wasn’t all that surprising. Taylor sat there silently drinking her coffee while Blade, who sat across from her, tried very unsuccessfully to tell their annoying waitress that he wasn’t interested in anything she had to say, much less what she was offering.

“That’s a nice offer, ma’am, but I really don’t–“ He started and was, yet again, cut off by her sickly sweet, completely fake, Georgia peach accent.

“Well now, how ‘bout we meet at the end of my shift, hmmm? I think we’d have lots of fun, you and me.”

Taylor rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. This woman was insane. For all she knew, Blade could be a serial murderer on the run and she could be his captive. But did that stop this busty waitress from all but sitting on his lap and purring like a well attended kitten?

“He’s quite obviously not interested. Now, could you do your job and get me another damn cup of coffee?” Taylor said, slamming her cup down on the ugly faded yellow table. Already apologetic about her outburst, though not wanting to be, she grudgingly added “Please.”

The waitress narrowed her eyes but obliged. When she finally, praise the Lord, walked off Taylor sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmured “I don’t know how well she was doing at changing your mind, but I couldn’t stand another millisecond of that friggin’ fake ass accent.” She heard him chuckle and decided that he wasn’t all that bothered by it.

“She wasn’t getting anywhere but on my nerves. So thanks.”

Still rubbing her eyes she said, “Oh, it was my pleasure.”

Just as the words left her mouth, the waitress strutted her way back to the table and slammed the cup down, sloshing some of the coffee inside over the lip of the cup.

Taylor looked at the spilled coffee. “You know, I was actually still considering giving you a tip, despite the fact that you annoyed the hell out of me.” She looked up, “So much for that idea.”

Before she even knew what was happening, the little Georgia peach wannabe picked up the coffee mug and threw the contents of it in her face. She jerked out of her seat, hissing through her teeth. Her skin was burning and she was having trouble fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. After wiping off as much of the hot liquid as she could, she focused her attention on the waitress. Her eyes were smug and satisfied, and there was a slight smirk to her lips.

That did it.

Without a second thought, Taylor threw her fist into the girls face. She heard a satisfying crack and watched as the blood started flowing from, she checked the girl’s name tag, Sherri’s nose. Later she would feel it in her hand, but for now she had adrenalin pumping through her veins and the pain could wait. She didn’t hear the gasps, the curses, or the applause. Her ears were ringing as she shoved out of the Mountain View Diner and made her way back to the motel room.

He watched her leave. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be with her, protecting her, but for now he just sat there. Completely shocked.

She seemed so quiet, so shy... and then she goes and knocks someone out with one punch? It didn’t make a bit of sense, but he would wonder about that later. The waitress was on the floor, blood pouring from her nose, and nobody was making a move to help her. Everyone seemed just as shocked as he was. 

He helped her up and to a nearby bar stool. “Dammit someone come here and help her!” When one of the other waitresses stepped forward, he left and headed toward the motel. Upon entering their shared room, he found her in the bathroom with the door open looking at the damage. She jumped when he closed the door.