Deal With It By: Audrey B. Holley

Chapter 1

Pattering my pen furiously on the miniature booklet I hold in my right hand, I find myself staring out the window. Flakes of snowy white dissolve against the wet glass.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" The guy is saying.

I jerk my attention to the customer. Clearing my throat, I ask, "Have you decided?"

His eyes contain the shade of a lightly hinted blue when his meet mine for a split second.

"I'll let my buddy here go first." He then observes the menu a moment longer. His corpulent figured friend gives an uneasy laugh as he scrambles to remember what he wants.

"I'll uh..." he grunts, and then proceeds, "I'll have the Jalapeno Smokehouse Burger with fries on the side." 

I scribble it on the paper, and then with a glance that may have been too long, I ask, "And to drink?"

"Diet Coke," he replies, still holding my stare that should have been only a passing look. I can't help but stare at his face. His lashes are long enough to brush the tips of his pink cheeks when he blinks. His crooked smile appears nervously over his replete lips.

Hoping to brake myself out of the odd trance, I adjust my specs.  

Although his body is a bit hefty like, I find myself thinking that he isn't half bad, a decent looking man in my opinion. He has a broadness to him I consider attractive.

Laying the flat of his big palm on the table, he mumbles, "I'm going to use the restroom." When he takes a stand to his feet, his lofty height makes me feel a bit too small. 

As he wobbles away, I turn to the other guy who seems more unlike my type. But he doesn't take the hint, for he flashes me a flirty smile that makes me sweat. 

"Do you know what you want?" I ask, brushing off the grin he gives me. I keep a straight face, attempting to let him know I am not interested.

"So..." he squints at my name tag, "Keelie, I'll have the same thing as my pal."

I scrawl it down, but glance at him one last time. "Same drink as well?" 

He seems to weigh the options of his thirst in his mind. "Yeah, why not?" He grins flirtatiously again. I then saunter around to the kitchen area to inform the cook of the meal he shall prepare next for a lousy pair of customers. I am then instructed to take care of another waiting booth. 

Minutes that feel like hours seem to drone on and on, and then I am heading back to the guys I was busied with in the beginning. 

I arrive with beverages that slick my palms from the moisture on the mugs.

"Two diet Cokes," I say, placing them on the flat surface.

The copiously built guy grunts in order to clear his throat. "Uh..." his chocolate brown eyes look to me apprehensively. "Are you hiring?" He asks.

"Yes. Would you like an application sir?" I say, staring at his face for too long. 

"Um..." he fiddles in his back pocket for a writing utensil. "Yes please." He continuously pats his jeans for a pen. 

"May I use your..." He seems to have forgotten his knowledge of words.

"Pen?" I raise my brows with questioning, and twitch the left side of my mouth into a half smile.

Is it me, or is this guy just a nervous freak?

I dig into my pocket for one of my pens, and then give it to him.

I lick my lips, and say, "Your meal will be ready shortly. Would you like some chips and salsa while you wait?"

"No. I think we-"

"Yes," interrupts the flirty guy. "Yes we do." He flashes me another one of his coquettish smirks.

That's what I will call him, flirt guy.

And the other will be dubbed shy guy.

"So you do?"

"Yes," says flirt guy with a wink. "Yes we do." His pretentious manner is a major turn off. His insensitive personality is the complete opposite of shy guy, who on the other hand, is quite bashful for his first impression.

I then momentarily advance to my other waiting customers who remain giggling at the booth. When the group of girls see me approaching them with refreshments, the laughter dies down until I leave.

I head back to the table of the two quite dissimilar men, and halt before them with a basket of chips, and a small bowl of dip. Shy guy peeks down at the table when he sips his drink, which is almost already empty.

"Would you like a re-fill?" 

"Um..." he glances to his cup only for a second. "Yes please." His burly chest is seen prominently beneath his grey T-shirt when he stretches.

Although flirt guy has a beefy form, it just isn't quite the same as shy guy. Maybe it's because flirt here is trying too hard, and is pressing his luck, or could it be that shy guy has a timid way about him that greatly reveals his buddies egocentric quality?

By the time they rise to their feet, I come to clear the table for the next waiting people.

"Did you enjoy the food?" I ask, leaning over the surface to retrieve a plate with the remains of a few half bitten fries.

Flirt guy says, "It was quite filling." He then whips out a fat wallet I assume is heavily filled with cash. "Here's a tip for the wonderful waitress." His right eye twitches, indicating that he is winking again.

"Um here's..." Shy guy hands me his completed application form. After I clean the spot for the following customers, the two boys head out in the direction of a motorcycle. I assist an old gal, leading her to the table I just polished, and then peek into the managers office to turn in shy guys application.

"There's a man looking for a job. He asked if we were hiring, and I told him we are so he filled out a form. Here it is."

Mr. Werton grins gleefully all the while he clasps his hands together. "Oh, good. We need more helpers in the kitchen area, or maybe another waiter. Tell him to come in, we'll have the interview now."

I walk quickly to the exiting doors. Just my luck, they are still there adjusting themselves on their hip ride. 

"Shy guy!" I blurt out. 

What was I thinking?

"Or I mean, guy."

Nope, try again.

"I meant sir." Finally reaching them, I deliver the information.

"The boss, Mr. Werton, wants to see you."

He unlatches the buckle under his butt chin, and removes his helmet. "Um...OK," he says, swinging his leg over the seat to step off the motorcycle, all the while flirt guy whips out a pack of cigarettes.

As flirt guy busies himself with a smoke, I lead the way back into the building.

"Do you think he'll give me the job? I really need it."

I don't say anything, but glance up at him with one of my half smiles, and cross two of my fingers.

Peeking my head in the door of the office, I say, "Mr. Werton? Here's the man."

"Oh splendid!"

Shy guy enters, grasps the bosses outstretched hand, and then gives him a firm shake.

"Well you're quite a young looking lad."

"I just turned 18 sir a few days ago," he explains.

Mr. Werton motions to a chair. "Take a seat," he says, and then plops down to a sitting posture. "What's your name son?"

 I never hear the response, for I excuse myself out of the room too soon.