Deadly Secrets

Chapter 18: Familiarity*

[Revised]

"Pawn shop, my ass," Zara grumbled to herself as she grabbed the styrofoam containers from the kitchen's pass-through window and stacked them inside a plastic bag, beside the cash register. "That will be twenty dollars, sir."

Sammy Boy was a quintessential American diner in lower Manhattan. The place had a 90's style décor, and its ownership was passed down from generation to generation and run by the owner's family. Wobbly tables, stained couches, peeling paint—the place was practically falling apart, but the food was cheap, served in large servings, and greasy, hence, it was very popular. Because the Diner was on the first floor, the owners—a couple in their fifties—lived on the second floor, so it was very easy to manage.

They would have their children wait, but they'd moved out, so they hired students like Zara who were willing to work long hours for a measly wage. Zara absolutely despised them because they treated their employees like garbage, however, since the tips sometimes could be very generous, the poorly-paid teenagers stuck around and sucked it up. It hadn't been easy to find employment, as Zara had no prior work experience, but when she got hired, she was almost over the moon, had it not been for the owner's additional comment. She may have even excused his ensuing brutish behaviour if he didn't add—after an uncomfortably long handshake and a nauseating smirk—"We need an exotic girl like you. Customers love exotic girls."

Not punching him in the face for the lewd comment had taken a serious divine intervention.

Now she worked the cash register on a slow Tuesday night, counting down the hours before she could return home; even part-time was exhausting. Her lower back still hurt from practically being sat on by Saffron, and their two-hour long video game session had almost gotten her late for her shift.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, but as she briefly turned her head to see who it was, she was met with air.

"Zarina, can you do me a favour?" The nasal voice belonged to none other than Jack, her annoying coworker. She detested the nickname almost as much as him; he'd given it to her because of the colour of her eyes, which he claimed were as icy as her heart. He wasn't wrong about the latter, but it was patronising. Now it also reminded her of Igor, who she still had to go talk to.

"What do you want?" Zara asked through gritted teeth, gripping the cash register with both hands to calm her nerves. Ever since he tried groping her ass on her second day of work, she couldn't look at him with anything other than disdain. She already had to deal with one invasive creep—her boss, who fortunately wasn't around on Tuesday nights—and now with a younger copy.

"My knee's acting up. Could we trade places?" With a smile, he revealed his braces-lined teeth and the dimple in his cheek. Along with his slick blonde hair, horrible acne and glasses, he looked like the kind of kid bullies beat up at school. She wasn't surprised if that was the case.

Zara wrinkled her nose and gave him a once-over; his smile faltered but didn't disappear. More disgusting than usual, she thought to herself as the sweaty collar of his white polo shirt remained imprinted in her mind. Her eyes took in the new customers walking in and taking the table furthest away from the entrance and almost out of sight. The shorter one reminded her a little of Mr. Smee from Peter Pan but in a suit and tie, whereas the taller guy was dressed like he was about to go for a jog in the park.

"Please, Zara, it's swollen and it hurts to walk."

Zara tore her gaze away from the unusual pair and instead looked at Jack the same way you look at roaming fly. "That's not my problem—table 6 has finished eating, so go clear the plates." She removed her hands from the cash register and mentally prepared herself for a new customer.