Darkside

Eight

"You ever worked at a place like this before?" Gum pops, practically in my face. Not that I flinch. "Phoenix."

"Not exactly like this." Luvvie hasn't, but Phoenix is a woman of the world. I need to embody her more than ever right now. "But I've worked in a motel on the front desk. Customer facing. I can use that experience here."

"Hmm, but waitressing is different. Real different. It'll be hard for someone like you."

I grit my teeth. This bitch wants to get the better of me but I won't let her. She has the self-importance of someone who offers Silver Star service rather than a diner on a dingy city street corner. That chip on her shoulder needs knocking right off.

I chose this place because it looks like it might hire less-than-reputable people, so she needn't be snooty with me.

"I can smile and be polite, I can take orders, I can carry plates to a table."

"You think?" She cocks her head to one side. "I don't know..."

"Give me a chance and you'll see. I'll prove it to you right now."

No longer being a people-pleaser is more freeing than I thought it would be. I enjoy defiantly staring her down. I'll soon show her she isn't better than me.

"You want to work now, show me you got it? Go ahead."

Her arms fold across her chest and she smirks. It takes every scrap of willpower not to tell her to stick it. Beggars can't be choosers and I need something to keep me going.#

"Give me an apron and I will show you..."

***

This isn't hard. I don't know why that bitch thought it was okay to make out that this job would kill me. I'm the one owning it. Look at me now, living the fucking dream...

"Glad I hired you now." Heather shoots me a wink. "I know I gave you a hard time yesterday during your trial but I'm sick of people letting me down. I get a lot vanishing without telling me. Does my head in."

"No chance of me vanishing." An obvious lie. "I need this work. I won't be going anywhere."

"Good, Phoenix, because we need good workers like you." She pats my arm, I try not to finch. "Reliable people who don't put other, stupid things before their work."

"I don't have anywhere else to be, nowhere to be but here."

What would I be doing if I wasn't here?

No, that isn't even a question. This is exactly what Phoenix would be doing. The only person who might be doing something different is Luvvie and I can't worry about her for obvious reasons.

"Right, well I will clean down table three, then refill the ketchup bottles. Let me know if there's anything else you need me to do."

"Thanks, Phoenix, but it's all good. Once you've done that you can get out of here. Knock off early. You've worked hard today and I don't see it getting busy now."

Hmm, maybe she isn't such a bitch after all.

***

Orson.

What the hell were you thinking?

Phoenix,

I have a feeling you might leave soon. I like you, you're the first person I've liked in a very long time. That night we shared...it was amazing. I hope you feel the same way.

Shit. I don't even remember it. Does that make me a bad person?

When did he even slip this note into my backpack? How have I not seen it until now?

If you leave, I don't want to lose you, I want to know that you have a piece of me with you. My number is on the back. Call me...if you want.

Orson.

Who does that? What sort of person acts like this? It's insane. We knew each other for two days. Nowhere near long enough for him to be attached to me. A drunken night of sex doesn't mean I want his number. He's a fool.

Yet my heart pounds, my fingers yearn to dial his number, to reopen that wound.

But clingy people aren't sexy, they're problematic. I learned that the hard way. Orson's not worth risking everything for because this attachment can't end well.

"Sorry, Orson. I can't call you. Nice try though."

I should chuck the number. Yet somehow it finds its way back in my backpack. For no reason, certainly no roots, just because...