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“Hello?” I asked, but then, the call ended.
That was the fourth call in as many days, and I knew it was probably kids, but it always seemed to happen when I was juggling food or plates. There was no number I could see, probably blocked, but it was annoying. Maybe I should think of changing the number.
As I moved from table to table, taking orders and serving food, Merle working the coffee machine and taking orders at the counter, I couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversation. Most of it revolved around Ainsley and his situation. It was the kind of gossip that thrives in small towns, where everyone knows everyone else’s business, or at least thinks they do.
I should have been pleased about the business, the diner was buzzing, and the register was ringing more than usual. But the reason behind it left a bitter taste in my mouth. It felt wrong to benefit from Ainsley’s misfortune, from the town’s eagerness to dissect his pain.
I paused for a moment, leaning against the counter, watching the room. The chatter, the clinking of cutlery, the occasional laughter—it all seemed out of place.
“How can people just sit there, casually discussing a young boy’s trauma as if it were just another piece of daily news?” Merle muttered as he filled an order for soup and sandwiches—today’s special was roasted butternut squash and apple, served alongside grilled cheese with caramelized onion.
I remembered the look on Fox’s face when he’d come in, the worry and concern for his friend. It was a stark contrast to the almost morbid curiosity filling the diner now. I felt a surge of protectiveness, not only for Fox, but for Ainsley, too. They were kids, caught up in situations they shouldn’t have to deal with.
“Small towns,” I murmured, but hadn’t the same thing happened with me and Briggs? People turning a blind eye, then reveling in the fallout and the gossip?
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the tasks at hand. I continued serving, refilling coffee cups, and offering polite smiles. But inside, I was struggling with a mix of emotions—frustration at the gossip, concern for Ainsley, and a growing sense of responsibility to protect these kids from the rumor mill.
The phone rang again, and this time, I at least had my hands free.
“Lily’s Diner, Noah speaking. How can I help?”
Silence again, and then, as I was going to disconnect myself before the caller did, a familiar voice—the pastor.
“This is all your fault. Flags in the window are just the start of the road to eternal damnation!” His voice was slurred. Was the man drunk? I was about done with the call drops, and if this asshole thought he was going to be getting up in my face and disapproving of me, then fuck him.
Fuck, this pastor was obsessed, and I interrupted his speech.
“Sir, we believe in spreading love and acceptance here, just like your Jesus did. If you find a problem with that, maybe you’re on the wrong side of the rainbow.” Then I hung up on his blustering and felt Merle’s hand on my shoulder.
“Okay, boss?”
I bit back the curse I wanted to let loose, aware that the sounds in the diner had stopped. I turned to see everyone in there facing me, and I waited for them to say something, or leave, and then, one guy started a slow clap, which was taken up by everyone.
At least I’d gotten that right.
The day dragged on, each hour punctuated by the sound of the door chime as more customers came in, drawn by the lure of fresh gossip, both Merle and I working like mad to keep the grill turning out the best food, and the coffee and desserts flowing.
And when the phone started ringing, Merle took the call. We couldn’t turn away a potential order, but his eyes widened after he’d given his name. He said nothing, only returned the handset to the base.
“Well shit,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Some guy wanted to know what the fuck I was doing here, and said he’d make sure I never got near you,” he muttered.
“I guess the good pastor thinks I’m going to taint your immortal soul with my rainbow gay.”
He chuckled at that. “I think we ignore the phone for the rest of the day.”
“I can get behind that.”
As the diner began to empty, I felt a sense of relief. Not only because the phone didn’t ring again, but because it had been a profitable day, despite it coming at a cost I wasn’t comfortable with. I hoped for quieter days ahead, days when the diner would be filled with the regular, mundane chatter of everyday life, not the buzz that was gossip.
Merle had just left when Fox came in from school, dumped his backpack on the counter, which I picked up out of habit to hide away, then sighed. Seems as if, maybe, his day was as shit as mine.
“Ainsley wasn’t at school today,” he mumbled, staring at the tabletop. “And I tried to make Clarke smile, but he’s just really worried that Ainsley will move away…”
I reached across, placing my hand over his. “Everything will be okay.”
