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“Please sir, I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to intervene. “I’ll get you some napkins, and... and... your lunch is on me.”
“Well the beer is already on me,” he hisses, turning to me. Spit is flying. A little hits me on the chin, and I do my best to wipe it away without embarrassing either of us more.
“I’m so sorry, again,” I say, my cheeks burning red. “Spilling the beer was an accident. Please,” I rush to get a stack of napkins, and when I turn back, Kanen has the guy by the shirt collar.
“You apologize to her,” he growls.
“What’s it to you, buffalo jockey?” says the man.
“What did you call me?” Kanen asks. His voice has a tone I haven’t heard before. “I’ve had just about enough of your shit.”
“Kanen is a bull rider, not a buffalo jockey,” I try to say quickly, just as the man says, “What do you care about this floozy anyway?”
Kanen rears back and clocks the man with one punch.
“What are you doing?” I yell, but the whole restaurant goes silent. Lacey grabs me by the arm.
“Just let it go,” she says. “It’s over.”
“What’s over, and why did he call Kanen a buffalo jockey?” I hiss.
“Do you know what that means?” she whispers back.
“Um, no?” I’m completely puzzled.
“It’s racist,” she says.
I’m lost at first. Then I realize. The raven tattoo. The unusual name. He’s got native blood, and this guy is disrespecting him.
The bartender intervenes. “Look,” she says to both of them, her hand on her jean-clad hip. She looks tough as nails, turning her head to Kanen standing there with gritted teeth, and then to the man on the ground rubbing his jaw. “You fine gentlemen can fight if you want, but you’re both going to have to leave here to do it. We can’t have brawls in the restaurant.” Her voice is the steely kind that you can’t ignore, one that’s built on years of practice.
“Yes ma’am,” Kanen says, regaining his composure quickly, but it’s a front. Underneath the cool facade he’s burning up. He tips his hat to the rest of us, looking at me square in the eye. “Charge my account,” he says curtly. “For any damage, and for both our lunches. Sorry for the unpleasantness.”
He walks out of the restaurant, head held high, and everyone turns to watch him go. One person starts clapping, but after a minute, stops. The crowd turns to look at the other man, who’s struggling to get up off the floor, the soft soles of his cowboy boots slipping on the tiles.
“He’s gonna pay for this,” the man slurs, his jaw swollen. “And so, little missy, are you.”
I pull off my shoes. If I’m going to get fired, at least I can stop the foot torture. “So sorry, sir!” I say. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! I’m sorry, Lacey! I don’t deserve this job!” I run in bare feet back to the stock room.
She runs after me and sees me burst into tears.
“Look, are you okay, Chastity?” she says quickly, rubbing my arm.
“Why couldn’t you have let me serve Kanen in the first place? Then none of this would have happened,” I blubber. “Now everything is a worse mess than it was before!”
“We’ll see.” She rubs harder. “I don’t know if it’s so bad.”
“I’m going to get fired!” I cry.
“Yeah, probably,” Lacey admits. “I think that’s a given. I hope I don’t get fired since I recommended you.”
We look at each other and both start laughing. “You were probably right that waitressing is not your thing,” Lacey struggles to say, through ever-growing peals of laughter.
I wipe my eyes. “Ah well, I was likely going to quit anyway.”
“That’s true.” Lacey grins. “If you want I’ll take the new shoes off your hands. They’ll come in handy whether I get to keep my job, or if I have to start street walking to make rent.”
“They’re all yours!” I laugh, handing them over. “With pleasure!” I wonder where Kanen is now, and if I can still catch up with him.
