AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I thought you were seeing someone?”
Carlos bites his lip. “Yeah. I’m doing alright, I guess... What’s his name?” he asks, nodding towards the now empty booth where Ronan had been sitting.
“Ronan,” I whisper.
“Oh, what? Is he, like half-Japanese or something?”
I snort with laughter. “Ronan,” I enunciate. “Not Ronin. You’re thinking of that Keanu Reeves movie, silly.”
“Damn, girl. I don’t care what he is, as long as he’s looking like that.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. I don’t need Carlos’s reassurance to know that Ronan’s hot, I can see it clear as day myself, but it’s also nice to know that I’m not entirely crazy. Ronan is absurdly handsome—I’m not just being some hurricane-chaser, falling head over heels for the biggest, most dangerous threat I can find.
“We’re closing up early tonight,” I mention, as I pick at some home fries from our big plate of leftovers.
“You won’t hear me complaining.”
“You don’t need the money?” I ask, confused. Carlos might not have as much debt as I do, but I know full well he’s got bills to pay. I thought he might at least put up a small fight.
“Of course I need the money,” he says. “But I also need a break. Everyone does once in a while. You go have some fun with that divine beast tonight, you hear? That’s an order!”
I hug Carlos from behind and
rub my face into his sweaty shoulder blade. We’re nearly the same height, so I have to bend down to get there, but it’s worth it. It’s so nice to have such a good and wise friend. “Yes, sir,” I accept, slipping his share of Ronan’s tip into his apron.
My eyes dart back and forth between the analogue clock over the kitchen-window and the last two customers at Chelly’s. It’s almost 11pm now and I want to get the hell out of here. I haven’t been outside since my break a few hours ago, but if the quiet saran-wrap window is any indication to go by, it might actually be a decent night out there. No harsh winds make for a better walk home than anyone in this city has had the right to ask for over the past few months—it won’t hurt that I’ll have a handsome hunk walking beside me for cover.
I try to telepathically will the remaining customers from their tables. It’s a practice I’m all too accustomed to, but I’d be a liar if I told you I was any good at it. In fact, it seems like my quiet ribbing has only made these two want to settle in more.
I do have enough experience as a waitress, though, to anticipate what might come next. A coffee order. I try to nip that in the bud as quickly as possible. I slyly tamper with the machine until I’m sure an untrained eye would think it just as un-operational as I want it to be. Then, I impatiently wait for something to happen.
This is the height of excitement in my professional life and as I realize just how antsy I’m getting for someone to order coffee already, I thank the heavens that I was stupid enough earlier to agree to let Ronan walk me home.
He’s actually interesting, and even if we don’t get into any more trouble together, I’m at least dying to find out more about him—like, what does he do for a living? And why did it lead him to a shootout on my front steps?
Finally, I see a hand rise up from one of the occupied tables. “Coffee,” asks the predictable fool.
“Sorry, the machine’s currently broken,” I say as sweet as sugar, cackling inside and praising my own diabolical plan. I might as well be an evil mastermind. Will Ronan even be able to keep up?
The customer huffs, but doesn’t push. That’s the kind of customer I like the best. I apologize profusely and serve them their bill.
One down, one to go.
It doesn’t take long for another coffee order to come in. I go through my same routine and get the same response. A disappointed shrug and a request for the bill. I almost feel like I’m regaining a little bit of control in my upturned life as I see the last customer of the day to the door.
The feeling doesn’t last long, though.
Just as I’m returning to the front door to lock up for the night, I spot an oddly familiar face outside. Under the streetlights I can make out his short, tubby, bald features, rumbling towards the same front door I’m about to lock. It takes me a second to realize just how I recognize him, but when I do, a pang of dread fills up my gut.
It’s the rude sausage-lipped customer from the other night—and he’s making a beeline for the diner!
Fuck!
My hands tremble as I fumble with my keys, trying desperately to find the right one. I cannot deal with this motherfucker right now. I’ve got more important things to get to.
Still, I’m crumbling under the sudden pressure. I just can’t seem to get a hold of the right key. The rattle of the master chain distracts me almost as much as the approaching steps of the rude customer.
So much for being a mastermind—I’m choking.
