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If anything, work on Thursday proved a hundred times worse than Wednesday. Rachel Manning parked at the counter and nothing dislodged her. She had the seat right at the end, so I had to pass her every time I moved out to take care of the tables. Cheryl had come in with her, but unlike Rachel, she apparently had other places to go.
When Rachel pulled out her books and actually started doing homework while sipping on a shake, I was oddly grateful. It meant she wasn’t giving me those weird, assessing looks anymore. Yes, she saw me kiss Ian in the parking lot. Great. Call me, paranoid, but it felt like she’d judged me. Or at least, judged something about me.
Jake and Ian showed up a little later than the day before, but this was their last practice before Friday night’s game. Their arrival also signaled the rush. Football players, their girlfriends, and families among others poured in the doors. A lot of take out orders, full stations on both sides, and blenders that never turned off. Marsha, our manager, didn’t wait to be called out. She all but apparated as soon as the jingling on the door took on an almost rhythmic tone.
When I brought Jake and Ian their shakes, they both cast me apologetic looks. “We should never have told the team about this place,” Ian said, the curve of his lips tugging at me.
“It’s almost cute that you think this is your fault,” I told him, then glanced between the two. “It’s a gonna be a few before the burgers are ready. Lots of orders going in.”
“Take your time,” Jake said, and he ran his gaze over me just like he promised. Terrible boy. Yes, he was picturing me commando. The heat creeping up my neck was almost as bad as the hickey I’d made sure the work shirt hid.
“I plan on it,” I said and then took a deliberate step before I glanced back. “Oh, and Jake? That thing you asked me about earlier? I decided on yes.”
“About after work?”
“Nope. The other one.”
Confusion clouded his eyes for a moment, so I left him to stew on it. I was two steps away when he muttered, “Oh. Hell…”
Maybe that was a little bit mean, but if he was going to tease me, I planned to return the favor. A little niggle of guilt for leaving him on the spot with Ian, but I needed the boost for the shift.
Zabra cast a look at me as we met by the shake machines. “You want to run food or make shakes?”
“Run food.” Making shakes got tiring.
She chuckled. “Next time you do the shakes.”
“Deal.” I left her with my list and turned the window. Every order came with its check, so I knew where they went. I started hustling out all the burgers. By the time I was done, Zabra had my shakes ready, and I got those to the tables, then did a sweep and we washed, rinsed, and repeated.
“Hey, Frankie,” Rachel snagged my attention on my way past.
Okay. Here it comes… I braced.
“Can I get you something?” Her shake was almost empty, and she’d finished her burger and fries a long time ago.
“You have time for a quick question?” She motioned to the lit textbook she had open in front of her. Of all the things I expected, I hadn’t been prepared for that one.
“Um…” I did a quick scan of the restaurant; we were slowing—but only just barely. Jake and Ian were in the middle of an intense debate that required paper and pen. There were also a couple of orders in the window. “Let me get this order in and those out, and I’ll be right back?”
“Great,” she said, with a quick smile. An actual smile, not that intense calculating and rather disturbing smile she wore that never made it all the way to her eyes.
Who was she and what had she done with Rachel? “Do you need more?” I motioned to the shake.
“I might be sick if I have anymore. Can I just get a coke? So I can still sit here?”
I wasn’t going to chase her out if she was done ordering, but sure, why not? “I’ll bring it with me.”
“Thanks.” Another grin.
Was that theTwilight Zonemusic? It took me more like seven minutes before I got back to Rachel with her coke. I cleared away her shake glass and the spot next to her at the bar.
“What’s up?”
She focused on me, not her book. “We’re working on analyzing poetry and I have to doRemembrance.”
“By Brontë?”
Surprise flickered over her face before she nodded. Turning her book, she faced it toward me. Yep, I remembered that poem. I skimmed it then checked with Rachel again. It was a terrifically sad poem full of anguish and longing. Not my favorite. “She wants us to break it down by paragraphs and detail what is being communicated in each section.”
