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The babysitter left soon after, realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to actually pay her. Couldn’t blame her, really. Someone I could blame was my asshole of a landlord who had given me until this Sunday, or I was going to get thrown out onto the street and possibly found by my ex.
My arm started to ache again. Phantom pains from the time it was broken. I told people at the hospital I had fallen down the stairs. It wasn’t a lie, really. Stairs had been gone down. I had just glossed over the bit about me having had help. They never pried, and I didn’t elaborate. It wasn’t until he pulled a gun on me, while I was nursing, that I decided it was time for us to go. That was over a year ago. A year of hiding and struggles.
Things were only getting worse. I needed money, and I needed it fast. I’d heard about this new restaurant from a friend. It was on the other side of town, but I figured it was worth the two buses it would take to get there just for the slim chance of getting another job.
Standing on the curb a few minutes later, I realized the stories had been somewhat misleading. The place was a diner in the broadest sense but with a distinctly risqué theme — with a uniform that accentuated the server’s figure, to put it mildly. I was just desperate enough to give it a try.
Shifting Katie slightly, who was in a baby backpack on my back, I marched toward the restaurant, determined to get the job.
“Hi, I’m here for an interview,” I said to the buxom girl behind the counter. “Seriously?” she asked, looking at me and then at Katie. “Yeah,” I said, with slightly less enthusiasm. “Wait here,” she said, slightly annoyed. Taking of the backpack, I sat down on the vinyl bench, putting Katie back on my lap, which she seemed to love. Exhaustion crashed over me, and I had to pull myself together when I saw the manager coming toward us. “Ashlyn Tate?” he asked. “That’s me!” I said, making the effort to perk up considerably. “Come this way,” he said, going back toward his office. Picking up the backpack, I followed, carrying Katie as well as I could with one arm. “Please have a seat,” the manager said, gesturing to a chair across from his desk. “Thanks,” I said, putting the baby backpack beside me as I sat down. “So, what’s your experience like?” the manager asked. “I have about a year of diner experience,” I said. “Why did you leave your last job?” “I got downsized.” “I see,” he said, making a note, “you do realize this is a licensed establishment.” I blinked at him. “Yeah, why?” “How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?” “Twenty-two,” I said. “Really?” he asked, looking up. “Yeah,” I said, my cheeks getting hot. I knew I looked young, even with a baby on my lap.
The manager eyed me. “What’s your cup size?” “You mean, like my bra?” “Yes,” he said flatly. “34D,” I said softly. “Impressive,” he said, taking another note then looking directly at my chest. I nearly said “thanks” on reflex but thought better of it before I could embarrass myself. He sighed. “I have to be honest, I’m not sure I can hire you. Don’t get me wrong. You’re super cute, and your tits are fantastic.” “Thanks,” I said, immediately wanting to slap myself. “It’s just I don’t think our clientele, horny as they might be, are going to go for the jailbait look,” he explained, actually sounding reasonable as he did so — like my last manager had right before he fired me.
I had been called a lot of things in my life, though ‘jailbait’, surprisingly wasn’t one of them. I was too humiliated to really say anything. I just nodded my comprehension, put Katie in her backpack, and left, fighting the tears that were threatening to well up in my eyes. Back out on the sidewalk, I checked my wallet again. I really hadn’t counted on the trip costing that much, wasting not only time and effort but what little money I had.
Katie started fussing as much as she ever did, letting me know she was either hungry or needed a change. I had just put her in a new diaper before we left to get the bus, so I figured it would be the latter. Left with the choice of taking the bus or feeding my daughter, I carefully crossed the street to a nearby supermarket.
It was getting dark when I came out, having fed Katie at one of the tables the store had set up for those who couldn’t wait until they got home. They didn’t have highchairs, so I just held her on my lap and spoon-fed her baby food. Resourcefulness was a major factor of my existence since striking out on my own. Most of the food even got into her mouth, which was a relief.
