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The door dings, bringing my attention to the young girl that I’m just realizing I missed seeing yesterday and I wonder how she got along. Did she manage to buy food yesterday? Did they give her something to eat? She’s avoiding eye contact with the people in the restaurant and making herself small, trying not to be seen and I can’t get her attention with a nod or a smile so I rush behind the counter so I can greet her when she reaches it.
“Hi.” I smile at her with the only genuine smile I’ve been able to muster up today.
“Hi.” She smiles but I notice how painful it seems to be.
I know she doesn’t like personal questions but this isn’t one of those days where I feel like going with the flow and pretending everything is okay. Ignoring signs. So, I ask her, “How are you? Is everything okay?”
The girl glances away and says nothing, hugging herself slightly. I internally close my eyes and take a deep breath because I don’t want to lose my shit and scare the poor thing away. “Usual?” I ask, pretending to let it go but really, I’m just waiting for the moment to keep digging, get her talking.
She nods. I go away and return with her food. She’s tucked some of her hair behind her ear now and it’s hard to tell because she’s caked the make-up on so much, especially in one section but I can see her bruise. She’s been hurt. I put some of my own money into the cash register to pay for her food and slam it shut, unintentionally and it is loud enough to get the attention of the people sitting close to the counter.
“If you break it, you buy it!” I hear my fucking boss coming up behind me. Little does she know that if she pushes her face up next to me right now, I might fucking risk it all and punch her short little ass to the floor, knocking her fucking lights out. Thankfully, she doesn’t come up next to me and just makes the remark and walks away. I try to retain my composure as the young woman stares at me in shock, with a piece of her sandwich in her mouth. I force a smile for her. “Oh, never mind me. Rough day,” I say loud enough for her to hear as well as the customers who are still staring at me, getting their gossip bellies refilled for the day.
I approach her tentatively, tapping my fingers on the counter, shifting on my feet, and stopping myself from breaking out a nervous whistle. “Is there anything else I can get you?” I ask, loud enough for my boss who is keeping an eye on me to hear since I am lingering too long at the counter when there are other customers to serve. The girl only looks at me like I am strange, ignoring me and going back to her sandwich.
I lean in. “You know, a bit of red lipstick before you put on your concealer and your foundation does wonders to cover up a mark like that. I would know, I’ve gotten plenty of them,” I whisper.
She freezes and stares at me in shock. I’m afraid I’ve said too much and she’s about to make a run for it but instead, she just stops eating and pushes her sandwich off to the side.
“What happened?” I finally ask.
She bites on her lips and straightens her shoulders. I look at the customers around her and I know she doesn’t want them to overhear our conversation. “Wanna talk about it out front?”
She shakes her head swiftly. Well, of course not, dumb dumb, her pimp could be out there making sure that she isn’t talking to anyone. Fuck, he may even be in here. I excuse myself, tossing my apron off, quickly heading to the bathroom before I fucking unleash my maniac in front of everyone.
In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror, thinking of what I can do to help the girl. I would offer her a place to stay since we do have a sofa bed in the living room but well, now that I think about it, if she’s being trafficked, being given a place to sleep with two men and a woman living there might spook her, you know. It might just look like another fucking whorehouse to her. So there’s nothing I can do? I can’t just let her go back to the person who hurt her. What am I meant to do? I want to kill the fucking bastard but I can’t. Says who, though?
The rage I’ve been trying to contain all day has been magnified now and the room goes dark all of a sudden. I’m pacing up and down the bathroom tiles and fortunately, there’s no one else in the fucking bathroom as I start kicking the fucking door to the stalls, almost breaking them off their hinges. I try to calm myself as I look in the mirror and I see the red veins in my eyes on full display.
I’m about to explode and I feel like in an instant, blood’s just going to start gushing from my fucking eyeballs, splattering across the mirror. There must be something. And I get an idea. I wash my hands and throw some water on my face, patting it dry with a piece of paper towel. I fix my hair that’s gone out of place now with the fucking tantrum I just threw. I straighten my clothes and rewash my hands, trying to appear completely fucking fine as I exit the bathroom.
I grab a napkin from behind the counter and take it round to the kitchen where I shakily and discreetly write my alias “Kate” and my number on it with the note, “Text me. We’ll talk about it.” I take it back to the front, holding my breath in hope that she’s still there, exhaling heavily when I see that she is.
I hand her the napkin. “Oh, look at you. Mustard all over your face. Pretty girl like you can’t walk around here looking like that. Go on, wipe off your face.”
She takes it in a hurry and starts dabbing her face with it, embarrassingly checking the napkin to see if she’s gotten it all but, of course, there’s no mustard and she sees my information. She looks up at me in amazement and quickly shoves the napkin in her pocket finishing up the milkshake.
Right as she’s about to leave, I stop her again, not wanting her to have to go to the streets to earn her quota for the day. I head to the back and return, seeing her looking around anxiously as if she’s about to run off. I pull out $1000 from my purse. I have that money from our stolen stash. I always walk around with more than I need for the day, just in case of an emergency.
I try to fold it up really small and hand it to her discreetly. Loudly, just in case she’s being watched, I say to her, “Just thought you could use some money for food.”
She takes it without checking it, stuffing it into her pocket. “Thanks,” she says as she hurries out of the restaurant.
I’m about to go after her to see if there’s anyone in the parking lot, following her when my phone rings. I answer it, looking around the cafe to see if anyone’s about to walk out behind her.
“Where are you? Are you on your way?” It’s Mikhail.
I close my eyes and exhale. “My damn boss is on my case. Says I can’t fucking leave for lunch,” I whisper on the phone. “So I can’t come for lunch but I’m definitely coming later.”
“Katie! Phone time on your own time!” my boss yells.
“Oh for fuck sake, this fucking job,” I mumble into the phone, looking to make sure that she’s not still watching me before I sneak out of the restaurant and into the parking lot to see if I can spot her pimp because I know for sure she has one. I see a car parked across the street and it seems to be empty and I see her walking in the opposite direction, toward the main road. A text chimes in during my call.
“Works out great because my boss is kinda hounding me too. See you later?” Mikhail says on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, later.” I hang up the phone and check the text message.
I see a strange number with the same area code as mine.Thanks, Kate. For the money and the advice,the text reads. I smile and put my phone away, looking to see if I can still spot her but she’s disappeared from my view. I check the parking lot and surrounding areas once more and after deciding that no one is following her, I turn to go back inside. I bump into one of our regular customers, a tall man, who seems to be in his mid-thirties, dressed nicely, with dark hair and a bit of stubble.
