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"Are you going to see him again?"
"I have no way of contacting him, so no," she lied. She had Corbus' number, and Renly had insisted on buying her a replacement dress for the night before.
"Pity," she pouted. "You could have been soulmates, maybe."
"Soulmates? You're crazy, Jez. If I have a soulmate out there, I certainly hope to find him in a better place than the local bar." Mykie had never been crazy on the idea of a soulmate, and that only one person was your match. Who was she to say or judge whether a guy was the person she was meant to be with or not? No one could say that there was onlyoneperson you were supposed to be with, anyway.
There were many people in the Cantil that had open relationships or some that started from the beginning with more than two people. Mykie wasn't one to judge, especially when she saw how in love the couples were with their partners. There were days she thought their marriages and relationships were stronger than any other relationship she had seen. It took the most ultimate trust and love to share your partner with someone else for the rest of your relationship. Mykie wanted a love like that, where trust and love were stronger than any secrets they might keep.
"You never know. It would be a great story to tell the kids and grandkids if that happened," Jezebeth murmured.
Caspar took that moment to come out with their drinks, weaving through the crowded tables until he reached their table. He passed the drinks out, leaving Mykie's for last.
"Are you allergic to anything?" he asked.
"What?" she blurted. It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her mystery meal. "No. Nothing off the top of my head, at least."
He nodded, pleased with her answer. "The food will be out in a few minutes, then."
He went towards the table that had been waiting the entire time for their order to be taken, appearing very unhappy with the service they were getting. It wasn't Caspar's fault that he didn't notice them, and it wasn't his sole responsibility to be the one to take that table's order. There was another waiter around somewhere that could have easily grabbed their orders.
Or maybe she was just biased.
"I can see why that one caught your eye. You've always had good taste when it comes to pretty people with wicked hair," Jezebeth explained, flicking her green hair with one hand.
"Are you saying he didn't catch yours?" Mykie tilted her head in question.
"I can appreciate a good-looking boy, but I have my sights on someone more...reserved."
Mykie's face split into a huge smile. She knew a nice man who loved to be reserved and mysterious, and if there was a chance that Jezebeth might push herself to get involved with Dexter, Mykie would support them both.
"How can the two of you go on and on about boys?" Noah groaned.
"That's how Jezebeth is. Mykie gets dragged into it, and we're subjected to it by default," Dexter explained, looking up from his own phone. He put his arm out, leaning it on the back of Jezebeth's chair. It was a very natural move for him, but she knew he was listening to their conversation and picked up on exactly what Jezebeth was saying. It was Jezebeth's move now, it was up to her only to tell Dexter where they were going with this and what they were doing.
Caspar came around the corner of the kitchen, balancing the round tray with food on top. Mykie could already tell from looking at it that it wasn't sorted correctly, and it was unbalanced, however Caspar managed to get from the kitchen through the dining area with the food in tactic. However, the fooddidn'tmake it to the table, as Caspar walked in the path of a table with a family with lots of kids who had thrown their drink to the floor. In one fellow swoop, Caspar stepped into the puddle and slipped, the food crashing to the ground and onto their table.
Caspar fell on his butt, but it went unnoticed by many as they winced at the sound of plates breaking and the food flying at the four of us. The owner and cook of the diner, Clayton Joy, rushed out from the kitchen. His wife, Chelsea, was only a few steps behind him.
"What's happened?" he questioned, looking around at the mess and the quiet patrons. He groaned when he noticed it was Caspar on the ground.
"Watson! This is the fifth time in the three weeks you've worked here that you've broken something!" Clayton barked. His face was beet red, and he had a spatula in his hand from whatever meal he was working on before he rushed out there. He and his wife were both heavy-set people, but not entirely unhealthy. They both were from Spanish and some Native American descent, which they earned their sleek black hair from.
Caspar looked devastated. "But, sir—"
“Get up! We’ll talk about this in the back!”
On unsteady legs, he used the table next to him to stand up, but not without apologizing to the customers beside him. Mykie to tell he was limping as he made his way to the back. She had a bad feeling about what was going to happen.
She stood up, ignoring Dexter’s warning behind her as she made her way to the back of the restaurant.
"No! I let it go the first week, but I can't afford to keep fixing your mistakes. You're fired," Clayton growled, pointing a knife at the boy.
"You know I need this job," he said, his voice desperate. He seemed scared, his eyes wide and watching the knife with every flick Clayton gave as he spoke. He wasn’t as afraid of the knife as much as the man behind it, however. Mykie couldn't stand by and watch the scene for any longer.
"It's not his fault. He couldn't see the spill on the ground and slipped. Accidents happen all of the time, you know that."
Clayton looked over at Mykie and pushed the boy back, against the wall. He tried his best to push himself as far into the wall as he could to avoid the knife.
