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“I haven’t gotten laid in a month,” I point out casually, popping another fry in my mouth.
“What?” Tatum screeches, earning a disapproving look from the elderly couple in her section. “Sorry, Janis!” she calls quickly before stifling her laughter and returning her attention to me. “You have three dicks to play with, and you have the audacity to stand there and tell me you aren’t using them?”
I chuckle, finding her incredulity amusing. “We are taking things slow,” I whisper with a mischievous grin.
Vito leans against the little window where he places the food. He’s typically quiet and reserved, and being relatively new, he still has an air of mystery about him. I’ve gathered that he’s a Genovese cousin attempting to escape his murderous past. “She’s right,” he chimes in quietly. “Men don’t care if you use them.”
I hold back the urge to toss a fry at Vito. “I care.”
“I’m just saying they don’t care,” he retorts, pointing a spatula at me before returning to his prep work.
Tatum rolls her eyes, the smirk never leaving her lips. “Well, maybe I need a rotation like yours, Charlotte. Keep things interesting.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”
She grins, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Oh, I bet it’s plenty glamorous.”
Vito gives her a rare smile over his shoulder, as though he’s aware she’s watching him.
“Do you think that was an invitation?” Tatum questions, her curiosity piqued.
“Why don’t you go find out?” I tease, watching as she practically stumbles off her stool in her haste to reach the kitchen. The prospect of uncovering Vito’s mysterious persona seems to have invigorated her.
Fortunately, I don’t have to eavesdrop on Tatum’s escapades when a certain trio walks through the diner’s entrance. “Hey, guys!” I greet them with a warm smile, hastily wiping off the salty residue from the fries on my fingertips. I reach the podium, instinctively grabbing three menus, although I know their preferences by heart.
“There’s our girl!” Jason swoops in for a hug, and before I can even register it, his familiar embrace engulfs me. He smells of machine oil and dust, embodying the long hours he’s been putting in lately. Pulling back, he looks at me from under his glasses, a playful glint in his eyes. “You are positively glowing.” He winks at me and steps back, allowing the others their turn.
Brad is next, offering a quick hug. His tired eyes and pale complexion reveal a lack of rest, likely the result of relentless nights spent tackling whatever has been plaguing him. There is stubble on his jawline, emphasizing the strain on his tight-lipped smile.
What happened to him?I wonder, but I push the thought aside and plaster a bright smile on my face. The weight of worry remains hidden beneath the cheerful façade.
“Usual booth?” I ask, already leading them toward their familiar spot and placing the menus down.
“Of course,” Jeff chimes in.
“Today we eat in memory of Sal,” Jason states as he slides into his respective side of the booth, Brad right beside him.
Jeff nods solemnly. “I can see you’re doing all right after Sal’s passing.”
It’s a poignant moment. The wordpassinghits me differently, a subtle shift from the harsh reality of murder. I take a moment to absorb the weight of their words, my heart sinking. Sal’s death is something we’re all still grappling with, each in our own way. The laughter and clinking of glasses in the diner starkly contrast the somber mood at their booth. I take a deep breath and put on my best reassuring smile.
“We’re managing. It’s been tough, but we stick together. The diner helps. It’s like a little piece of him is still here, watching over us.” I glance around, taking in the familiar surroundings, finding comfort in the memories and the sense of continuity the diner provides.
It makes me wonder how much they know about Lenora, and how much they know about Desmond. The last time I saw them was the day before Sal died, when they each tipped me a hundred, and they asked if they needed to get rid of Desmond.
Unless everyone just plays dumb.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Have you guys been in since?”
“Every Sunday,” Brad answers. “Haven’t seen you in.”
“I got a schedule change.” The only thing I miss about working weekends is this trio.
“Are you sure you are all right?” Jeff asks with a knowing gaze.
“I’m all right,” I say, pulling out my pad of paper. “Usual? Or are you guys going to venture into something different today?”
“New cook,” Jason remarks, wrinkling his face as he eyes Vito. “Is he any good?”
