CHAPTER 5
It smelled like hot oil and musty cloths. Like pizza sauce and spices and strong brewed coffee. Like descaler and mop water and Italian salad dressing.
I stood hesitantly at the entrance to the waitress area, overwhelmed by the pungent aromas as I waited for Sophie, who had just disappeared through a set of swinging doors into hectic chaos beyond.
She’d promised to show me the ropes, her arms laden with plates on her way to the dish pit—like six plates between two arms. I wondered if I’d ever be able to do that. And if I’d have to pay for the plates I broke.
As I waited, I looked around the seating area. The Red Wheat was a family-style restaurant—famous in town for its extensive menu and generous portions. The carpet was a faded burgundy and hunter-green combination of swirls and flowers; the walls were covered in white-sprigged wallpaper framed by oak woodwork, and green-padded wooden chairs surrounded the burgundy-topped tables. It was homey and comforting, and most of the seats were filled with patrons. I took that as a good sign.
“Okay.” Sophie emerged then, smiling quickly and wiping her hands on her soiled black apron. “Sorry to make you wait. I don’t know why Roger always insists the new people come during the supper rush. It’s really inconvenient, but I suppose it’s a fast way to learn…” Her speech trailed off, and she was moving again, whisking around the restaurant, taking orders, clearing plates, refilling coffee. I followed close behind, feeling awkward and out of place, trying to keep up as she explained menu choices and order writing and how to make the most efficient use of our time .
When we returned to the waitress station, there was another girl there, tall and blonde and pretty, leaning on the counter and talking to one of the cooks through the long, narrow window where food orders were placed.
“Hello, Charlotte.” Sophie frowned in greeting.
Charlie straightened to acknowledge us, flipping her wild curly hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, hey, Soph. Oh, hey—I remember you.” She gave me a little smile. “Mackenzie, right?”
“That’s me. And you’re…Charlotte?” I grinned pointedly.
“Charlie.” She corrected.
“I’m glad you two know each other.” Even then, Sophie didn’t stop moving. She placed her order and went to the fridge to make a salad.
“Mackenzie, I need two large Pepsi, please. Charlotte, you’re late.”
“Sorry, Soph. What can I do?”
“Table seventeen needs ketchup, and table nineteen needs a refill. Are you sure that outfit is work-appropriate?” Sophie paused, taking in Charlie’s ensemble, and I looked over mid-Pepsi-pour to get a good look as well. She had on tight black capris and cute strappy sandals, with a white halter-top deep cut down the front. She looked really, really good, but not like a waitress. I looked down at myself, dressed in nice black pants, black skate shoes and a long-sleeved striped green Henley—and felt bland in comparison.
“What’s the matter with my clothes?” Charlie asked.
Sophie shook her head and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not for me to say. Let Roger tell you if he has a problem with it.” She scoffed, turning to me. “We don’t have uniforms here, Mackenzie.” She advised. “You can wear whatever you want, tastefully, mind you. Keep in mind, whatever you wear will be ruined eventually.”
I smiled. Perfect. Another use for the clothes my mother bought me.
I spent the rest of the night trying to avoid Charlie. I didn’t want to get stuck alone with her, forced to make polite conversation. I followed Sophie like a shadow until she left us to close up.
She did look worn—her thin dark hair falling loose from her ponytail, her eyes smudged with fatigue, her narrow face peaked. She smiled at me before she left.
“You did good tonight, Mackenzie. If I didn’t have to be here first thing tomorrow, I’d stay and teach you some more. You show promise, though. Remember, only two free refills, right? ”
“Right.” I nodded, accepting Sophie’s praise. The restaurant was obviously her life and she clearly knew what she was talking about. I wondered how old she was. And when she became a waitress. And if she did it just to show her parents a thing or two.
“Just you and me, hey?” Charlie leaned against the counter, grinning when Sophie finally left. “Take a moment. Have a drink. Sophie’s always rush, rush, rush.”
“It was busy.” I felt the need to defend the poor woman.
“Yes, it was. But it’s not now. Take a load off.”
I shrugged and joined her at the counter with a drink, placing myself in direct view of the kitchen. I peered through the take-out window, searching for Grey as casually as I could. He was nowhere to be seen, but I did spot Riley hard at work, ladling pizza sauce onto dough.
“Is Grey working tonight?” I asked Charlie nonchalantly, sipping my Pepsi.
“No. Off tonight.” Her smile became an eye roll, and then she shook her head. “Don’t even tell me. You started here for him, didn’t you?”
“What?” I pretended to be appalled; amazed she’d seen through me so quickly. “Of course not.”
“You wouldn’t be the first, honey. But I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you. I’ve seen pretty much every attempt under the sun, and Grey never goes for it.” She shrugged. “It’s the same with all the girls.”
“Hm.” I feigned disinterest. “Well, luckily, that’s not what I’m here for.”
“Right.” Charlie smiled. “My mistake.”
There was still vacuuming to do, the coffee machine to clean, ketchups to wipe…the list went on and on. I had no idea there was so much to a waitressing gig. By the time I plunked myself down at a table to roll the cutlery, my feet ached, my legs stumbled, and my eyes burned with exhaustion.
Most of the kitchen crew were already out front, relaxing at the tables and drinking coffee. A thick haze of smoke hung in the air above them.
“Hey, Mac.” Riley left his table to join me, his checked kitchen duds replaced by street clothes. He sat down with a sigh. “How was your first day?”
“Tired.” Was all I could say.
“It’ll get easier. My first day, I was so overwhelmed.”
“Is it always so busy?”
“Most nights. But your tips will be worth it, trust me. ”
“Tips!” I’d totally forgotten about my styrofoam cup filled with change. I handed it over for Riley to count so I could keep rolling cutlery. “Can I trust you?”
He shrugged and smiled back. “I guess we’ll see.”
We sat in silence for a moment, both bent over the task at hand.
“Not a bad haul.” Riley decided then, jumping up to exchange my small change for bills from the main till. He handed me a few twenties and a ten. I smiled in delight.
“Wow, worth it!” I declared happily. “Let’s celebrate! This is more than enough for a bag. What do you say?”
Riley surprised me by hesitating. He looked at the money clenched in my hand and frowned. “I don’t know, Mac.” He sighed. “It’s a school night.”
“It’s a…school night?” I blinked at him, stupefied. “Since when does that matter?”
“I just don’t feel like being high all the time, all right?” Though he kept his voice low, there was no mistaking the sudden edge to it. He looked at me in frustration. “There’s more to life, you know.”
I was speechless. Never, since the day Riley smoked his first joint, had he ever turned down weed. Free weed, especially. I couldn’t believe what he was saying, the total one-eighty he was pulling on me. Like he’d completely changed since the weekend.
We hadn’t talked much since his mushroom trip. He’d been abnormally quiet when he picked me up for school that morning, pensive throughout the day, but I’d been too distracted thinking about Grey, and work, and Grey, to really pay attention.
Riley had my full attention now.
“What’s up with you?” I leaned forward and lit a cigarette.
“Nothing. Just don’t try to make me do things I don’t want to do.”
“But until, like, three seconds ago, you did want to do these things.”
“Well, I don’t anymore, okay? Don’t get all dramatic.”
“All dramatic?” I repeated dramatically.
“Can you just drop it, please?”
I stared at him a moment. “Whatever,” I muttered. I wasn’t ready to drop it, not even close. It made me anxious. Our relationship didn’t need any more change at the moment; it needed good old repetition and routine until we were comfortable again. Until we were Riley and Mackenzie, just like always.
The Riley and Mackenzie who got high, had fun and were what they’d always been.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Riley softened and gave me a little smile. “It’s hard enough as it is, you know?”
“What’s hard?” I wondered, but Riley ignored me .
“Did you see your schedule?” I guess he considered the case closed.
“…No.” I pouted. “I know I work tomorrow night, but that’s it.”
“Here.” He unfolded a sheet of paper for me to see. “You’re on tomorrow, Friday night, and Sunday afternoon. You’ll probably get more shifts with more practice.”
“When do you work?” I asked, taking the paper from him, scouring it for Grey’s shifts instead—feeling gutted when I noticed he worked a lot during the day while I was at school. Stupid age! But then, not all was lost. He worked the Friday evening shift that week right alongside me.
I smiled at the thought, taking a quick glance at Riley’s schedule. “You and I work together every time.” I realized.
He nodded. “I requested that. Thought I could help you out if you need.”
“Oh, thanks, Ry.”
He shrugged. “No big deal.”
It was a big deal. I was touched. I sat back in my chair and studied him through the curling smoke of my cigarette, taking in his messy hair, his dark chocolate eyes…feeling warm all over. “Riley.” I smiled fondly. “Can we go get high now or what?”
He shot me a look, shaking his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I took that as a yes. “So you’re in then?”
“No. I’m not. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
I frowned as Riley got his stuff together, a flutter of panic settling into the pit of my stomach. I tried to push it aside. He was still Riley. Weed or no weed, he was my friend, my best friend, and he always would be. Nothing could or would change that.
I managed a smile as we walked to the car, but the worry remained.