Chapter 1 #2
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Look at this outfit. Am I the type you take home to mama?”
“You’re a kindergarten teacher,” Marty said.
“By day,” Alissa said. “But at night I’m a cocktail waitress in a questionable club.” She grinned to let them know she was teasing. Kind of, anyway.
“Off with you,” Rif said. “I’ve had enough of your sassy mouth.”
Here’s what Alissa had learned during her tenure at the club.
People, like Rif and Marty—good people—were in all walks of life.
One didn’t have to be a pastor to be a good person.
In fact, one’s profession had nothing to do with the compassion of one’s heart.
Maddie had always taught them to be openminded, to remember that it was not a human’s right to judge another.
That right was reserved for God. This lesson had been hammered into Alissa’s consciousness since the first night she put on her waitress uniform and met some of the other girls.
Before this experience, she might have judged them for their choice of work.
Not now. She liked this about herself, that she could see below the surface of a thing and understand that life was complicated.
One’s journey was not always the straight path one wished it to be.
There were boulders that crushed, mountains to climb, rivers to cross.
We were survivors, she’d often thought over the years.
The experiences of her sisters and Maddie were proof.
What she and her sisters had survived, prior to Maddie making them a family, had changed them, marked them forever.
Yet, all the good and bad mingled together to form the complex, phenomenal women they all were.
Even me, she thought, as she dabbed a wet spot on the side of one of the martini glasses.
She might not be as smart or ambitious as her sisters, but she had a calling.
Those little ones in her class, especially the ones from families struggling financially, inspired her to bring her all every single day.
The foundation she gave them would take them through their whole lives.
Someday, she would look back and know she’d impacted the world in her small way.
She lifted the tray of martinis, thanking Rif, and headed back to Marsh and his companions.
At the table, she placed the extra dirty one next to the dirty old man, careful not to get close enough that his hand could grab her bottom.
She set the other two martinis in front of the generic suit guys, then gave the last one to Marsh.
“That’s a balancing act,” Marsh said, gesticulating toward her tray.
“My family appreciates your care. We think every drop of our vodka is precious.” He said this with a self-deprecating smile that matched his vocal tone.
She liked him, this handsome Marsh, with his kind eyes and good manners.
There was a quality about him, perhaps the precise way he moved and his squared shoulders, that reminded her of another era.
A time when men kept their eyes focused on a woman’s face instead of her chest .
The others at the table? Not so much. At times like this, she wanted to grab the nearest jacket and slip it over her shoulders.
No whining, she told herself. This was the only way to help Sophie.
She smiled sweetly and asked if they’d like anything else.
“We’re good for now,” Marsh said. “Thank you.”
They exchanged a quick smile before she scooted off to the next table. The rest of the night passed quickly. Jed Marsh and his friends stayed for another round of drinks before leaving around midnight. As expected, Marsh paid the bill. She smiled to see the thirty percent tip he left her.
After closing time, she counted her tips at the bar, while Rif and Marty cleaned and put away glasses and mugs.
It had been a good night. The dancers were always wound up by the end of the night, so those who didn’t have to be home right away were enjoying a cocktail at one of the empty tables.
She would have expected them to be too tired to talk, but they chatted away about this and that.
Alissa was too tired to even listen but enjoyed the familiar cadence of their voices and their laughter.
“Jed Marsh asked about you,” Rif said.
“He did?” She cringed at the high-pitched schoolgirl tone of her words.
“I told him you were single,” Rif said. “But that you’re one of a kind and perfect, so if he’s interested, he has to prove his worthiness first.”
“Rif, you didn’t?”
“If he’s worth his salt, then he’ll rise to the challenge,” Rif said, shrugging.
“Who exactly does he have to prove his worth to?” Alissa smiled, knowing the answer.
“Me, for one,” Rif said. “I can’t have him waltzing in here and thinking he can take you out just because he’s rich.”
“Me, for two,” Marty said .
“And what does this dog and pony show look like?” Her grandmother, Nan, used that phrase, and it always made Alissa laugh, imagining a dog and a pony dancing a jig.
“I told him what’s necessary,” Rif said. “The first step is flowers, with a request for a dinner date. I made sure he understood you would not be picked up so that he could murder you in his car.”
“Rif, I don’t think he’s a murderer,” Alissa said, laughing.
“Until we know for sure, you will meet him at the restaurant.”
“He hasn’t even asked me out yet.”
“If he does as asked, there will be flowers and a card delivered here tomorrow,” Rif said. “We’ll wait and see.”
“You two probably scared him away.”
“So, you would go out with him?” Marty asked.
“I mean, I guess so. He’s cute and has exceptional manners. Other than the goon he was with, he seemed nice.”
“We’ll see about that,” Rif said.
Alissa gathered her bills and blew both men a kiss.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” They really were the dearest, sweetest guys around, even though they were ridiculously overprotective of her and the dancers.
She could remember her father being that way too, joking that she wouldn’t be allowed to date until she was thirty.
In the dressing room, she peeled her uniform from her tired body and pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt. Rif had a rule that they were not to walk to their cars alone. Millie was ready to go, thankfully.
“Let’s do it, girl,” Millie said. “I could sleep for a week.”
“Me too,” Alissa said. She clocked out, calling good-night to the girls who were removing makeup at the bank of mirrors in the dressing room. They all gave friendly waves before Alissa and Millie stepped out the back door.
It was raining, as usual. Seattle was a fine town, other than the rain and the fact that normal people couldn’t afford the rent. Under the protection of the awning, she rummaged for her umbrella in her handbag and realized she’d left it at home.
“Where are you?” Alissa asked, as she scanned the cars and trucks in the mostly empty parking lot.
“Just two from you,” Millie said. “My car broke down last week, so I bought a new one. Not that I could afford it with tuition due, but I have to get around.”
“I hear you,” Alissa said. “I’m worried I’ll need to do the same soon. Last week, mine wouldn’t start and I panicked.”
“How’s Sophie?” Millie asked, as they made a run for their cars.
Everyone knew the story of Sophie’s accident. They’d all been rooting for her recovery.
“She’s much better.” Rain pelted Alissa’s face and drenched her hair.
She really should have worn a coat. Spring in Seattle was temperamental.
Cherry trees bloomed in brilliant pink, but the days were as cold and damp as they had been for months.
“They let her out of traction finally. She’s home but still not able to get around much.
The physical therapist will help once the casts come off but that’s another month away. ”
“What a nightmare.”
“It has been, yes.”
They were at Millie’s car by now. “Does that mean another month for you here?” Millie asked.
“At least.”
“You’re a good friend,” Millie called out, as they parted ways for their cars. “Sophie’s lucky to have you.”
Alissa thanked her and sprinted the rest of the way to her car.
Once inside, she locked the doors and waved to Millie that she was good.
She set her bag on the passenger seat and wiped her face with a tissue she kept in the console.
Shivering, she blinked as Millie’s lights illuminated the interior of her car.
She put the key in the ignition and turned.
The car’s engine sputtered. She cursed and tried again.
Same sputtering sound. The engine would not turn over.
One more time, she turned the key. Nothing.
She smacked the steering wheel. Rif or Marty would have to give her a ride home—but they were probably thirty minutes away from closing up for the night. She sighed, weary and feeling a tiny bit sorry for herself. Okay, a lot sorry for herself. All she wanted was her bed.
A tap on the passenger’s-side window caused her to jump, then scream. A face appeared, blurred by the rivulets of rain down the window.
Jed Marsh. She could just make out his square jaw and dark hair. If he was a serial killer, she was about to find out.
She cracked the window. “You scared me half to death,” she blurted out, her heart still pounding hard in her chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I forgot my overcoat and had my driver circle back to pick it up after we dropped the guys at the hotel downtown.”
She narrowed her eyes. His hair was completely wet. Droplets of water pooled on his long, black coat. Even with his dark locks plastered against his forehead, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“I’m Jed Marsh, from earlier. I was at your table.”
“I remember,” she said. “It was mere minutes ago.”
“Right.” He wiped water from his eyes as the rain continued to pound him.