Chapter 35
Chapter
For the first time since we started book club three years ago, I had to ask Shawn for a rain check.
Beefies decided to schedule me for a shift tonight, which I get because it’s a Friday and that’s prime time for a restaurant. And theoretically, I should be ecstatic with the extra hours and tips.
But I just want to hang out with my brother and talk about the cozy fantasy we read.
I don’t have much longer with him trusting me to be a part of his life.
With that thought, I didn’t try to find anyone to switch with, and I sent Shawn a message asking to reschedule. He was cool about it because that’s how he is.
I thought getting to wear jeans and a T-shirt to work would be fantastic. After years of wearing that teal uniform for the diner, I figured this would be some kind of freedom. And the jeans are great. I do have to admit that. But the T-shirt…That’s another matter.
I don’t get to wear just any T-shirt, which, okay, I understand. But the one I was given after my orientation is at least one size too small, and the neckline dips like a crevasse. I have to squat whenever serving someone instead of leaning if I don’t want to give everyone a boob show.
But as I view my fellow waitstaff, I wonder if that might be the intention. Not that the other people I’m working with are flaunting their chests. It just seems to be what the uniform is. Not just jeans and a T-shirt.
Jeans, T-shirt, and tits.
And from the way the patrons’ eyes have dropped, always a few inches lower than my collarbone rather than meeting my eyes when they give me their order, I’m coming to realize that the tits are an expected part of the dining process.
It’s not long before I’m missing the buttons that snugly tuck the girls in when I’m at the diner.
You need the money.
You need the tips.
These shifts are what are going to help you pay Shawn back sooner. You can deal with some ogling if it means your brother shuns you for less time.
With that reminder playing on a constant loop in my head, I smile and take orders and laugh at jokes that aren’t funny and ignore how the eyes trace my neckline.
That is, until I walk up to a table with a familiar face.
“H-how can I help you this evening?” I stutter over the first word when I realize that of the three men sitting at the table, at least two of them are members of the flight club.
And one of them is Vernon.
Fuck my life.
I recognize him right away, but I see no reflected recognition in his eyes. Probably because he hasn’t looked at my face yet.
“Well, I sure do love my nights at Beefies. Best view in town.” He chuckles, and one of his tablemates joins in.
The one whose name I can’t remember from the flight club doesn’t laugh along with the crude jest, but he also doesn’t say anything to stop the man.
He just gives me an uncomfortable smile before focusing fully on his menu.
I don’t know what to do. When I’m at the diner, I feel safe and surrounded by the people I love while dressed in an outfit that I now realize is a kind of armor.
If I was there, I would greet Vernon by name.
I would glance over to see if Darla is nearby, with murder in her eyes after hearing his comment.
I’d probably have to make a quick excuse to go stop her from strolling over here and dumping a glass of water on the guy’s lap.
A quick scan of the restaurant reveals no allies. Not because anyone who works here is against me. But they don’t really notice me, either. Everyone here is just working. Just punching a clock. Just earning money like I am. There is no sense of family here.
And in this moment, I realize that despite all the frustrations and annoyances that I’ve experienced at the diner, that place is still home.
I’m not home right now.
And I don’t know what to do other than what I’m getting paid for.
“Can I start you off with some waters?” I keep my voice friendly, yet disinterested, trying to walk the precarious line of being a woman in the food service industry.
“I am feeling rather parched at the moment.” Vernon smacks his lips, and his buddy guffaws.
I want to be anywhere other than here.
I want to be out of the restaurant.
I want to be across town.
I want to be in a tiny cockpit, high up in the air, with a broad shoulder brushing mine.
But I don’t get any of that. I have to stay here, stuck in a loud, busy restaurant being objectified by a man who doesn’t realize who I am. A man I’m going to have to interact with in the future if I still want to become a pilot.
A man George cares about.
There’s a sudden pressure behind my eyes that I’m horrified to realize are tears.
It’s not even that this is the most stressful moment I’ve ever had when serving before.
There was a time in the kitchen at Cornfield’s when my apron literally caught on fire and I had to roll on the ground to put it out.
Technically, that was more stressful than this moment.
And although I panicked and my heart raced then, I honestly would rather be on that grimy tile floor with a charred apron wrapped around my waist than here.
Because I think for the first time in my life, I start to truly understand what my mother felt like, having to go work in an office after what she went through with my father.
That thought makes me feel guilty because I know this is nowhere near as bad as she had it. This is the smallest of previews. I haven’t been tormented by someone I cared about. I haven’t been driven out of a workplace.
But right now I feel so alone, and desperate, and disgusting.
Because I have to keep smiling.
And I have to keep acting like this doesn’t matter. Like he can speak to me as if I’m an object, and I have to take it. I have to stand here and take it and smile.
And I have to thank him.
And I have to see him again.
“Well, look who it is!” Vernon’s stare finally travels up enough to take in my face. “George’s pretty redhead.”
I didn’t think I could feel any grosser, but wow, he managed it.
“Little Miss Beth,” he continues, proving he does know my name. “Haven’t seen you here before, and I’m a regular.” Vernon grins. “Always said Jimmy hires the best waitresses in town.”
I swallow down my toxic discomfort and manage a smile. “Happy to be part of the Beefies team. What can I get for you all tonight?”
“How about a plate full of you?” Vernon’s laughing friend props his elbow on the table to lean closer to me, and it takes everything in me not to back up a step. Not to hand in my notice and sprint into the night.
“I’ll take the mushroom burger, medium rare, side of fries,” the third in their party says, ignoring the creepy flirting attempts of his companions.
The laugher sighs and orders the rib eye.
Then I’m back to Vernon, who is still grinning. And instead of ordering, he keeps up with what I’m sure he considers top-notch banter.
“I’m curious, Miss Beth. As happy as I am seeing your gorgeous face at my favorite steak house, I wonder why you even bother working here?”
I fumble my pen, my nerve endings numb, as if my body is trying to shut down to protect itself from this man. “I…uh, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you have George wrapped around your pretty little finger, of course! Getting free flight lessons and all. I hope he’s not just checking your boxes because you’re checking his.
” The man tuts like I’m a misbehaving girl and he has the right to chide me.
I want to unzip my skin and crawl out of it.
Not that he notices. “Does George know you’re working here?
Bet if you told him, he’d give you an allowance or something. ”
Like I’m a child who wants pocket money. Not a full-grown woman who has been dealing with debt since before I was a legal adult.
But sure, I should just go find myself a rich man.
Except—that’s what I did, isn’t it? Only I didn’t fuck a guy for my money.
I simply lied to him. Told him I was good for it.
Bet if Vernon knew about the cash Shawn gave me, he’d just shake his head with a rueful smile. Tell me my pretty little head shouldn’t worry so much about money, and I should ask George to pay Shawn back for me. That he’d be happy to as long as I keep checking his boxes.
“Interesting,” I manage to push through my fake smile. “How about I get your food order for now?”
And thank the universe, he finally rattles off something from the menu.
For the next hour, I do my best to stop by their table only enough to satisfy my waitressing requirements. Luckily, the three of them get into some animated discussion that has them ignoring me for the most part.
I let out a sigh of relief when Vernon signs the bill and tucks his wallet away. Soon they’ll be gone and then I’ll finish out my shift and shower off this night as best I can.
Or so I thought.
“I need to steal you for a moment, Beth.” Vernon stands in front of me, gaze expectant.
“I’m sorry?” My eyes flick around the busy restaurant, including the group of people at the hostess stand. The table Vernon vacated is going to be filled the moment it gets bussed.
“Just a minute. You can take your break.” He offers me a friendly smile that I can’t find it in me to return. But I also get the feeling that if I refuse again, he won’t back off. He’ll just push more, and I don’t want to be the new waitress upsetting regular customers.
“I don’t have time for a break, but I can walk you out.” That way at least he’ll be out of the way. I turn toward the door, and he falls in step beside me. But of course, he waits to talk until we’re outside on the edge of the parking lot.
“Sorry to pull you out of there, but I wanted to check in.”
“Check in?” The parroted words pop out because I have no idea what else to say to this guy who’s basically a stranger. He’s not my instructor. Definitely not my friend. When Tim asked how I was doing at the plane wash, his concern was genuine. This exchange does not have that same comforting sense.
But I know that Vernon means a lot to George, and for that reason, I’ll keep things cordial.
“Check in about you and George,” Vernon says, and I wonder if he somehow knew I was thinking about our mutual acquaintance.
“What about us?” I manage a mildly curious voice because I am a customer service pro. Seriously, if I ever fill out a résumé, I need to include Expert at bullshitting. Fully capable of lying with every inch of my body.
“Now, you see, I thought you two were some fling. But last I talked to him, he had some real nice things to say about you.” Vernon hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and stares down at me with that condescending smile-smirk. “Made me think he’s got his heart in this.”
“I…” Is that a compliment? An observation?
Is this why he thought George would be supporting me financially?
“And I know you’ve only got a few more hours in the air until you’ve got your license.
Which is a real feat. I was sure I’d never see you again after the first bit.
Women never seem to stick with it for the long run, you know?
” He shakes his head like the thought is a real shame.
“I’ve been an instructor for a while, and I’ve never had a girl who started with me make it through to examinations. Not one. So good for you, Miss Beth.”
I stand still, not moving, not speaking, not sure that I won’t push him in front of the next moving car that passes by.
Oblivious, he continues. “But I’m not looking forward to the day you get your license, then drop George because you got what you wanted from him.
Real shame, using him like that. I know flying time is hard for some people to afford, but you might consider saving the money you earn here and using that instead of taking advantage of an instructor.
Fucking a man for flying lessons isn’t going to earn you anyone’s respect.
” He gives me a smile that’s all pity and disappointment and judgment.
“You think on that. And consider making some better choices.”
Vernon gives one final, definitive nod, as if he needs to punctuate his profound wisdom, then strolls off across the parking lot, the lights on a brand-new truck flashing when he taps a button on his key fob.
Not caring in the slightest about the wreckage he left behind him. The bomb he set off in my head. A lethal combination of fury, mortification, disgust, and…guilt.
Like a robot, I manage to turn around and reenter the restaurant.
My brain is on autopilot as my manager snaps at me about unplanned breaks.
I finish out my shift with stiff movements and the barest attempt at a smile.
When I count my tips at the end of the night, they’re the lowest since I’ve started, and still they’re somehow more than I make at Cornfield’s.
But I’m too withdrawn to care.
I make it home before I feel the shield I’ve placed over my emotions fracturing.
In self-preservation, I bypass our driveway to the dead end of the road.
There I park, turn off all the lights of my car, and crack the windows in hopes that the cool night air will steal away some of the meat scent clinging to me.
Through my windshield is a cloudless night. A sky of black with pinpricks of stars.
I focus on those little lights and try to ignore the itchy feel of saltwater trailing down my cheeks.