Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
FRANKIE
M y phone vibrated in my pocket more than once during my shift, but it was nonstop here. Kids poured in after practices had started letting out. Football players, cheerleaders, members of the band—though the band typically drilled in the morning.
If I wasn’t taking an order or delivering food to a table, I was making milkshakes.
The grind and growl of the machine had become a constant chorus.
My hand and wrist were both getting sore from fighting to scoop the ice cream.
The freezer was broken, in that it had one temperature setting—subarctic.
Still, I supposed that was better than if it were more like the equator. If it wasn’t possible to keep the ice cream cold, we’d have to stop serving shakes. While my hand and wrist would appreciate it, the rest of me wouldn’t.
The bitching from the customers would be epic, particularly while Texas continued to play host to the seventh circle of hell. So, as much as my hand was cramping, I’d take the subzero freezer thank you very much.
“Hey, Curtis…” A familiar voice cut through the din and I lifted a hand, then turned to shoot a smile over my shoulder. Never ignore the customer, no matter how busy you were.
My gaze collided with Rachel Manning’s, who leaned with both hands on the countertop. “Be right with you. One minute.” The sixty seconds was a promise I might struggle to keep but I finished scooping the ice cream, added the syrup and the milk then got this one hooked onto the shake machine.
The other two I had running weren’t quite done yet. There was food in the window, so I snagged that and sailed over to deliver it to the table with some of Bubba and Jake’s football buddies.
“Hey, Frankie,” Rip said. “Settle a bet for us.”
I raised my brows.
“If it’s a quick one.”
Both guys popped their biceps up to show off their arm muscles.
“Who’s bigger? Me or Kent here?” I glanced from Rip to Kent. They were practically the same size.
“Kent,” I said, his was a fraction higher. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
Rip’s whole expression fell as the guys hooted and hollered, but they shook their heads. Leaving them to their great muscle debate I did a sweep of the packed tables.
I just needed to get those shakes out then wait for new orders to be ready, but I thought I had everyone covered.
Scooting back around the counter, I headed for Rachel. I put out a napkin and a glass of water for her. “Sorry about that.” It had definitely been longer than a minute.
“Yeah, making me wait a whole extra thirty seconds,” Rachel deadpanned. “How dare you?”
Amusement tickled through me at the open mocking in Rachel’s expression as she rolled her hazel eyes dramatically.
“I could make it longer,” I offered in a dry tone with a glance at my watchless wrist.
She snorted, sliding onto one of the counter seats. “I appreciate the thought, but I’d rather go ahead and order.”
Grinning, I pulled out a damp cloth from the clean stack and wiped down the counter. I was pretty sure I had already cleaned it up, but better to be sure. “Well, if you insist. What can I get you?”
“Big and thick,” she said, lips twitching. “Innuendo implied but not necessary.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes.
“And a strawberry shake.” But she glanced over at the case. “If you can chip it out of the frozen tundra.”
“I can,” I told her. “It’ll be a minute or three.”
“Sounds good.” She pulled out a notebook and flipped it open. There was reading material in there and she had a pen and paper. When she caught my look, she said, “Homework. I think better when I take notes.”
“God,” I said on an exhale. “I feel that.” Taking notes was definitely how I could commit info to memory faster. The shake machine cut off. “Be right back.”
“Take your time,” she drawled but I was already turning away. Two of the three shakes were done blending and I got them poured, whip cream added, and slid in tall spoons and grabbed straws before whipping out to deliver them.
On the way back, I checked on my other tables, pre-bussing dishes where they were finished, and getting fresh drink orders for those who wanted refills.
Back behind the counter, I sorted the dirty dishes into the bus tubs, then wiped my hands and cleaned out the shake cups and poured the third shake to get it delivered along with food, then got more shakes going.
Heating up the scoop in hot water seemed to help but I was going to end up pulling a muscle at this rate. I caught Rachel’s snorting laugh and glanced over to see her shaking her head.
“Sorry, it’s not funny.”
“No, it’s funny,” I corrected and made a face at her. Then I amped up the drama of trying to free the ice cream and that earned me a real laugh. Once those shakes were started, there were people at the register to pay and more people coming in the door.
I still had two more hours of this. Packing away the exhaustion, I kept moving. Rachel waited patiently for her shake, though her burger and fries were ready at almost the same time.
Despite the temperatures outside she wore her long, dark brown hair in loose waves around her face. Her cosmetics, almost minimal, seemed natural and on point today. Whatever she’d done made her hazel eyes pop and also gave the more angular parts of her cheeks and chin a softer look.
I swore, she could look so severe when she wanted, and yet utterly relaxed in others.
Most of the time, she wore layered outfits—dark jeans, graphic tees, hoodies, and leather or army-style jackets—in a vibe that seemed far more 90s than now, but maybe that was just the nonconformist in her.
She did wear shorts and make allowances for the heat, but not today.
While her look was understated, I admired the confidence she wore like a crown over all of it.
If only I were half that brave. The thought was as much envy as it was irritation.
Rachel and I had such a love-hate relationship.
This week, we seemed to be in “love” mode.
Next week, we’d probably be back to armed enemies again.
Whatever we were, though, I had to admit, I owed her. If she hadn’t told me the truth about the guys, I might never have seen it. In some of my darker moments, I wished I didn’t know. Living in delusion hadn’t been as lonely as this, but the truth was better.
The truth also led to me meeting Mathieu, so I would take what I could get. We stayed almost furiously busy through the dinner rush. Rachel lingered at the counter, working on her homework and swapping her shake for a soda.
She was still there near the end of my shift when Jake came through the door.
The pressure in the room seemed to increase and turn the air almost electric, like a thunder boomer was rolling in.
I had a big tub of dirty dishes in hand when my gaze locked with his for what could have been an endless eternity or a scant few seconds.
Looking away took genuine effort. Since I was almost done, I wasn’t taking new tables.
Marsha, the manager was already on the floor, along with Zabra, the other waitress.
The kitchen would be closed in the next hour.
I just needed to finish my side work—most of which was done, and clean off any tables of mine that emptied before I left.
When I made it back out front, Jake had taken a seat at the counter right next to Rachel and they were glaring at each other.
“Hey, Jake,” I said as I stopped in front of them. “You okay, Rach?”
“I’m fine,” she said, a smirk curving her lips. “Jake’s just reminding me why I nominated him for jackass of the year in ninth grade.”
“Leave her alone, Jake,” I told him. It was as much an order as anything else and it snagged his dour look off of her and onto me.
“You’re off shift, right?”
“In a few, yes. I still have some stuff to do. If you want to order anything?—”
“I don’t want to order anything,” he told me. “I want to talk to you after you’re done.”
Groaning, I stared up at the ceiling for a minute. “I’m tired, Jake…”
“I can wait,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get home too.”
“I have a car,” I reminded him but he just met me stare for stare. Nothing about him said he was backing down on this issue.
“If it’s really an issue,” Rachel interjected. “I have a car and a taser.”
Jake cut a look at her. “Could you possibly just fuck off and leave us alone?”
“Jake!” I punched his shoulder across the counter, not that it fazed him. Hell, it barely moved him—big galumph. “Leave Rachel alone.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but it was Rachel who waved me off. “I’m not worried about him, Frankie. He’s just got a bug up his ass because you called them out on their bullshit after years of putting up with it.”
Another sigh tore out of me.
“You know what, Manning…” Jake’s voice had dipped into threatening territory.
“If you want to talk to me after my shift,” I said, cutting in. “Then you’re going to need to wait for me and stop bugging the customers, particularly the ones who are my friends.”
“Let him say—” Rachel started but cut off when I sliced my hand through the air.
They both glared at each other, then looked away wearing expressions that seemed more akin to someone sucking on a jalapeno-flavored lemon.
“Fine,” she muttered and Jake grunted. It was better than nothing, so I left them to finish my work.
Marsha caught me in the back as I slung a bag over my shoulder. “Everything alright, out there?”
“It’s fine. Jake just wants to talk and he and Rachel rub each other the wrong way.” That was the politest way I could put it.
“If you want me to walk you out to your car, we can shake them both off.” She would do it too. Marsha didn’t take shit from anyone. One of the best parts of working here was having Marsha for a boss.
“Really, it’s fine,” I repeated. “I’m just tired. Jake probably wants me to answer some message that I’ve ignored while I was on shift.”
That reminded me, I needed to check my messages when I got home. Marsha’s frown didn’t lessen. If anything, she seemed more skeptical.
“I’ll keep an eye on you through the window. Just hit the car alarm if you want me out there.” That seemed a bit extreme, but also sweet.
“Thanks, Marsha. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, hon.” She followed me out front. Rachel wasn’t at the counter anymore and Jake waited by the door. He pushed it open at my approach, and the jingle seemed to signify that my ebbing energy could just falter completely now. I really was tired.
It had gotten dark, but the sun setting didn’t do much for the temperatures. If anything, it seemed even stickier out here now than it had earlier.
I made a face because not only was it unpleasant out here, I smelled like hamburgers and fries. Jake walked with me to where he’d parked his yellow SUV right next to my car. Once there, I opened the car up and got it started to get the a/c going then looked at him.
“Did you chase Rachel off?” I kept my tone even, but I did want to know. She’d hung out all evening.
“No,” he answered with a grimace. “Wish I could say I had, but she mentioned something about needing to finish homework or something.”
I nodded slowly. I could always message her later and figure it out. “Okay.” I folded my arms. “What’s up?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just stared at me.
“Jake?”
“I hate this,” he said abruptly. “I hate that you’re pretending we’re not friends. I hate that you’re pushing us—pushing me away. I hate that you’re seeing some guy I don’t know and I definitely don’t like. I hate more than anything the way you’re looking at me right now.”
Every sentence landed like a bomb released in a strafing run. I swore, I could almost hear the whistle of air displacing as they plunged downwards to crash against me.
“How am I looking at you right now?” I couldn’t really address the rest. Not yet.
“Like I’m an asshole.”
Something moved in his pale blue eyes as the light seemed to catch them. It wasn’t anger or defiance. If it had been either of those, I’d have been able to handle it.
But what I saw there took me out at the knees.
What I saw was hurt.
Shit.