46 - Ash
46
Ash
“Order up,” I called for the second time. “Soon to be a dead plate.”
“On it,” Marlene called, leaving the hostess stand to take the plate.
I squinted at the next chit in the queue. A number four combo, scrambled eggs, but they wanted oat milk mixed in the eggs instead of regular.
Oat milk? These fucking people.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. The longer vibration that meant a phone call, not a text. I ignored it. Both of my hands were busy, and the only people who called me these days were telemarketers and my parole officer. And I’d just spoken to Mike yesterday, so it wasn’t him.
The phone stopped vibrating. Then it rang again.
Sighing, I wiped my hand on my apron and dug out my phone. It was Jack.
“Yeah?” I barked.
He spoke.
I listened.
My hand stopped moving on the flat-top. I lowered my spatula, careless of the grease dripping onto the floor.
No .
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be outside in five.”
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, then tossed my apron on the hook. The eggs were starting to burn on one side, but that didn’t matter.
Only one thing mattered in the world to me, and she was currently driving out of town.