CHAPTER TWO
In the ladies room at Argyles restaurant, Tabitha Morgan wiped the tears from her eyes that began to trickle down her face after that scathing rebuke by that older white woman, and after she delivered the drinks at her other table.
She held her head high, determined to not let anybody see her cry, and made her way to the restroom.
It was only one stall, so it was private.
It allowed her to stand at the sink and let the tears flow for a few seconds before she wiped them away.
She hated to be so vulnerable! The least insult and she could hardly take it.
But when that woman called her a failure and said how everybody else her age had graduated from college and made a name for themselves while she was still waiting tables, it hit her where it hurts.
Because she knew she should have been doing better. Because she knew she was a failure too.
Her mother died when she was eleven years old, and her father, who was a jazz musician, was hardly ever around. So she pretty much raised herself and her two little brothers, and even her older sister who was as irresponsible as their father.
Years later, when their father left one night and never came back, she knew she had to do something.
They would have starved to death had she not gotten a job.
So she told the then-manager of Argyles that she was eighteen, which allowed her, at fifteen, to get the job as a waitress.
Now, at twenty-five, she’d been waitressing for a decade.
Even she never expected to be there that long.
She and her siblings all graduated high school, including her irresponsible older sister, and then every one of her siblings fled Ohio as if they couldn’t wait to go.
They tried to stay in touch with Tabby, and she tried to stay in touch with them, but eventually they forgot about her and they all lost touch with each other.
By the time she was twenty, she finally passed the GED.
It took her four tries. She knew she was smart, but she was a horrible test taker.
But passing only encouraged her to keep moving forward.
That was why she enrolled in Larkin Community College, while she was still waiting tables, to try to get ahead.
She did well on all of her assignments, but she didn’t do nearly as well on the tests.
And because she had to retake classes, her GPA suffered and her grant money dried up.
So she quit before they kicked her out. She had to find a different path.
But she had a job that allowed her to work long hours and make extra money, especially after her cousin became the assistant manager, and she had the personality to get great tips. She was able to keep a roof over her head and pay her car note. She was getting by.
And because she was always taught that a bird in the hand was always better than ten in the bush, she decided to stick with the job she had.
And then she got stuck. And then that job became like running on a treadmill where it didn’t get her anywhere, but she stayed on it because she was afraid of losing the little she had.
So she didn’t step off. Which she knew was her fault too.
She washed her face, refusing to even look at herself in the mirror, and then she dried her face with paper towels and tossed them in the waste basket. Then she grabbed another paper towel to blow her nose.
She was just wiping her nose when she walked out of the restroom and saw one of the men that had been at the table with that nasty woman. But instead of going into the men’s room, he bypassed it and began walking up the back hall towards her.
But when he had the nerve to smile at her as if he still thought that shit was funny, it angered her.
She couldn’t lash out when she stood at that table because she knew the manager was nearby and he’d fire her on the spot, but nobody was in that hall.
If he came at her sideways with more of that bullshit, she was going to let him have it.
Although her eyes weren’t red by the time Stuart made it up to her, he could tell she’d been crying. “May I speak with you for a moment?” he asked her.
He could also see her anger as she frowned at him. “Speak with me about what? You got your laugh. You had your jokes. What you wanna talk to me for?”
She was a gorgeous girl, Stuart thought, but she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her little shoulders. And her eyes. They were sooo expressive. He would never forget those eyes.
And although the sadness was still there, he saw fire in those eyes now too. She took it when Jennifer was dishing it out to her. He could tell, by those eyes alone, that she wasn’t taking it anymore. “I’ll be brief,” he reassured her.
Tabby didn’t know how to take him. She remembered how he was the only one at that table who wasn’t laughing at her, which was a plus in his favor, but he was still at that table.
Which meant he was just like them as far as she was concerned.
She wouldn’t dare hang out with people who could be so cruel, unless she was cruel too.
But she wasn’t going to lash out at him when he at least asked politely if he could say something to her. She let him have his say.
But when he asked her name, that stumped her.
Why would her name matter to him? Nobody cared to know her name or anything about her, except for the creeps that wanted to get in her panties, so to have him ask such a question took her by surprise.
He didn’t come across as the kind of man that would be hitting on her.
She was only twenty-five when he looked to be in his mid-forties or something close to that.
But her hesitation did cause Stuart to ask again. “What’s your name?”
His insistence caused her to answer him. “Tabitha Morgan.”
“What do they call you? Because I know your friends don’t go around calling you Tabitha.”
Although he smiled, she didn’t. “Why would that matter to you, sir? I mean seriously why?”
But when Stuart waited for his question to be answered, as if he could wait all day, she gave in. “Tabby. Okay? They call me Tabby.”
Stuart reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out his check book and a pen, and began writing. “Is Tabitha spelled the usual way?” He asked this and then looked at her.
She was confused. And suspicious. What was this about? “Yes,” she said. “It’s spelled the usual way. But why do you need to know that?”
Stuart began filling in the check. Then he tore it out of his book and reached it out to her.
But she didn’t grab it. Nobody had ever given her a nickel without wanting something in return. And she was never going to be the kind of girl who gave out favors for money. “What’s that for?” she asked him.
“It’s an apology,” Stuart admitted. “I’m not here to apologize for my friends.
Only for myself. I apologize, Miss Morgan.
Please forgive my silence. I should have rebuked those at my table, but I didn’t.
I generally don’t get involved with other people’s drama.
I let grownups handle their problems themselves because in my experience, that’s usually the best outcome.
But this was not a problem of your making.
This check is your tip because you attempted to give us excellent customer service that was rejected.
I have no cash at the moment, I’m afraid.
It will have to be a check. But please accept this tip with my apology. ”
He had kind eyes, Tabby thought. But so did serial killers. “If you’re so generous and kind like this,” she said, “why do you have friends like them?”
It was a question no one would dare ask Stuart Jacobs in the real world.
But he appreciated the fact that she asked what was on her heart.
It was an honest question that deserved an honest answer.
“I’m not kind,” he said. “I mind my own business. I don’t get involved. I’m a very selfish individual.”
His brutally honest response surprised Tabby even more. But it made no sense. “If you’re such a bad man,” she said, “why do you care if I get a tip?”
Another great question, Stuart thought. She was sharp. He liked that about her too.
But while he attempted to formulate a response, she was asking another piercing question: “Why are you doing this for me, Mister?” Her eyes were begging for an answer. “The way y’all treated me at that table? Make it make sense.”
He wanted to say that his generosity was because he saw something in her: an innocence, perhaps, that he was unaccustomed to seeing.
But he never delved that deep with anyone.
And especially somebody he’d just met. “I’m doing this, young lady,” he said, “because I can. Because right is still right and wrong is still wrong. And we were wrong.”
She was surprised that he would include himself in that group. But he’d already said he wasn’t kind. And, truth be told, he was in that group.
Or was it a part of the game? Would they laugh her to scorn if she tried to cash that check?
But either way, she took the check. She never turned down tips. She earned those. “Thank you,” she said. “Although most people tip after the service is done.”
“I know. But I’m sure you aren’t coming back to our table any time soon,” he said with a smile. Which made her smile too. “I felt you could use a lift,” he added.
She looked her beautiful eyes into his kind eyes. “Thank you,” she said again.
“You’re very welcomed.” As he was turning to leave, she caught him glancing down her body with an assessing look. Which made her wonder if that “tip” was for more than just good service.