Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Weston
Her method of teaching was something I’d never seen before.
Shit. Where were teachers like her when I was growing up?
The students seemed to love her. And from what I could tell, she made something as boring as English literature fun for them.
They called her Sam instead of Miss Hollis.
For some reason, that bothered me. We’d discuss it at dinner.
I couldn’t believe I agreed to the Starlight Café.
I’d passed by the greasy diner my whole life and had never stepped one foot in it.
My grandparents would have killed me if I’d had.
The Castiles didn’t dine in greasy diners.
But tonight, I would for the first time because of a beautiful woman named Samantha Hollis.
She’d been on my mind since our date on Saturday. I’d thought of her more than I cared to admit. When I closed my eyes at night, all I saw was her face and beautiful smile. She haunted my dreams, and it bothered me.
After showering, I put on a pair of khakis and a long-sleeve shirt. There was no way I was dressing up for the Starlight Café. I didn’t want to ruin my good clothes with the grease I was sure I'd drip on myself.
Ben pulled up to Samantha’s building precisely at six forty-five. I was fifteen minutes early and didn’t care. Climbing out, I took the elevator up to her apartment and knocked on the door. I was shocked when it opened, and a teenage girl was standing there staring at me.
“Hello.” I smiled. “You must be Zoey.”
“And you must be Mr. Castile. Come in.” She gestured.
“Thank you.” I tucked my hands into my pants pockets.
“My mom will be out in a minute.” She walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “So, do you have bad intentions?”
“Excuse me?” I spoke.
“My mom.” She twisted the cap on the water bottle. “I’m just asking.”
“That’s not a normal question,” I said.
“It is for me.” She tipped the bottle to her lips.
“Does your mother know you’re interrogating me?”
“No. Should she know?” Her brow raised, and I smiled, for she looked exactly like Samantha.
“No,” I replied.
“Here’s the thing. I could probably like you, but I’m on the fence.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because I’ve liked the guys my mom has dated before. But,” she held up her finger, “this is where it got complicated. One of them cheated. One of them told her that teaching wasn’t a real career, and another told her she was too emotional.”
“Well, she still is grieving the loss of a relationship six months later,” I said.
“That doesn’t make her too emotional, Weston.” She popped her lips.
This kid was unbelievable.
“Are you always like this?” I asked.
“You mean suspicious and intense?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Absolutely.”
“Zoey, have you seen—” Sam stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. Her head bopped back and forth between her daughter and me.
“No. No. No.” She stared at Zoey.
“I was conducting research. Relax, Mom.”
“Please tell me she wasn’t questioning you,” Samantha said.
“I wasn’t questioning him,” Zoey said, and looked at me. “What are your long-term intentions with my mother, Mr. Castile?”
Sam looked horrified as I chuckled.
“I am so sorry.” She grabbed her purse.
“Don’t be.”
“No, seriously. I am so sorry.”
“I like her.” I smiled at Zoey.
Zoey grinned. “I may just like you after all.” She walked away and disappeared into the hallway.
“She reminds me of you,” I said to Sam.
“Should I be insulted?”
“No.” I chuckled. “It’s a good thing. Are you ready?”
“I am. Let’s go.” She flashed a beautiful smile.
Ben pulled down the street from the Starlight Café since there wasn’t anywhere else to park. I climbed out, extended my hand, and helped Samantha from the car.
“Wes?” Ben called my name.
“Yeah?” I stuck my head inside.
“Be nice.”
“I can’t make any promises, Ben.”
The bell above the door jingled as Samantha pushed it open, and we stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was a large chalkboard near the register that read:
Today’s Specials:
Soup of the Day:
Chicken Noodle
Cream of Mushroom
Beef Barley
Margie’s Meatloaf $12.99 (Yes, it’s better than your mother’s.)
Turkey Club $10.99 (Stacked higher than gas prices.)
Chicken Pot Pie $11.99 (Made with real butter, heavy cream, and bad decisions.)
Breakfast Served All Day – Because adulting is hard.
Yes, Karen. We’re still out of pie. But delight yourself with the following:
Ice Cream (10 flavors)
Rice or Tapioca Pudding (Made from scratch)
Good God. Could this get any worse? I thought to myself.
There wasn’t a marble surface in sight. The floors were worn hardwood that creaked every time someone walked across them.
The walls were covered with local artwork, old concert posters, framed photographs of customers, and a corkboard with handwritten notes pinned to it.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked as we grabbed a booth near the back.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The disgusted look on your face tells me otherwise.”
“Hey, Sam.” A waitress walked by and smiled.
“Hey, Rita. How’s Howie feeling?”
“He’s a man-child, but he’ll be okay.” She laughed.
“Evening, kiddo.” A man sitting in the booth across from us held up his coffee mug.
“Hi, Frank. Did Chloe hear from NYU yet?”
“She got in.” He smiled.
“Excellent. Tell her I’m so happy for her and congrats.”
“I will, kiddo. How’s Zoey?”
“A teenager.”
He let out a bolstering laugh. “Enough said.”
“Do you know everyone here?” I asked.
“Pretty much. I’ve been coming here since I was ten, and I’ve been bringing Zoey here since she was a baby. So, Mr. Castile.” She pointed at me. “Don’t try to evict them.”
“I would in a heartbeat if I could,” I mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I wouldn’t dream of it.” I smiled.
A waitress walked over, holding her notepad and a pen in her hand.
“Samantha.” She bent down and gave her a hug. “How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, Linda. I’m so happy you’re back. I’ve missed you. How are you feeling?”
“I missed seeing you, too, sweetheart. I’m all better and back to myself.”
“That’s awesome.” Sam smiled.
“Who’s this?” She pointed at me.
“This is Weston Castile. Wes, this is Linda. She’s been here, like, forever.”
She stared me up and down. I felt as if I were being judged.
“Castile. Castile. As in Castile Properties? The same Castile Properties that tried to evict poor Mr. Avila?”
“That situation has been rectified. Mr. Avila isn’t going anywhere.”
Why I was defending myself to this diner woman, I had no idea.
“What can I get you two to drink?” Linda asked.
“I’ll have a Coke with lots of ice.” Samantha smiled.
“I don’t suppose you serve alcohol here?” I asked.
Linda laughed. “In this hole in the wall? No. We have Coke products, tea, coffee, water, juice, and shakes.”
“Is the water bottled?”
“Listen, Mr. Castile. I know darn well this isn’t your kind of place. And I’m not sure how Sammy here got you to come in, but this is a diner, not Daniel.”
“I’ll have a Coke,” I sighed.