Chapter 8
GEMMA
Because Melinda took me at my word and didn’t come back, I spend the next hour running my ass off between the lunch counter and my regular station.
In addition to the table from hell, I get my usual influx of regulars.
The day shift from the fire station. Hospital workers picking up to-go orders.
Creekers willing to risk their reputation for a piece of pie.
I give them all happy-go-lucky Gemma. Smile when someone says something nice.
Laugh when they try to be funny. Refill cups and run extra sides of dressing.
Thankfully, I’m too busy to get caught up in another table side battle on Mt.
Montgomery. As a matter fact, they’re wrapping it up and filling to-go containers when Melinda finally decides to come back to work.
“Have a nice time?” I ask, my tone heavy with sarcasm while I untie my apron. I’ve had to use the bathroom for the last twenty minutes and am ready to burst.
“I did,” Melinda says, giving me a clueless smile. “Thanks.”
Reminding myself I’m the one who told her to take my break and my lunch, I bite my tongue while I drop my apron behind the counter.
Hustling my way down the hallway, I see Gunner, Cade’s son, standing in front of the ladies’ room door, slumped against the opposite wall, hands dug into the pockets of his jeans.
For a moment, he looks so much like his father that I’m inexplicably and irrationally angry.
“What are you doing?” I ask on my approach, ready to tell him to go find his dad before I tell everyone what a little creep he is for loitering outside the ladies room.
“Waiting for Scar,” he says, flicking a look at my face before re-aiming a murderous glare at the bathroom door.
“Oh, well—” Stopping in front of the door to push my way in, I stall out when I hear muffled voices on the other side of it.
You know what my mom said? She said your mom is a dirty Barrett slut.
No, she’s not. My mom?—
Yes, she is. She’s a slut, your uncle is a murderer, and you’re a bastard. That means no one knows who your dad is.
Whipping my head around to look at Gunner, I can see it on his face—he can hear every word.
“Go back to your table,” I tell him as gently as I can. “Your dad’s ready to go.” Without waiting to see if he does what I say, I turn away from him and push my way through the door.
“Are you gonna cry, little Barrett Bastard?” A girl, about the same age as Scarlett has her cornered, standing over her with her hands on her hips. “I’d cry too if my mom was a dirty?—”
“Hey.”
When she hears me, the little girl harassing Scarlett jumps like I turned the hose on her and whips around, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
I’ve seen her in here before with her mother.
She’s from Clearwater and always orders a chocolate milkshake.
She cries and complains if whoever is making her shake doesn’t give her two cherries in her glass. “I was just?—”
“You were just being a mean little shit,” I finish for her while I shoot a quick look at Scarlett. She’s pale and shaking but she isn’t crying. When she sees me, she stands up straight and sets her jaw. Good for her. Looking back at the girl in front of her, I narrow my gaze. “Take it back.”
“Take what back?” the little girl asks defensively. “I was just?—”
“I know what you were doing,” I cut her off. “Take it back.”
Swallowing hard, the little girl’s eyes dart past me to the door like it’s just occurred to her that she’ll have to run past me if she wants to use it. “I’m going to tell my mom if you don’t?—”
“What’s her name?” I ask Scarlett, cutting the little girl off again.
Swallowing hard, Scarlett flicks a quick look in her direction before she answers me. “Eden.”
“Well, Eden,” I say, hunkering down slightly to look her in the eye. “You can absolutely go tell your mom after you take it back or you can wonder if I spit in your milkshake, every time she brings you in here—your choice.”
“You can’t do that,” she says in a haughty tone that I’m sure she’ll be using twenty years from now when she demands to speak to someone’s manager.
I narrow my gaze down to slits and cock my chin. “Try me.”
Goggle-eyed stare glued to my face, Scarlett’s bully takes less than a second to decide that I’m dead serious before she turns toward her.
“Sorry.” Flicking me another look to see if her half-assed apology is enough to make me satisfied, she quickly realizes it’s not.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett. I shouldn’t have said mean things about your mom.
” As soon as she’s done, Eden turns away from her, shooting me a mutinous glare while she bolts past me.
Flinging the door open, she flees the scene of the crime, leaving Scarlett and me alone.
“Thanks,” she mumbles while knuckling away a stray tear that managed to squeeze past her defenses.
“You’re welcome.” Making my way to the sink, I grab a few paper towels and wet them with cold water before hunkering down in front of her, offering them to her along with a flat smile. “That happen a lot?”
Scarlett takes the wet paper towels from me with a shrug that means yes.
“I had a bully when I was in school,” I tell her. What I don’t tell her is that my bully was her mother or that before the shift that made the lines between us clear and un-crossable, that Sera was my friend. “They suck.”
“She used to be my friend,” she tells me matter-of-factly while she runs the cool lump of paper towels over her flushed cheeks. “Would you really have spit in her milkshake?”
“Yup.” I give her a lopsided grin. “I still might.”
“June would fire you if you did that,” she says, her eyes widening over my admission.
“June can’t fire me,” I tell her while I straighten from my hunker to stand over her. “I make the pies around here.”
“You do?” Scarlett asks, staring up at me like I’m as famous as my brother. “I had the hummingbird cake today because the lemon meringue was already gone—did you make that too?”
“I did.”
“I wish you could make my birthday cake. It’s on May 16th, so that’s pretty soon.” Scarlett grimaces. “My mom’s cake isn’t very good even though she says she follows the directions on the box.”
“My birthday’s the day after, on the 17th,” I tell her with a grin. “Have your grandma call me,” I offer on impulse. “I’ll make your birthday cake if you want me to.”
“You will?” Scarlett beams at me like I hung the moon. “For real?”
“For real.” Giving her a smile, I angle myself away from the door. “You better get back to the table. Everyone was packing up and getting ready to go.”
“Okay.” Turning away from me on a sigh, Scarlett throws her paper towels in the trash on her way to the door. Opening it for her, I find Gunner exactly where I left him.
When he sees Scarlett, he pushes himself out of his slouch and pulls his hands out of his pockets. “You alright?” he asks, his expression grave enough to tell me that while he’s not above razzing his cousin, he’d go to battle for her too.
“Yeah.” Offering him a weak smile, Scarlett nods. “I’m okay.”
“She’s an asshole,” he says while slinging his arm across Scarlett’s shoulders with a devilish grin that makes him look like his father. “I’ll piss on her backpack at school if you want.”
As intended, his outlandish offer pulls a giggle out of her while he guides her down the hall. “You’d get suspended again.”
“It’d be worth it.” Gunner shrugs before looking back to see if I’m still watching.
I am.
Shooting me a chin tip and a smirk, Gunner tightens his grip on his cousin’s shoulder before they disappear from view.
When I get back to the dining room there’s already a brand new set of patrons sitting at the table the Montgomerys just abandoned.
Groundhog Day.
My life is like Groundhog Day.
The same thing, over and over—day in and day out. The only thing different is me and the fact that the monotony is slowly driving me insane.
Finding my apron and retying it on, I ignore her while Scarlett’s bully’s mother shoots daggers at me from across the restaurant. As luck would have it, I know her. Her name is Cheyenne Maxwell and she’s most definitely a creeker.
Shit.
Flashing her a sunny smile, I head for the recently vacated and almost as recently occupied table to start the entire process over again.
“Welcome in,” I say, turning up the wattage on my smile to cover up the fact that I’m counting the seconds until my shift is over so I can go home and cry.
“What can I—” Looking down, I see the check I ripped off my pad and left with Jensen on my way to the bathroom.
On top of it is a stack of bills—way too many of them.
On top of that is a note, scrawled on the back of a receipt.
You can either keep your money or I can keep dragging my family in here to harass you. Your choice.
That son of a…
Scooping it up, I rush after him, too much money in hand, past the hostess booth where June is in the middle of a heated exchange with Eden’s mother.
“Gemma—”
Blowing past her, I shove my way through the front door of the diner, stepping onto the sidewalk, just in time to watch Cade climb into the driver’s seat of his primer gray muscle car and drive away.