5. Bring All The Emotions
CHAPTER FIVE
brING ALL THE EMOTIONS
Ruby
“Sorry I’m late!” I rush into the Combover and grab a pad of paper and a pen.
I’m not sure how Winnie does it. She remembers every order rattled off to her by memory.
I won’t have the chance to work here long enough to master that.
It proves that when your heart isn’t in it, your brain doesn’t follow.
However, I do know every word to thousands of songs.
I could kick myself for popping off at Payne in front of Devon back in the conference room. If my gig at the manor blows up in my face because I can’t control my mouth, then I might as well be up shit’s creek without a good lip plumper and waterproof mascara.
Winnie sits at a barstool behind the counter next to the register.
Her foot is propped on another stool with her crutches next to her.
“You’re fine, darlin’. I’ve been yelling orders to Carl and people have been pickin’ up their food.
It’s not the first time we’ve had to kick in as a community to eat lunch. ”
I wrap the small apron around my waist and tie it in the front. “I’m so sorry. Devon pulled me into a meeting I wasn’t expecting. I couldn’t very well say no. I’ll scrub the floor to make up for it.”
She waves me off. “You’ll do no such thing. That’s Carl’s job. It keeps him humble. You’re back just in time for the lunch rush.”
This isn’t my first gig waiting tables. In fact, my first job was right here at the Combover in high school. And being a performer in the Big Apple is not for the faint of heart. There were many slow times when I worked in restaurants and bars.
Singing and serving aren’t my only skills. I can pour a mean drink and studied the bartending bible to make sure I was never stumped.
“You really should take this opportunity to stay home and rest. Binge some Netflix or read a good book, Winnie. You don’t need to be here all day, every day.”
She barks out a laugh so high, it almost sounds like a cackle. “Hey, Carl! Ruby suggested I stay home and watch Netflix! Sound familiar?”
Carl sticks his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel that’s tied to his own apron wrapped low around his belly.
“I told her the same thing. The only way that’ll happen is if I tie her to the sofa.
The woman would call the po-po and have me arrested for trying to keep her off her feet. ”
Winnie doesn’t argue, and her smile is as bright as the sun. “What can I say? The people of Winslet would miss me. Your food isn’t the only reason they come in.”
I throw up my hands in defeat. “You can’t argue with that, Carl.”
Carl huffs and turns back for the kitchen.
The bell rings over the door. It’s the high school principal with a few people I haven’t seen before, and a couple of old timers who are retired.
I wouldn’t know that they’re retired, but they’re wearing the statement on the ball caps that barely sit on their heads.
I start to fill cups with ice water before heading to their tables.
I serve the retired club first. They don’t pick up a menu and place their orders.
I bet everyone in town knows the menu by heart.
But that’s only after they explain to me why they can’t have any caffeine after ten o’clock in the morning.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” I turn for the kitchen when one of the men stops me.
“Hey, I heard you were singing last night up at the fancy manor. Alice told us this morning when she was on her walk.”
I smile and shrug. “You know Grandma. She’s proud. Blake played the piano. I guess you can say we’re a family act.”
“Like the Osmonds,” the other man says. “But I guess they were both singers. “Maybe like Captain & Tennille.”
His friend frowns. “That’s not the same at all. They’re married.”
I shrug. “It’s all the same. Blake was amazing. I’m lucky to have him, not to mention I’ve missed him and Grandma so much. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to be back.”
“We should take the old birds for a night out to see the Sinclairs. It’d be a splurge—I heard the manor is pricey.”
His friend leans back and scratches his belly. “Sounds like a plan—though I’d need to drink coffee after ten in the morning to stay awake.”
“You should definitely stop in. If anything, you’ll be helping me keep my new job, right?”
“Only if you take requests. I love The Osmonds.”
I smirk and make a mental note to brush up on Donny and Marie. And I use brush up in the loosest sense possible. I don’t know one Donny and Marie song. “Let me know if you have a favorite and when you’ll be there. I’ll add it to the set.”
He slaps his hand on the table. “It’s a date. We’ll get with the birds and figure it out.”
The bell over the main entrance to the Combover has been working double time while we chat. “I’ll get these orders in and be back with your drinks.”
The moment I turn around, Winnie exclaims, “If it isn’t my Italian stallion. I always feel safer when the police chief is in the house.”
My head whips around to the entrance.
Dean Moretti.
I’ve known him since kindergarten. The Morettis have lived in Winslet for generations.
Grandma keeps me up to date on everyone—even those I don’t want to know about.
Dean moved back as soon as he could after his dad died.
The next year, the old police chief who’d been there for decades retired. Dean got the job.
Dean and I were close in high school. He was always a third wheel when he was between girlfriends. After he dated everyone in town, he moved to the surrounding counties.
Dean’s gaze hangs on me for a long moment before he turns to greet Winnie. “How’s the ankle?”
Winnie glances at him, me, and back to him. I doubt anyone in town has forgotten we were friends back in the day. “You know, still broken.”
Dean’s stare returns to me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but it hangs like a dirty wet rag as he takes a seat at the bar. He finally shakes his head, and his lips barely tip up on one side. “Ruby Sinclair. I never thought I’d see the day. Welcome back to Winslet.”
“Hey, Dean.” I finally make myself move. “And that makes two of us. I need to get these orders in. I’ll be right back.”
Dean reaches over the counter, grabs a clean mug, and pours himself a cup of coffee. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Great. And since there’s no crime in this place, I’m sure he has nothing to do but sit and shoot the shit with Winnie all day. Some things never change.
My past is crashing into me like a wrecking ball. I guess it had to happen eventually. It’s like ripping off the bandage. But damn. These memories were easier to bury in New York City.
I find my backbone and do my best to be chill, even though I’m not at all chill about anything at the moment.
I busy myself with making a new pot of coffee as I talk.
“I see you already helped yourself. Do you want to order or are you just here to hang out until there is peril for you to chase down?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he takes a sip of his steaming black brew. “That doesn’t happen often, thank goodness. I’m in no hurry.”
“Great.” I shove the pot into its cradle harder than necessary and mentally apologize to the ancient coffee maker that can’t afford the extra abuse. “Give me a shout when you’re ready to order.”
“Oh, you’ll know,” Dean mutters.
I do my best to ignore the man who was one of my best friends growing up, though he had another friend that trumped me.
When I made a break for it, I wasn’t surprised whom Dean aligned himself with.
I couldn’t blame him, so I didn’t try to reach out.
Who would want to be a wedge between two friends?
I grab three plates from the kitchen window, balancing one on my forearm, and serve the good patrons of the Combover. I’m back and forth three more times, taking more orders, refilling waters, and topping off everyone’s coffee
Through it all, I’ve managed to ignore Dean as the constant ringing bell over the door makes me move double time. The lunch rush might come and go fast, but I’m hustling as much as I did back in the city.
I serve the retired club and make sure they have enough ketchup. “Do you hotties need anything else before you dig in?”
“Darlin’, you call me hottie one more time, and I just might be back tomorrow.”
“I’m definitely making it to your show now. Maybe you can start singing here at the diner too.”
I grin. “There’s no time. The Combover is just as busy as it ever was. Enjoy your burgers and yell if you need anything.”
And with that, I turn just in time for the bell to ring again. When I do, I’m met with the same whiskey-eyed glare I escaped at the manor.
Payne.
A hush falls over the diner. That hasn’t happened once since I started working here again.
If it’s possible, seeing him for the first time sitting at the conference table didn’t do him justice.
I was right—he is taller. At least a few inches from the last time I saw him.
He spears me with a glare before ambling into the diner, putting one pricey leather loafer in front of the other.
His scowl never wavers as he makes his way to his friend until he finally—no, leisurely in a painstaking way that sends a chill down my spine, and not in the way he used to—arrives at the stool next to Dean.
Dean has swiveled on his seat enough to shift his dark eyes between Payne and me. He hikes a brow and tips his head to the side once as he clears his throat. “Ahem, yeah. I think I’m ready to order now.”
Payne sits and turns his back on me. I slam my fists on my hips and glare right back at Dean and mouth, “Fuck you.”
He shrugs and tips his head in apology.
The least he could’ve done was warn me. I am officially unforgiving him for taking Payne’s side all these years. He’s dead to me other than when I’m working here and have to serve everyone.
I’ve got to keep my shit together. I already lost my cool in front of one employer today.