Chapter Six

Tempest

“Thank you, see you soon!” I wave the family out of the door and quickly clean their table, ensuring the sugar pourer, menus, and sauces are fully stocked too.

The place isn’t as busy as yesterday, but it’s not empty either. Mostly single men come in, big guys in their trucks and lorries that they park across the way on the gravel carpark, or businessmen looking for a quick meal before making the commute to work.

There’s one thing I’ll say about this area, the men are H.O.T. HOT. And not in the warm sense of the word. They’re gorgeous. Just because they’re gorgeous. They take care of their bodies, their dark skin shining, their tan skin glowing, their pale skin steadily burning. Their smiles lovely and friendly, their banter charming. They give me the most tips so long as I meet all of the social cues and my accent sends them wild.

“You’ve improved a lot since yesterday,” Bill comments when I bring a new order to the till. This is from creepy trucker with a tatty cap by the window.

I will never wrap my head around pancakes with syrup and bacon. Together. It sounds like a pregnancy craving, not an everyday breakfast meal.

Speaking of breakfast, I was good and ordered porridge for mine with a cup of weird-tasting tea on the side.

“I usually pick things up quickly enough.” I smile in return and turn to look at the door when it jingles.

I beam from ear to eat, unable to contain my excitement when Maddox strolls in with his father who is looking around the place as though it’s covered in shit, not pretty gray stripy wallpaper.

“Just a second, Bill.” I stroll to Maddox and hug him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to make sure you’re working hard,” he replies and I guide them to a booth in my section.

I have a section today, unlike yesterday, though the girl I’m working with called Sabrina goes out for a fag break every two minutes so I’m constantly watching her section too.

Bill either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Or perhaps he’s just not in the mood to battle with her about it this early in the day.

“Menus are on the table, take a look, I can’t recommend anything but the porridge or burger,” I admit, shrugging. “Can I get your drinks?”

“VOS water,” Sargent says, and I scribble that down in my little notepad with my fluffy-topped pen.

“Chai tea latte.” Maddox yanks the menu out of the holder.

“Coming right up.”

I move to Bill who is eyeing our guests curiously.

“My closest friend and his father.”

“That’s Sargent Wolf,” he breathes, looking at the man who I live with nervously. I try not to laugh again at the name but whenever I hear it I wonder if Sarge’s parents were playing a cruel joke on him. He sounds like a character off Nickelodeon, not a millionaire bachelor with a successful partnership in an international business. “He’s in my diner.”

Is he some kind of local celebrity or anomaly? Perhaps a serial killer?

“Cap wants you by the window.” Bill nods to the creepy trucker with his faded blue cap and white shirt with greasy stains down the front and yellow stains around the armpits.

I approach his table with a smile like at any other table and get my notepad ready to add to his order. My memory is good enough but the foods here are different to back home, I don’t want to mess up.

“How long will my food be?” His voice is gruff and scratchy, I try not to cringe at the strong stench of stale fags coming from his dirty self.

“I’ll just check on that for you.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he murmurs as I walk away and I vaguely hear him comment, “Sweet ass.”

But I ignore it because I work for tips, not for an hourly wage.

Bill dings a bell on the counter. “Drinks, Pest.”

I grab a round tray and place the drinks onto it while asking, “How long on Cap’s food? He’s asking.”

“He ordered ten minutes ago. This isn’t Burger King,” he grumbles. “Tell him another ten minutes at least. Perfect pancakes like ours take time.”

I nod and carry the tray carefully to Maddox and Sarge who are both still looking at their menus.

“Any idea what you want to eat?” I tuck the tray under my arm after putting their drinks before them and pull out my pad and pen.

“Oatmeal with blueberries and maple syrup,” Maddox says and looks at his dad who tosses his menu down on the table and relaxes back in the bench seat.

“Same, minus the syrup, extra blueberries.”

“Fabulous,” I singsong, still smiling as I scribble. “This reminds me of when we met.”

Maddox nods. “I was just thinking that.”

“You were a waitress?”

“No, but I thought she was. Called her to my table in Thailand. She was wearing this black dress that was so similar to all of the other servers.”

“I thought he was hitting on me and then he just looked at me and said…”

“VOS!” We both burst into laughter together.

I add when I’ve calmed enough to talk, “Except he said please.”

“Funny.” Sarge rolls his eyes. “And you’ve lived a fairy tale ever since.”

“It has been pretty smooth sailing, hasn’t it, Pest?”

I nod, smiling warmly at my friend. “Let me get your orders in and I’ll be back.”

I rush their ticket to Bill who takes it and hobbles to the kitchen, handing it to the cooks through a hole in the wall.

“Hey!” Cap yells and I cringe. I got distracted.

I race over to him, smiling nervously because he looks really pissed off.

“I’m sorry,” I immediately say. “Bill tells me it’ll only be a few more minutes while…”

“You gonna give me the same hug you gave that faggot when he walked in?”

Did he really just say that? Is faggot still an insult used these days? It’s disgusting.

“I… I… umm…” I stammer, glancing at Maddox over my shoulder and finding his eyes on the man. I don’t think he heard him call him that heinous word, but I know he heard him shout “hey” at me. “They are perfecting your pancakes as we speak.”

I walk away before losing my temper and stop at another two traveling men as I pass. They are much politer and eager to smile at me.

“You okay?” Maddox asks, his brows pulled in with a frown. I notice Sargent’s eyes are on the man too. He looks livid.

“I’m fine, honestly, he’s just hungry.” I wink at Sargent this time and smile when he raises a thick, pointed brow. “Your porridge won’t be long.”

“Oatmeal,” Maddox singsongs.

“Porridge,” I singsong back.

“Porridge sounds tastier than oatmeal.” Sargent shrugs, looking human and less annoyed for once in my presence. Also, he just agreed with me. Hell has frozen over.

“The same way pussy sounds better than vagina.” Cap roars with laughter at his own joke, banging his hand on the table which startles the rest of the room, including Sabrina who has finally returned and is wiping down the clean tables in her own section to make it look like she’s working.

Which means, if he can hear us then they heard him and what he said.

I sigh.

“Speaking of pussy, walk yours over here with my breakfast.” He looks at Bill. “Least she’s nice to look at, if not a bit slow.”

“Leave it,” I say to Maddox when he shifts in his seat.

Bill rings the bell so I scarper away, quickly grabbing the rude arse-wipe’s breakfast and taking it to him.

“Now that’s more like it.” He grins, showing yellow teeth beyond his bristly, graying moustache that hangs over his top lip. “Do I get my hug now?”

“I don’t know you,” I reply, trying to look apologetic. “I’m not a hugger.”

His lip curls with a sneer, raising his moustache to his nose. Yep. I just lost my tip.

I move to Bill and grab the drinks from the counter, getting back to work.

Sargent

Does this attitude work for him? Does he get laid when he speaks to and treats people badly like this? I have to say, I admire the girl’s professionalism and calm. I’m on the edge of my seat and I don’t even like her all that much. I respect her but I don’t like her. I don’t trust her. Though she doesn’t deserve this.

She brings over our oatmeal and rolls her eyes when I clean my spoon with my water and a napkin.

“It’s clean,” she snaps but I see her lips twitch.

“Your version of clean and mine are very different,” I respond, referring to the fact she dropped an orange segment on the floor the second day she was here, picked it up and ate it anyway without rinsing it.

“Are you trying to say I’m dirty?”

“Well, you’re not what I would call clean by my standards.”

“He’s OCD, you’ve seen his house,” Maddox replies, touching my pinkie finger gently. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You say that about everything he says,” she snaps, pulling her hand away. I watch her close her eyes and count down from four before plastering a new smile on her face.

“I didn’t see popcorn on the menu, surely it should be provided when receiving a show with food?” I comment and she actually takes a step at me.

“Okay.” Maddox stands and places his hand on her stomach as I smile at her in a way I know is pissing her off. I really do rub her the wrong way.

Her pretty hazel eyes glower at me but I just find her even sexier than usual. I love it that I can piss her off to the extent where she wants to rip out my hair, but dirty fucktard near the window can’t even get her to drop her smile.

Does she find me attractive?

All signs point to yes. Now isn’t that an interesting development?

Especially now that Maddox has declared he’ll be going to England with her in six months for a while when her visa expires, which will likely turn into forever. It was a conversation we had on the way here when discussing work.

Why couldn’t he have fallen for a local girl? There are so many.

Though I must admit not many quite have the same charm as his little Pest.

If any charm at all.

“Stop being a jerk,” Maddox snaps and I know I might have gone a bit too far this time. I’m purposely goading her but my son keeps defending me. It’ll be their downfall.

Here’s hoping.

“I wasn’t,” I lie, using my most innocent mask.

He doesn’t look as though he’s falling for it.

Moments pass before the man by the window shouts, “HEY!” like before. My hands clench on the table, on either side of my nearly empty bowl. The oatmeal isn’t as bad as I thought it would be and the blueberries were fresh and clean.

She takes his bill to him, without even asking and waits for him to cash out. He’s whispering something to her but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. The twitching of her fingers tells me she’s really struggling to stay calm now.

I’m ready to go over there myself when she finally turns with his money in hand and he whistles loudly, stands and grabs a handful of her ass.

“Fucking nice,” he chuckles.

My eyes cloud over with red and I stand from my seat, so does Maddox, but before either of us take a step she’s turning on him.

Her fingers grab his nose and she twists. There’s an audible pop, a gruff cry of pain, and then, when she plants her knee in his groin, he goes down. One hand to his nose, the other to his limp dick.

The Pest has some fight in her.

“Ah shit,” she mutters and brings her notepad to her face.