Still, she liked the place. The food was wonderful. She worked as hard as she could, trying to find jobs that needed to be done before someone--namely Maria-- told her what to do. Now she was refilling all the olive oil decanters.
"You know," Angie said, coming up behind her, "this could be a great restaurant if people actually showed up. Here. " She handed Lauren a dessert plate that held a piece of tiramisu. "Join me. "
They sat down at the table by the fireplace. The flames flickered and snapped.
Lauren felt Angies gaze on her and she looked up. In the dark eyes, she saw something. Compassion, maybe, with an edge of pity. Angie had seen Lauren that night in the parking lot, and then again at the Help-Your-Neighbor House. There were no secrets now. "It was really nice of you to give me this job. You dont need another waitress, though. " She wished immediately that shed kept silent. She needed this job.
"We will. Ive got big plans for the place. " Angie smiled. "Although I dont know much about the business. Just ask my sister Livvy. She thinks Im going to screw up big time. "
Lauren couldnt imagine that this beautiful woman failed at anything. "Im sure youll do great. The food is amazing. "
"Yeah. My mom and Mira can really cook. " Angie took another bite, then asked, "So, how long have you lived in West End? Maybe I went to school with your folks. "
"I dont think so. " Lauren hoped she didnt sound bitter but it was hard to tell. "We moved here when I was in fourth grade. " She paused. "Its just Mom and me. " She liked the way that sounded, as if they were a team, she and her mother. Still, her family--or lack thereof-- was not something she wanted to talk about. "How about you? Have you always lived in West End?"
"I grew up here. But I moved away for college and got married. . . . " Angies voice seemed to give out. She stared down at her dessert, stabbed it with her fork. "I just moved back home after a divorce. " She looked up, made an attempt at smiling. "Sorry. Im not used to saying it yet. "
"Oh. " Lauren had no idea how to respond. She went back to eating. The sound of their forks on porcelain seemed loud.
Finally, Angie said, "Do you need a ride home tonight?"
"No. " She was surprised by the question. "My boyfriend is picking me up. " As she said it, she heard a car honk outside. She shot to her feet. "There he is. I better go. " She looked down at the dishes. "Should I--"
"Run along. Ill see you tomorrow night. "
Lauren looked down at her. "Are you sure?"
"Im sure. See you then. "
"Bye," Lauren said, already moving. At the hostess desk, she bent down for her backpack. Slinging it over her shoulder, she headed for the door.
THE CROWD WENT WILD.
Like everyone else, Lauren was on her feet, screaming and clapping. A roar moved through the stands. The scoreboard flickered, changed, revealed the new numbers: Fircrest--28. Kelso Christian--14.
"That was awesome," Anna Lyons said, grabbing Laurens sleeve and tugging it hard.
Lauren couldnt contain herself. She started laughing. Davids pass had been beautiful, a perfect forty-yard spiral right into Jareds hands. She hoped his father had seen it.
"Come on," someone said. "Its almost halftime. "
Lauren followed the group of girls down the aisle and onto the concrete stairs. They hurried down to the sidelines, where the various booths were being set up. She took her place at the hot dog stand, where the annual staff was already hard at work. "My turn," she said to Marci Morford, who was busy refilling the mustard jars. For the next half hour, while the marching band moved across the field, she sold hot dogs and hamburgers to the sea of people who drifted along the sidelines, congregating now and then to talk. Parents. Teachers. Students. Graduates. On Friday nights during football season, they all met at the stadium for local games. Everyone was talking about David. He was playing the game of his life.
When Laurens shift was over, she rejoined her friends and watched the end of the game.
Fircrest kicked the other schools butt.
The stands slowly emptied out. Lauren and her friends cleaned up the mess at the booth, then went to the locker room. Outside the door, they stood in a pod, talking and laughing and waiting. One by one, the players came out, hooked up with their girlfriends, and walked away.
At last, the double doors opened and the final few players rushed out, laughing and talking and punching one another in the arms. David was in their midst and yet he stood apart somehow, the way Brad Pitt or George Clooney must have stood out in their high schools. The floodlights fell on him alone, and right then, he appeared golden, from his blond hair to his bright smile.
Lauren ran to him. He separated easily from the pack and pulled her into an embrace. "You were great," she whispered.
He grinned. "I was, wasnt I? Did you see that bomb to Jared? Shit. I was on fire. " Laughing, he kissed her.
At the flagpole, he stopped, looked around.
Lauren knew what--or whom--he was looking for. She tensed up, slipped her arm around him, and settled in close.