“Mathias,” Remy scolded, “get over here and greet the girl properly.”
Mathias grumbled, much the way Liam did over most things, and stood. He walked over and held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand. To his wife, he asked, “Does that suffice?”
“Good enough,” she remarked, grinning at him. They seemed to be communicating silently with just their eyes—the way only certain people could.
“I need to get to work.” I took a step away and their attention moved to me. “I work at Mo’s; I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. It’s just down the road not too far. If Liam doesn’t come back and you get hungry, just come on by.”
“That sounds so nice. I’m sure we will.” Remy smiled brightly at me.
I nodded once and headed for the garage. Behind me, they began to speak in hushed tones, and I swore I heard Mathias say, “She doesn’t know.”
If she was me, what was it I didn’t know?
***
From the moment I set foot in Mo’s, I didn’t slow down. There was a constant stream of orders to take, drinks to refill, and food to carry out.
Little pieces of hair fluttered around my face, and I batted them away. It was time to re-do my ponytail for the fifth time. I could never get my hair to stay back for long; it demanded to be set free.
I finished taking an order and breezed over to the computer to enter it.
I’d picked up on things fairly easily and Rebecca had long since stopped helping. If I had a question I sought her out, but it was rare.
While I was entering the order, she came over to me and leaned against the counter. “I’m exhausted, and I have two more hours on my shift.”
“Me too,” I groaned.
“We should do something Monday. You’re off, right?” she asked, scrubbing a hand over her tired face.
“Yeah. What do you have in mind?” I asked nervously.
“The mall?” she suggested. “It’s not like either of us really has the money to buy anything, but it would be fun to do something different.”
“Sure,” I agreed with a shrug.
“Yay!” She clapped her hands together. Glancing up, she muttered, “I gotta go. Table three is waving for me.”
I laughed and finished entering the order.
I stuffed my notebook back in my pocket and headed into the kitchen to see if one of my orders was ready. One was, so I grabbed a tray and began piling the plates on. When I first started, I’d stared in wonder at the waiters and waitresses effortlessly carrying the heavily-loaded trays. I’d believed there was no way I could ever master that, but I had.
I carried the tray out and placed the plates on the table.
“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” I asked.
“Nope.” The man shook his head. “I think we’re good for now.”
“I’ll be by to check on you in a few minutes.”
I went to one of my other tables and grabbed glasses for refills. I found that keeping myself busy helped the time go faster. Some of my colleagues preferred to only make a few trips out to tables and then busy themselves in the back on their phone. That wasn’t for me, though. Granted, I didn’t have a phone, but even then I couldn’t imagine myself being that way. I was there to work, and I wanted to provide the best service I could so I could make big tips.
I returned the refilled drinks with a smile and checked on my other tables, bringing people extra napkins and ketchup when they asked.
When my shift finally ended all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.
Home.