Falling Fast

“Is she back in Chicago?” I ask, heading toward the door to the building, unhooking the lock, and punching in the code to send the door up.

“Yeah, we have…” She pauses, shaking her head. “We did have a place together.”

“Are you going back?” My gut sinks at the idea of her leaving town and going back to Chicago. `

“I don’t know. If I do, it won’t be for a while.” She pulls her eyes off me. “My grandma isn’t doing so well, so I won’t leave her,” she states firmly.

I watch her pull in a breath as I fight the urge to tug her into me, to hold her and tell her everything will be okay, even if I’m lying to her in the process, just to get that look off her face.

“So your mom said there were some rules about this place,” she says once she’s gotten herself under control.

“Yeah.” I step inside the metal building and go over to the wall, pulling off the clipboard that’s always there.

“If you come here to do a pick-up, you mark off everything you take, always pull from the front, and always, always, make sure you lock up when you leave. Every month, Mom does a count and places an order so we don’t run out of anything.”

“That seems easy enough.”

“It is. We used to keep all this shit at the bar, but a few years ago, some kids broke in and stole everything, and I mean everything. Over thirty thousand dollars’ worth of liquor. No one knows about this place, not even the other waitresses and bartenders.” Which makes me wonder why Mom was showing her. Then again, I could tell my mom had a soft spot for Gia.

“Other waitresses?” she repeats.

“You’ll meet them both at some point. Dena works at the Rusty Rose and The Post, another bar in town. And Macie just works the Rusty Rose. They’re good people. You’ll get along with both of them.”

“Cool.”

“Any other questions?” I ask, stepping out of the building with her.

“Not right now.”

“Good.” I shut the door then head back to the car, with her following my lead. After getting in, I wait until she’s buckled up to pull off.

“Where are we going?” she asks a few minutes later when I pass the Rusty Rose and keep driving.

“I’m starved. I didn’t get a chance to have lunch.”

“I’m on the clock.” I hear the panic in her voice as she looks over her shoulder at the bar that is now a few hundred yards behind us.

“Me too.”

“I need to be at work when I’m on the clock, not out with you because you didn’t get lunch.”

“It won’t take long.”

“You cannot be serious,” she murmurs, and I turn to look at her. Seeing her worrying her lips, I press mine together so I don’t laugh.

Pulling into the parking lot for Ted’s Burgers and More, I park and get out then bend down to look at her in the car when she doesn’t move to get out. “Come on.”

“Come on? You’re not just running in and grabbing something?” she asks with wide eyes.

“Nope.” I slam the door, hearing her say something through the glass, then watch her jerk her seat belt out of the buckle and get out.

Stomping toward me, she shakes her head. “I can’t even call your mom and tell her what you’re doing because my phone is at the bar.”

“Ma will want me to eat.” I smile, placing my hand at the small of her back and leading her into the restaurant.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” I reply, and she lets out an audible huff of annoyance.

Spotting a table in the back, I lead her there then hold out her chair. It takes a few seconds, but she sits. Actually, she throws herself into the chair like I’m asking her to have lunch with the devil. Sitting down across from her, I don’t look at the menu on the table. I’ve been here so many times that I have it memorized.

“Do you know what you want?”

“I’m not eating. I’m going to keep my hands free so I can shove whatever food you order down your throat as quickly as possible so I can get out of here.”

“Pick something to eat, Gia,” I urge softly, and her eyes fly up to meet mine. “I’m not going to rush through lunch. The bar will be fine without us, mom and dad are both there.”

“You—”

“Please,” I say, and I can see the wheels in her head spinning.

“I don’t have my purse, and all I have in my pocket is five dollars.”

“You think I’d let you pay for our first date?” I ask, and her eyes widen and her body stills, even her breathing.

“This isn—”

“I’m kidding, Dimples. I got lunch. Order whatever you like,”

“Don’t call me Dimples.” She grumbles picking up the menu on the table.