Atone (The Disciples 2)

Not waiting for his answer, I press end and follow my mom’s scent into the office. It was the first thing remodeled when I took over running our diner.

With fresh paint, fresh carpet, and the mold gone, it looks like a real office now. I bought filing cabinets, a safe, leather chairs, and a real desk.

“Are you leaving?” My eyes widen. We had a super busy day. It’s dead now, but earlier was crazy.

“Oh, Charlize, you scared me.” She puts a hand on her chest and smiles. “I have a date.” Her hands swish in front of her. “It’s slow tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” She bats her long, fake eyelashes at me. My mom reminds me of Christie Brinkley. You know the type: she looks forty when she is, in fact, fifty.

She begged me to allow her to take a loan from the business to get her face “freshened up.” And by that I mean her plastic surgeon did her eyes, tightened her face and neck, and added some implants on her cheekbones so that she’s back to looking like she did years ago. He did a good job. I mean she looks completely fake but incredible nonetheless.

“Look, Mom. I’ve been here all day. You’re supposed to close tonight.” I frown at my nighttime waitresses who walk by giggling like they’re twelve rather than rolling silverware. Pulling my rubber band out of my thick hair, I almost sigh as I run my fingers through the long dark strands. I should have taken it down hours ago. It’s giving me a nasty headache. My mom dumping me for a date and leaving me with Joy and Cindy is absolutely not happening. How the fuck does she get more action than me anyway? I massage my head and glare at her as she hums and looks at her phone.

“Excuse me? No. Mom. I’m not staying. Have your date pick you up later.” I rub the back of my neck, hearing it crack when I roll it.

She blinks at me as if that is the silliest thing she’s heard and taps my nose.

“You need to have more fun, Charlize. You’re only twenty-six. You keep frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles.”

I stop massaging my neck and almost laugh at her vanity. A high-pitched squeal makes me glance over at Cindy and Joy. They’re both acting absurd and making obnoxious noises. Also, Cindy is starting to bounce. Her large breasts look like they’re going to spill out of her low-cut T-shirt. It’s the first of the month and Cindy’s shirts get super small around rent time. I glare, and they both stop.

“Sorry, Charlize.” Joy at least tries to stop despite Cindy’s continued squealing.

“A fucking hot god just sat in my section.” Cindy looks at me like that explains it all.

Ignoring her, I turn my attention back to my mother who perks up.

“Oh really?” My mom peeks her head around me. “I’ll check him out when I leave.” She gives us a wink. “My ride is here.” In one quick swoop, she has her bag, sunglasses, and phone and she’s on the move.

“Wait. Come on… no way.” I almost stomp my foot, but given how immature my waitstaff has been, that’s the last thing I should do.

“Are you kidding me?” My mouth falls open as my mom passes me, a smile on her face. “Sweetheart, I really like this one. And if the tables were turned, you know I would do it for you.” She says all this over her shoulder as I almost run to keep up with her.

When I see the guy standing at the front door, I stop. He’s tall and dark-haired with a small amount of gray at the temples. I groan and turn away. Looking at him would be a mistake. I can’t, or I might laugh at his stupid trendy clothes. But what shocks me most is my mother, who nearly throws herself into his arms for a kiss.

“Wow, you go, Mrs. A.,” Cindy calls over my shoulder. Again, I frown but hold my snide comments inside. I don’t want to be the Bitch Boss. They already think my mom is way cooler. “Not as hot as the god at table seven but still hot in the silver fox way,” she whispers to me.

I turn and look at her. “Stop.”

She smiles and winks. “Good luck.” She wipes down a menu as my mom pulls away enough to giggle and wave me over.

I close my eyes and try to breathe in, plastering on a fake smile. “Hi, I’m Charlie.” I hold out my hand, not even trying to hide that I’m looking for a ring or the mark of one. Ever since my mom divorced my dad, she’s had one disaster after another. With the last one, she didn’t find out until the wife came home early from a work trip. It was a humiliating mess for all involved. From what I can see, he looks clean, but he could be one of those men who don’t wear a band.