My Mom's Ex-Husband (The Forbidden Fun)

Serenity nods.

“True. Are you going to be okay until then though? I’m worried about you, girlfriend. That skirt is really short and looks as if a breeze could blow it up any second.”

I grin.

“That’s the point, Serenity. Hopefully a breeze blows it up and then the customers feel so hot and bothered that they give me their entire wallets.”

The two of us giggle together, but I grimace internally thinking about the big fat zero in my bank account again. If I don’t make two hundred dollars in the next week, I’ll go into overdraft and the bank will hit me with a fee. Then there’ll be interest on the fee, and I’ll probably get another fee just for having a fee. Soon, I’ll owe a couple hundred in interest and fees alone. How do others avoid getting in this quicksand? But Serenity doesn’t need to know about my train of thought. Instead, I just nod and thank her for her concern.

“I’ll be okay,” I say with fake cheer. “Don’t worry about me.”

My co-worker nods and bustles off back to her section, her brown ponytail bouncing. I’m lucky to have Serenity because things are just easier when she’s here at the diner. Her positive outlook on life always helps, especially when I’m suffering through a really crazy shift.

It’s funny too, because we look enough alike to be sisters. In fact, sometimes the older cook in back mistakes us for each other, as if we’re clones. I don’t mind though because Serenity’s spunky and cute with an infectious laugh and a glow about her. In fact, she almost never wears makeup but still looks beautiful.

But my friend’s right. Does life have to be this hard? It seems unreasonable, given how hard we hustle each day. Then again, I should count myself lucky because I know if I asked my dad for help, he would give me some money to tide me over. But I’m too proud for that. I’ll keep picking up shifts and dressing sexy in order to get extra tips.

Meanwhile, Serenity comes back with a pencil tucked behind her ear and grabs a towel from the counter.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask: what happened to that guy you were seeing a couple months back?” she burbles.

I sigh and mock frown. “Jimmy turned out to be a real jerk. I thought I found someone real, but you know what? He was cheating on me the whole time. Even worse, I kind of get the feeling that I was the “other woman.” Like he’d been dating his primary for a while, and I was the side piece.”

My friend’s mouth drops open.

“Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Yeah, isn’t it crazy? I swear, I was so clueless and didn’t suspect until the very end, when I found a diaphragm in his backpack. I mean, why would a man be carrying a diaphragm when I don’t use one? He tried to pass it off as a joke, but how could that possibly be funny? It was so ridiculous, and I broke up with him on the spot.”

Serenity’s practically speechless.

“Wow. Just wow.”

“I know,” I say. “That’s why I think she was the primary though. They were clearly long-term if she was using a diaphragm. Jimmy and I just used condoms.”

Serenity shakes her head again.

“I’m sorry, girl. I know you liked him. But hey, that means you’re free to flirt as much as you want today!”

I make a funny face.

“Sort of. I mean, it’s just for the money because I’ve sworn off real dating, at least for a little while. I’m too traumatized from the whole Jimmy thing.”

That makes Serenity burst out with laughter.

“Come on, we’re young! You’re not that traumatized! Honestly, the story’s kind of funny. Just a teensy-weensy bit, you have to admit.”

I giggle. “You’re right, but I’m not ready. Seriously, the situation with Jimmy was just too lame and I’m taking myself out of the dating game for a while to recuperate.”

Serenity grins. “Well, okay. Besides, I’m sure you’ll make your tips today because I happened to see a big spender get seated in your section just now.”

I make another funny face while pulling my skirt straight.

“Hmmm, so that means he’ll order a deluxe milkshake instead of the regular? With five cherries so we can charge extra?”

Serenity lets out a peal of laughter.

“Exactly! Maybe some extra whipped cream too, so we can charge double.”

We both giggle because there’s no way the diner would charge for those tiny add-ons.

“Well, wish me luck then,” I say in a wry tone. With that, I tie my apron around my waist tightly, grab my order pad, and head around the corner to my section. It’s time to get to work.

Harry’s is a small, old-school diner with a juke box and neon lights. The floor is shiny with black and white checks, just like the diners in movies, and the booths have red padding. In a nice addition, there’s a bud vase at each table with a pink carnation inside, and I love it. It gives the place a personal touch.