His Father

“Humble,” I giggle, yanking on his necklace again. “Do you think he’ll let me draw him naked?”

Maddox chokes on a laugh and pretends to vomit. “You’re not… digging him, are you?”

“Ew, I mean, no, he’s nice to look at and I’ve got literally every other body shape drawn. Your dad is like, all muscle.”

He shudders. “I’m staying out of this one, I can guarantee it’ll be a definite no.”

I try to hide my disappointment but it sucks because it’s all for the art.

“Besides, I’m all muscle!” Maddox declares, flexing his biceps.

“Yeah, but I already drew you and he’s twice your muscle size.” Well, he’s bigger but not twice as big. “It’s good you follow his workout regime and a shame you don’t pay attention to his good sense of hair styling.”

Feigning offense, he shoves me so hard I stumble off the stool and fall onto my side. We both laugh until I kick his stool out from under him and he joins me on the floor. I screech and scramble on the wooden surface to get away when he grabs my braid and digs his fingers into my sides.

“No!” I laugh so hard I can’t breathe, he’s relentless. He doesn’t stop, pinning me by straddling my chest. “UNCLE!”

He finally stops, climbs off me and offers me a hand as I pant and gasp for breath. I take it and let him pull me to standing. I slap his chest for good measure.

“Morning.” Sargent enters the room with his empty plate. “Sorry for being rude, I had to make a call, are you hungry, Maddox?”

“No,” Mad replies, still beaming. He rubs his hip, the one that he landed on when I kicked the stool out from under him. “I’m okay. The leftovers were epic.”

“Good.”

“When do you want me to start work?” he asks. “The sooner I have a steady income the better.”

As Sargent replies I take our plates to the sink and figure out the weird tap with a shower head that you can move around, I’m assuming it’s to rinse the plates off. I like it.

“We have a dishwasher,” Sargent snaps, no longer talking about getting his son on his own team. “That really isn’t necessary.”

“It’s three plates and a pan,” I reply, looking at the dishwasher door and yanking it open. As expected it’s empty.

“Dad.” Maddox clicks his fingers to get his father’s glowering eyes off me. “Work?”

Sargent

“You can start Thursday,” I reply. “But don’t think we’ll go easy on you because you’re my son.” I look at our guest. Her presence alone infuriates me. “Will you be getting a job?”

“I actually already have one,” she responds, smiling sheepishly and my son looks at her with such adoration.

“Really?” I am intrigued. “Doing what?”

“I’ll be starting at that diner near the freeway on Saturday.”

“Bill’s Space?” I ask and I look at my son who still has that look in his eye. Boy does he have it bad.

“She’s also an incredible painter and even better at drawing.” Maddox twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it.

“But please don’t worry, I won’t use any paints or anything in your house,” she blurts, looking sideways at my son.

“We’ll find a space for you,” Maddox offers, turning away from me completely. “Maybe in the yard. Right, Dad?”

I don’t reply. As much as I appreciate art, finding her a space will just entice her to stay.

My phone ringing saves me from replying. I walk away, trying not to think about the visual she planted in my mind, of a cane hitting her tanned skin.

Tempest

This morning when I read the note on the counter, the one wishing me the best of luck at my first day of work, I had thought it would bring me the luck it wished for me. I was wrong. Today was hard, so hard. The diner in question is busy, extremely busy, and I just can’t wrap my head around this payment system. Two dollars an hour and the rest in tips? I hardly made fifty quid for ten hours’ work. People in such a rich area of the state are tight with their tips.

I mean, yeah, okay, I get that I’m new and I made a few mistakes but still.

Plus, the other women who work there are cliquey and bitchy and kept taking my tables.

Still, I grinned and got on with it. My new boss, Bill himself, who gave me the job over email after taking pity of my circumstances, told me he was impressed with how hard I worked and gave me a welcome bonus. That brought me up to seventy dollars for ten hours of nonstop work. I got lunch too, so it wasn’t so bad.

Bill seems like a nice guy, a bit overweight and breathless, and a bit sweaty smelling but I could tell he had his heart in the right place.