No one really batted an eye when we came into this restaurant called the Swift Shack. Everyone minded their own business, which I absolutely loved already. This hardly ever happens.
Miller was talking to Wendy; I had a feeling he would be going back much sooner than even I anticipated.
He got off the phone right as the waitress came up to the table. I could see her scanning us from the corner of my eye, and when I turned my head… I had just seen an angel.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was absolutely beautiful. Her dark brown hair and those gorgeous green eyes. Not to mention her body in that outfit.
Those high-waisted shorts were doing her justice. Those long legs… I was smitten.
It wasn’t until she got to me to take my order after getting our drinks that the light caught her face in a way that I noticed the bruises she was trying so hard to desperately hide with extremely heavy makeup.
I looked at Kieran and I know he noticed it too. But he just looked down and pretended he didn’t.
I tell her my order and let her leave. I wonder if it was a boyfriend or a husband who was possibly hurting her. Probably a boyfriend since I definitely didn’t see a ring on her finger.
She did look very young, way too young to be dealing with something that heavy.
As soon as she’s far enough away, I turn to Miller and Kieran. “Did you see the bruises on her face?”
I see Kieran get physically uncomfortable, but I don’t care.
“They’re probably not bruises,” Kieran says and pours himself some beer into his cup.
He’s been kind of a jerk to her; he loved seeing people struggle. He found it entertaining. Not in an evil or cruel way, just in a Kieran kind of way. He usually tipped very well after torturing them.
“I didn’t see any bruises,” Miller says. He turns to look at her, but she’s not looking in our direction.
“Our mom used to hide her bruises with makeup too.” My father used to beat the crap out of her almost every day while we were growing up. It went on until he killed her and then himself when I was eight.
“The makeup was never enough; we could always tell what she was trying to hide.”
“I can’t believe you still remember that,” Miller says. He was the oldest out of all of us. He was ten years older than me, so he was thirty-five.
“Can we be done talking about this?” Kieran asks.
He hated talking about the past. It was especially hard for him; he was in a group home when it all went down. He was lucky he wasn’t there to witness the buildup to it.
“That poor girl,” Miller says. “God knows what situation she’s in.”
Kieran pours himself another drink. I didn’t even see him finish the first one; he was a fast drinker. “It’s not our place to get involved. She’s a waitress. We don’t even know her.”
He chugs as much as he can. He needed to slow down; I was not carrying his ass out of here.
“Yeah, we don’t,” Miller agrees and it just irks me.
“We can help a stranger.”
Then Kieran says something that immediately pisses me off.
“You just want to get in her pants. I saw the way you were looking at her ass. You can still screw her without looking at her face.”
I roll my eyes and elbow him in the ribs. He makes a noise that sounds not human.
“You’re an ass,” I say to him.
“Are you surprised though?” Miller asks. I really wasn’t.
“She’s a person. I know it’s hard for you to see women as people, but they are,” I say to Kieran.
I think he was trying to get back at me for bringing up Mom. I don’t know what the hell his problem is.
He doesn’t even answer me; he just pours his third drink in less than ten minutes. He really wasn’t holding back.
I look at Miller and he just shrugs.
These two were no help.
This table had me running circles. It was mostly Kieran. I decided halfway through that he was a jerk.
I also just wanted to give the table to Hunter. I kept asking him, but he said that it would be worth it in the end if I stuck it out. Plus he didn’t want to deal with the shit he’d get if I got traded out.
I went to collect their receipt after they left, and cleaned up the dishes. I also wiped down the table.
I dropped off the dish cart in the kitchen and then gave Hunter the receipt so he could put it where it was supposed to go. I grabbed a glass of water and chugged it.
“Holy crap!” he says.
“What?” I ask, almost choking on my water from being startled so suddenly.
I didn’t even think to look at the tip when I collected it; I was just so glad that they had finally left the table. But there it was. One hundred dollars written out on the receipt for a fifty-dollar order.
Hunter puts the tip on the computer and then hands me two fifties from the register. “Great job,” he says. He was excited for me.
I hand him half my tip. “For you because you taught me all day and pushed me to get out of my comfort zone.”
“No, you earned that, you deserve it all.” He tries to hand it back to me, but I shake my head.
“But you helped me. Thank you.” He accepts the tip. “I have to go catch the bus, so I will see you tomorrow.” He nods.
“Have a good night, Willow.” I grab my bag and go. I am very excited to be working here.
