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She clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her sob before yanking open the door. She ran outside, and I slammed the door shut before pounding my fist against it.
“Fuck!”
CHAPTER 34
Riley
I fidgeted in my chair before forcing myself to be still. I studied the woman reading through my resume, and although I told myself to keep my mouth shut, I couldn’t resist speaking.
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve waitressed, but I’m confident in my abilities. I’ve often thought of waitressing like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget.” I sounded overly cheery and the teeniest bit desperate, and I reined it in as the woman glanced at me.
Behind her, the red neon sign spelling out “Lobster Shack” in cursive blinked and buzzed. The sign took up half the wood panelled wall and projected a soft red glow over our booth, the two booths behind me, and the hostess area.
She waved off my statement. “Yes, it’ll be fine. I’m not worried about that.”
She returned to reading my resume as I looked around. It was Sunday morning, and the Lobster Shack didn’t open for business until eleven, which meant the place was quiet. A server stood near one of the empty tables, rearranging the silverware, and I studied the trucker-style cap she wore with her white shirt and black pants. The front of the hat had the restaurant's name in the same cursive font as the neon sign, but it was the giant stuffed plush lobster fixed firmly to the top of the hat that I couldn’t stop looking at. It seemed hideously cheerful, its bright red claws bouncing and flopping with every step the server took and the bright red wire that was its antenna waving in the air.
I pictured myself wearing that hat as I carried steaming trays of lobsters every night and didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my chest, and I swallowed it down viciously.
Keep it the fuck together, Riley!
Yes, I definitely needed to keep it the fuck together. I knew how lucky I was to get this interview. I’d applied yesterday morning to every waitress job I could find, and this was the first one to reply. When they’d asked if I could come in today for an interview, I had hurriedly agreed.
“What I am worried about,” the manager looked up from my resume, “is you burning out. You work full-time during the day. We’re looking for someone Tuesday to Friday, six pm to midnight, and weekend shifts. That’s a lot for a person.”
“I have lots of energy,” I said. “My day job is not as physically taxing, so I assure you it won’t be a problem.”
She was still giving me a skeptical look, and I knew she wouldn’t hire me.
I took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you. My mom has cancer and needs the extra money for her treatment. I promise you I will not quit. I need this job. Please give me a chance.”
She set my resume on the table. “Screw it. You’re hired.”
I blinked at her, not sure I heard her correctly. “I am?”
“Yes.” The smile on her face faded. “My father had cancer. I remember very well the stress of mounting medical bills.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate this and promise I will be an excellent server.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said. “Your first training shift starts Tuesday at six. I’ll start the hiring paperwork and email it to you for signing.”
She slid out of the booth, and I followed her, shaking her hand when she held it out. “Thank you, Ms. Andrews.”
“Call me Shannon. We’ll see you Tuesday.”
I left the restaurant and climbed into Marvin, starting him up and turning the heat on high. I grabbed my phone from my purse and grimaced when I saw the missed texts from my father. Despite my desire to curl into a ball and shut out the entire world, I’d forced myself to call Dad on Saturday. He’d been so upset when he found out I’d lost my second job and couldn’t send extra money.
I’d assured him I would find something else and send money soon, but, for once, the usual guilt hadn’t coursed through me. All my broken, aching heart could focus on was how badly I’d hurt Deacon.
My hand shaking, I rubbed my forehead. I would give anything to go back and change what had happened. I didn’t know what made me feel worse - how badly I’d hurt Deacon or not even realizing how much it would hurt him.
For about the thousandth time since Friday night, the tears started. I swiped them away with a tissue. I’d hurt the man I loved, and I had no way to fix it. Even worse, I would have to spend the next few weeks seeing him every day, knowing he hated me, knowing that I’d made him feel so fucking terrible.
The tears flowed hard, and my mascara left dark streaks on my cheeks. I wiped my face clean and forced thoughts of Deacon out of my head. My mom. I had to concentrate on her right now. My dad had mentioned again taking money from my 401k, and I’d said I would look into it, but I didn’t want to do that.
I knew it made me selfish, but working six days a week at the restaurant would pay me roughly what my two agency appointments paid, which would have to be enough for my parents. I couldn’t keep giving and giving without getting anything in return.
Whoa. Where did that come from? New and improved Riley is also a selfish cow, is that it?
