Page 19 of Outfoxed

Saturday, May 2, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

It took Tom Harlan four hours to apologize to every woman in the bar. For whatever reason, likely fear of losing his family jewels to my boss’s wrath, he had decided to apologize for his every last sin to every single one of us.

His confessions left me wishing I’d gotten in a few good hits. After the first confession of rape, the atmosphere had changed to something so dark and foreboding the storms had nothing on McCoy’s. I longed to take my stick and beat the bastard to death, but I restrained myself.

Throughout the entire confession, which belonged in a church rather than a bar, I served the other patrons, and for the first time since working as a waitress, McCoy’s ran out of the best Scotches.

The other men enjoyed ordering shots of the good stuff, looking Tom in the eyes, and taking a drink in warning of what the asshole’s future might hold. Men who normally had a single shot and left downed several, our percentage of drunks skyrocketed, and I worried there’d be a brawl before the end of my shift.

Everyone behaved, likely because of my boss’s clear warning what would happen to the family jewels of anyone stupid enough to cross him.

Most didn’t take threats of violence all too seriously in Tulsa, not with Mother Nature’s constant murder attempts and temper tantrums, but Brent McCoy had reminded everyone he had limits, and they’d been hit.

Lora found the courage to come down on her own, and I pulled her aside long enough to tell her she’d be coming with me to self-defense courses courtesy of our boss. She kept her eyes dry and her chin up, but I recognized her fear despite her bravado.

She’d survive, assuming Mother Nature didn’t take her.

Regretting I couldn’t get her a ticket out of town, I focused on doing my job. The tips flowed better than expected, and I looked forward to being able to eat something good for a change rather than scavenging for whatever I could afford. Good fortune rarely lasted long for me, but I’d make the most of the good fortune I could.

On days like today, I considered returning to the East, accepting the bounty on my head, and letting fate do what it wished with me.

A future was better than no future, and I couldn’t fight inevitability forever. At the end, we all lost.

At the end of my shift, I shucked out of my apron and checked my pockets for tips, as I never counted them until my work ended. I preferred when nobody witnessed my disappointment. Most nights, I counted myself lucky if I earned ten extra dollars for rent or dinner.

We’d been so busy I hadn’t gotten a chance to snack in the kitchen.

Tom Harlan’s shameful behavior and abuse had earned me three hundred dollars, enough to change my life for the better for an entire month. I checked the bills and change several times, wondering how I’d gotten so much. Most had been paid out in single dollar bills, big enough tips that the tipper meant serious business and appreciated my efforts. No one had given me anything below a quarter, a first in my entire time as a waitress.

Lora and the other waitresses coming off shift joined me, and their pockets told similar tales.

“What’s even going on here?” I asked, stuffing my pockets full of my hard-earned cash.

Lora, despite her bad run in the morning, grinned at me. “Not everybody’s bad, and they’re making up for the ones who are. We work hard, and they know it.”

I hoped she never lost her ability to see the good in people despite Tulsa’s tendency to break any glass at risk of being half full. I considered the money in my pocket and the young woman who could become something so much more than a street rat scuttling in the ruins of a dying city.

Our boss stepped into the kitchen, and he raised a brow at us checking our tips. “I see you ladies had a good day.”

“I’ll give Lora my whole good day if it gets her a ticket headed to the East,” I announced, retrieving my money from my pocket. “The storms are only getting worse, and she’s…”

“I’m just a baby compared to the rest of you,” Lora said. “You don’t have to do that, Jade. I don’t have anywhere to go out in the East.”

“You don’t have anywhere left to go here,” our boss said, his tone gentle. “If you want to accept Jade’s offer, I’ll take you to the train station myself. There’s one that leaves out in the morning assuming the tracks aren’t damaged. She’s right. Compared to the rest of us, you are just a baby, and you deserve to have a future. I won’t hold it against you for getting out. Hell, I bet most of us would like to get out at this point. It won’t be long until those who don’t get a ticket into Asylum won’t have anywhere left to go.”

The other women exchanged looks, and they held out their tips, too. Frankie, the oldest of the waitresses and harsher than any storm Mother Nature could fling, said, “We’ll get more tips tomorrow, I’m sure. This’ll be enough to get you started.”

“At least keep some of it,” Lora begged. “Something. You earned that.”

“She’ll need four hundred for a good ticket and a hotel for a few days, and I can give her the name of a contact out in the East,” Brent said. “Five hundred will see her into the East long enough to get some work. She’ll have her paycheck, too, which I’ll cash out for her on the way to the train station.”

“I got three hundred in tips,” I said.

All together, we’d gathered over two thousand dollars. Upon silent agreement, we gave Lora a thousand and split the rest evenly. The hundred dollars would still change my month for the better, and I’d walk away happy one of us would get out of the East alive.