“Three works for me.” Adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, she asked Bill what she needed to wear.
“I’ll grab you a T-shirt. You can wear jeans and any shoes that don’t slip.”
When Alice returned at three, Bill showed her around the restaurant, kitchen, and back room used for storing dry goods and employee belongings.
“Here’s a clean apron.” He handed her a black bundle from behind a stack of Styrofoam cups. “Make sure you wash it between shifts. It doesn’t look good when there’s more food on the waitstaff than the trays.”
“Gotcha.” Alice tied it around her waist.
“I got you a nametag too.”
She thanked him and fastened it to her red Luigi’s T-shirt.
“While you’re working, food is free. I only ask that you eat it here in the back and that you remember the customers are your first priority.” The bell over the door rang, and Bill handed her a notepad and pen. “Looks like you’re on, Alice.”
She collected menus from the container hanging next to the counter and brought them to the booth. “Hi, folks. My name is Alice and I’ll be your server. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“I want soda. Mom, you promised I could have soda,” a boy, about ten years old, said, dragging on his mother’s sleeve.
“Calm down.” The woman ran her hand over her weary eyes before picking up the menu in front of her. “You can have one. When it’s gone, you get water. Do you hear me?”
The boy rolled his eyes and let go of her sleeve. “Ugh. Fine.”
The woman smiled at Alice. “Can we get one small Sprite and a large iced tea?”
“I want a large one! Moooom! You promised.”
“Fine. Make that two larges, please.”
“No problem. I’ll grab those and be right back for your order.” While Alice filled sodas at the drink station, her mark came through the back door off the kitchen. Alice gave her a warm smile—which the girl ignored.
After dropping drinks off at her table, Alice met the mark again on the way back to the kitchen. “Hey there! I’m Alice.”
“I’m Megan,” the girl said, tying her apron and stuffing a load of straws into the pocket.
“I just moved here from Wyoming.”
“That’s cool.” Megan stepped around Alice as she scoured the counter. “Did you take my pen?”
Alice frowned at the number of pens she had unknowingly acquired during her first hour at work. “I’m not sure…”
Megan retrieved the only purple one from Alice’s pocket and held it toward her. “This one’s mine.”
“Got it. How long have you worked here?”
“A year,” Megan sighed. “Do you mind getting that two-top that just walked in? I need to use the bathroom.”
Without waiting for an answer, Megan went into the ladies’ room, leaving Alice staring at the chipped paint on the door.
Sometime after five o’clock, Ethan burst through the door. “Sorry I’m late! Bill isn’t here, is he?”
“Calm down, Jimmy,” Alice said. “Bill left an hour ago, and the night manager, Tory, is too busy flirting with Will the cook to realize you’re late.”
“Whew.” Jimmy pretended to faint on her shoulder. “How’s it going?”
She waved her hand at the lone occupied table in the restaurant. “Kinda boring. Tory’s nice, but it doesn’t seem like she does much when she’s here. Will’s quiet except when Tory’s around.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “I’m not asking about work.”
“Megan hasn’t really talked to me,” she grumbled, glancing toward the kitchen door, from where the sounds of chopping and laughter emerged, “but she doesn’t seem dizzy or sick or anything.”
As if she had heard her name, Megan came out of the kitchen carrying a basket of fried pickles. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Jimmy. Alice swore the girl skipped to the table.
After dropping off the appetizer, Megan came over to them. “Hey there. I’m Megan.”
He grinned at her. “Jimmy.”
“I know,” she giggled, flicking her ponytail to the side. “We have second and fourth periods together.”
“That’s right,” Jimmy said, heading toward the back of the restaurant.
Megan stayed on his heels. “Tonight’s your first shift, isn’t it?”
Alice, feeling invisible, followed them into the back room.
“It sure is.” Jimmy put his coat on the hook behind the door and untangled an apron from the pile. “Have you worked here long?”
“I’ve been here for a year. Bill is my mom’s cousin’s husband, so he kind of had to hire me.”
Alice had been there for hours, and that was the most she’d heard Megan say all night.
“Megan! Order up!” Will called from the kitchen.
After Megan left, Jimmy turned to Alice. “She seems nice.”
Megan passed the door carrying a pizza. Jimmy missed the glare she flashed at Alice through the small window. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”
Jimmy tied his apron and collected a bus tub from the stainless steel table beside the sink. “Really?”
“Really.”
As the evening progressed, Alice waited on customers while Megan asked Jimmy an endless stream of questions and followed him and his bus tub from table to table. Jimmy, being well-versed in improv, was quick and creative with his responses.
Alice studied Megan, Megan studied Jimmy, and Jimmy studied the pizzas.
With twenty-five dollars from tips in her pocket, Alice’s first shift ended.
Jimmy said goodbye to Megan and Alice with high-fives, then jogged to his Jeep.
“Is that your car?” Alice asked, nodding toward the white Hyundai parked next to her silver Civic.
“Yeah.”
“It’s nice.”
Megan seemed to increase her pace. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” she called, stopping beneath the lone light post to fish her keys from her purse.
Megan hopped into her car and said, “See you tomorrow,” before slamming the door. She was out of the parking lot by the time Alice found her keys.
For some unknown reason, Megan did not like her. Which was crazy. Alice had been friendly, offered to help carry food, and tried to talk about Frostburg, but nothing had worked. Defeated, she unlocked her car and sank onto the seat. Jimmy’s headlights got brighter as he drove into the space next to her.
“What’s up, partner?” he said through the open window.
Partner? She wasn’t a partner. She was a hindrance. Alice threw her purse into the passenger seat; everything inside spilled onto the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she groaned. “You don’t need me.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” His thumb tapped the beat from the oldies station onto his car door. “But since you’re here, you may as well stop feeling sorry for yourself and do your job.”
“Ouch.” Couldn’t someone be nice to her today?
“You’re overthinking this. Don’t worry about recruiting or Nevergenes or injections—or rules. You’re making a new friend.” He removed his nametag and tossed it onto his dashboard. “That’s it.”