Falter (4 page)

As I turned back to face the street, an uneven brick tripped me, knocking me off balance. I stumbled, almost falling off the step. My hands shot out, reaching to brace myself as an arm wrapped tightly around my waist and stood me upright.
 

“Oh, excuse me,” I cried out, stunned.
 

I clutched onto the collar of a man’s coat. My pulse raced, and words escaped me. I stared up into the curious eyes of my savior. They were a shade of blue-green that I’d never seen before, and so clear I could see my reflection in them. I suddenly felt very exposed, like he was diving into the depths of my soul, and he knew my deepest secrets. However, something kept me at a distance when I tried to explore his.

As I stared at him, dumbfounded and embarrassed, the heavy beat of his heart pounded against my hand. My insides tightened with excitement.

The man’s full lips opened, a visible breath floating out with his words. “No problem. Are you ok?”
 

His calm tone settled me, but I couldn’t unclench my hands from his coat. I didn’t want to release him. I feared I would never see him again, that he’d disappear into the busy city. And, as I stared helplessly at him, I entertained the idea of him experiencing the same interest in me that I was feeling for him. His intense expression of concern and curiosity disappeared, and he let go of my arms.

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “Yes. Thanks,” I answered, struggling to find something to say that would keep him there. When nothing came to mind, I gathered my wits enough to pry my fingers—and eyes—from the stranger, then straightened my clothes. He watched me shift my shirt back into place and fiddle with some loose strands of hair before turning to open the crimson door. He stepped aside politely, allowing someone to exit the café.

George shuffled out past my savior, his brow furrowed. “What are you doin’, girl? Didn’t you see me wavin’ at ya?” he groaned.
 

The man nodded a goodbye to me and stepped into the café.

“No. Sorry, I was distracted.” My eyes wandered after the man through the clouded window while I spoke. “What did you find out?” I lost sight of the stranger’s murky form as he disappeared toward the back of the building. I reluctantly switched my focus to George.

“The manager has two openings. I told him about our situation, and that we’re lookin’ for the chance to make an honest livin’. Seems real nice. He’s givin’ us a trial period.”

“What are the trial positions?” I questioned.

“I have the dishwasher’s spot, and you’ll get the hostess’s job. Sound good?”
 

“Sounds great! When do we start?” I was elated. Even the smallest opportunity offered the possibility of a normal life.

“Well, you have to get interviewed too. But if all is good, we’ll start today.”
 

My gaze flickered back to the window, searching again for the man that saved me. He wasn’t anywhere in sight.
 

“Let’s go then.” I reached for the cold brass of the door handle and pulled it open, moving to the side for a leaving customer. A warm gush of air tickled my face as I walked into the café.
 

George squeezed his round body by me and strolled toward a man in a black t-shirt and dark-washed jeans. I followed him, flashing an inviting smile to appear more personable. Presentation is everything, and when you don’t have much to work with, flirting helps too.
 

The man wiped his wet hands on the white towel looped through his belt, glancing at George and then pinning his eyes on me. “You’re right, she is pretty.”
 

Heat surfaced in my cheeks, and I shot George a quick look of aggravation.
 

The dark-haired guy was handsome in a subtle way. He was clearly good looking, but not the overly sexy type with a picture-perfect face. His sharp features gave him a rugged edge that would command any woman’s regard.
 

The man offered a hand for me to shake, his lips curling into a gentle smile when I accepted it. “Hey, how are ya?” His smooth, fluid movements and polite manner hinted at the traditional, old-fashioned man he seemed to pride himself in portraying. His burly appearance paired with an obvious soft side made him very seductive.

“Good, thank you.”

“Do you have any experience?” he asked, keeping his eyes glued to mine.
 

“I have experience as a waitress from a few jobs I’ve had in the past.”
 

“Well, fortunately, hostessing isn’t rocket science and doesn’t require much know how.” He shrugged. “If anything, you’ll probably get bored with the redundancy of it.”
 

“Sir, I can handle bored as long as it gets me a job,” I responded confidently.

His lips tightened into a smirk. Shallow crow’s feet surrounded his olive-green eyes, implying he was approximately thirty years old.
 

The guy looked me over once more, calculating his decision to hire us. “Y’all got the jobs, but like I told the George here, it’s a trial period. I’ll be fair, but if I catch you letting others in or stealing from me, that’s it. The pay isn’t much, but I’ll compensate by allowing ya’ll to sleep in the employee break room at night. There’s a couch and a love seat in there. We’ve got a full bathroom in the back too.” His eyes drifted between George and me. “Somehow, I don’t think y’all will be as big a problem as the last people I tried to help.”
 

I shook my head and smiled graciously.
 

“By the way, call me Gavyn, not sir,” he insisted with a sweet wink. “Follow me. I’ll show you around and get ya some clean clothes and aprons.”
 

We trailed Gavyn, nodding and muttering replies of acknowledgment at the appropriate times throughout the tour.

The café was spacious and well laid out. Medium-sized bistro tables and chairs, currently seating happy diners, furnished the front of the cafe. A maple, hand-carved bar divided the busy eaters from the servers and prep area.
 

Two cooks bobbed back and forth between the large stoves and ovens hidden away in the kitchen. The small ting of a bell chimed into the noise often.
 

“Order up!” one of the cooks yelled, sliding a steaming order of soup and a sandwich onto the counter at the base of a huge pass-through window.
 

The servers behind the bar worked quickly, garnishing the steaming plates with fresh orange slices. Keen eyes investigated the meals as they arranged them on carrying trays, and on occasion, a curse word erupted from a server’s mouth when they discovered an order came out wrong. None of the customers seemed to notice, though.

A dim hallway between the kitchen and the guest restrooms led to the small lounge at the back of the restaurant. This would act as our make-shift bedroom. I bypassed entering the room and strolled directly across the corridor into the employee bathroom. I ogled the amenities with excitement, daydreaming about the time I would spend in there relaxing after a long day at work. There was a large clawfoot bathtub, vintage shower head the size of a dinner plate, and a not-so-girl-friendly vanity. After promising the bathroom I would return soon, I stepped back out into the hall.

As we approached the end of the corridor, we stopped. I noticed a narrow stairwell that led upwards and looked at Gavyn curiously.

“That’s my home sweet home,” he informed us, nudging his chin towards the stairs. “Have a seat in the break room if you want. I’ll get ya some blankets and stuff.” He jerked his thumb behind him in the direction of the lounge before disappearing into the dark stairway.

George and I stood in the hall, soaking up the place’s character. Paintings and signs from a different era, maybe the 1950’s, hung in random spots all over the walls. It was the kind of art you found in an old five and dime store. My eyes wandered over the aged prints, studying the depictions of full-figured women beautifully splayed atop vintage cars and bizarre advertisements using fat babies and winged pigs. The old building held a sense of history with a soda shop appeal; yet, it took advantage of more modern touches like the high-tech cooking equipment and a kick-ass bar.

I put my hands on my hips and pivoted around, taking it all in while we waited
.
 

I could get used to this.
 

I inhaled the sugary air drifting around me from the abundance of shakes and cherries. Laughter rumbled over the background noise from a sports game down the hall. Dishes clanked as the waitresses piled them high on serving trays.
 

I was already falling in love with this place.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs a few feet from us. Gavyn appeared again with a smile, a mountain of blankets, and clothes draped over his arms. “These were all I could find. I kept some abandoned clothes from previous employees. Hope they fit.”
 

George unloaded the pile off Gavyn’s hands and carried it to the couch inside the lounge. “Thank you,” the old man said with great appreciation in his eyes.
 

Gavyn and I followed George in and watched him sift through the mound, searching for something better than what we had. He chuckled and held up a clean pair of thick, white socks in front of him. His joyful eyes darted to me, knowing I would understand his excitement.
 

“Go ahead and change. Meet me out front afterwards.” Gavyn winked at me and left the room.

I smiled at George’s contentment and chose a plain, black dress from the layers of fabric. I held it up against me, contemplating its fit.
 
The dress seemed to be my size.
 

As I scanned over the remaining mountain of clothes, shiny, black Mary Jane’s peeked out from underneath it. I snatched them up and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” I assured George.
 

I walked to the bathroom across the hall, the aged hardwoods creaking under my feet. I softly kicked the door shut behind me and yanked my shirt and pants off. My old clothes hit the floor with a thump.

My skin screamed with elation while I studied the quality of the new outfit. I slid the dress over my head and stared down at the long, thin strips awkwardly hanging at my sides. I struggled with the structure of the dress, stretching the ties out in front of me and crossing them over my waist in a wrinkled mess. I’d seen these dresses on women before but never needed to figure out how the “wrap” concept worked. I feared not getting it tied just right, so I fixed the sashes in a clumsy double knot. The last thing I needed was a horribly revealing clothing malfunction on my first day.

The black material draped my body a little loosely, but it would work for now. The long sleeves stopped midway down my forearms and would be out of the way while I worked. I peered down at the hemline, satisfied that it landed just below my knees. I wasn’t used to wearing dresses, and this one made me a little self-conscious. My feet slid effortlessly into the Mary Jane’s. They fit like a glove.
 

I examined myself in the mirror, straightening stray hairs and retying my blue bow. What a difference a new outfit made!

When I stepped into the hallway, George was waiting impatiently.
 

His expression softened as his eyes trailed over me in the dress. “Fits you well, girl,” he said before rushing into the bathroom for his turn to change.
 

I put on my best smile and started down the corridor. A friendly-looking woman met me at the end of the hallway. She was a few years older than me and extraordinarily pretty.
 

“My name is Layla. Gavyn said you need help getting acquainted with our routine.” Her charming smile hooked me right away.

Confidence radiated from her graceful movements as Layla grabbed my arm and playfully dragged me behind the bar. Servers pushed by us, one after another, hoisting steaming plates and colorful drinks over our heads. I seemed to be in the way everywhere, but they swerved around me like I wasn’t there. I anxiously waited for someone to scold me. When no one did, I relaxed and let the feeling of home settle in my heart.

“Nevaeh, is it?” Layla picked up dishes off the bar and organized them on an empty tray next to her. “I’ve been here awhile, so follow me and you won’t go wrong. We’re very laid back here, kinda like family.” She plucked a small piece of paper clipped to the order wheel in the pass-through window and set it on the tray.

“Where do I start?” I asked, ready to find my place in the cafe.
 

“Gavyn wants me to show you everything so he can float you as a waitress too. There’s more work if you’re flexible.” She held her index finger up, pointing at the sign above. “The basics first. Learn the menu, and how to prep the drinks and food.”
 

I tilted my head back to study the large billboards nailed high on the wall over the bar area. Multicolored chalk scribbled all over the large blackboards, listing an impressive array of refreshments and entrees. It was quite an extensive menu for such a small cafe. I rambled off a few of the items in my mind: Shirley Temple, Root Beer Float, American BLT, and Eggs Bennie on Wheat. It would take some time to learn everything.
 

As I read the lines of food and drinks, someone bumped into me, knocking me off balance.