Betting with the Bride

Chapter One

With rushed movements I tie my black apron around my petite waist and throw my auburn hair up into a messy pony tail. Before running out into the crowded restaurant, I snatch my pad of paper and ballpoint pen.

"Glorious rush hour," Helga sarcastically calls after me.

"Oh the joy," I reply over my shoulder.

Helga lets out a hearty chuckle as I approach my first costumer. Sitting on one of the several red stools is a man clad in a pressed suit. All though his attire is proper and perfect, his hair is tousled, and there is stubble on his chin, giving him a rough look. I mentally note how attractive he is, but I scold myself. He glances up at me, and expectantly stares at me with his lips set in a thin line.

"How may I serve you?" I ask politely.

"I'll have a cup of black coffee," he orders, barely looking up.

"Yes sir," I respond, "Anything else?"

He lightly shakes his head before I disappear into the back. I quickly make his cup and bring it back to the awaiting customer. When I set it down in front of him, he doesn't even bother to look up. Fighting the urge to say a snarky comment, I smile, and then stride to my next customer.

As I return from giving a blonde a sweetened cup of ice tea, I am met with a hard chest, causing my body to plummet backwards towards the cold tile. I let out a small yelp, expecting to feel hard flooring under me, but all I feel is strong arms. Instinctively, my delicate arms reach up, and cling to someone's neck. Shocked, my eyes trail up my savior's body to find the attractive, suit wearing, customer holding my frame up with his arms. I awkwardly search for something to say as I stare into his dark gray eyes, awestruck.

"You probably want up now," his silk like voice fills the heavy silence between us.

I slowly nod, still spellbound, "Thank you."

"The pleasures mine," he replies with suave before setting me back on my feet.

I quickly remove my arms from the strangling grip around his neck and straighten my now wrinkled apron. "Sorry about that," I apologize.

"It's fine, but I should get going," he excuses himself like a gentleman.

I don't say anything more, I just nod, and then continue to wipe down cluttered tables and wait customers... my typical routine.

"Helga, I'm leaving. My shift at the Clarion starts in an hour," I call out to my mother like coworker.

Disapprovingly, the stout woman shakes her head while exiting the kitchen. "You are going to overwork yourself, Ivory. Take a break, live while you're young," she encourages.

"I'm living. I just have to support myself, and maintaining two jobs is how I do that," I defend myself.

A sad smile forms on her aged features. "Don't push yourself too hard," Helga advises.

"I won't," I promise before leaving the small restaurant with a small wave.

I wrap my coat tighter around my body when a blast of cold air smacks me in the face, warning me of the upcoming winter. Not wanting to be late, I hurry down the sidewalk, trying to flag a taxi. After what seems like the hundredth try, a yellow cab finally pulls to the curb. I hop into the back, and tell the driver my address. The ride lasts approximately ten minutes, but soon I am back into the chilly weather. I quickly climb the flight of stairs to my apartment and search in my bag for my small key.

My apartment contains a small kitchen, a bathroom, a main room, my bedroom, a storage room, and my mother's bedroom. It's not that big, but it keeps me safe and off the streets. After hastily changing and snatching a quick snack, I am back out the door.