The Waitress and the Wolf (Book 1 of The Guardian series)

Chapter 7. Cold Shoulders

"How many others did you say would be joining you?" I asked. 

"Just one."

"Can I get anything started for you?"  I asked him. He studied the menu for a second. "A basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake. Extra whip-cream."

I nodded, though it seemed funny that's what he was going to order. 

I turned my back, aware of the fact his eyes seemed to be on me the whole time. I walked into the back, feeling like I was safer back here. Though he didn't scream murderer or killer like Diego and his partner in crime, something made him stand out like a sore thumb in a crowd. I began to gather that he somewhat reminded me of Demetri.

"You gonna get that, or let it get cold?" Marge suddenly asked. I shook myself out of my trance and turned to take the trey of fries from her. She blinked her plastered green eyeshadowed eyes at me and popped her gum.

"My bad,"  I murmured. 

"It's alright, I hear you had quite a bit of fun last night at Joes," She scoffed, her voice filled with little amusement. I stared at her in puzzlement, but none-the-less, took the fries and left the kitchen. I walked out with the basket of fried potatoes in my palm and set them on the table. 

He had put on some reading glasses and had two papers he seemed to be filling out. He looked like your average workaholic businessman, but why did it feel like he was so much more?

"The milkshake will be out soon," I said lightly. He looked up at me and nodded before returning to his work. I left the table and returned to my safe haven in the kitchen. I frowned when I realized that Marge was giving me the cold shoulder. Was it because she had found out I'd been with Demetri lately? In a sense, it wasn't exactly my fault seeing as each time he appeared from out of nowhere, but I suppose going to dinner with him was a bit of a step back. 

As I had taken the milkshake back to the man's table, I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt as I remembered that Marge had technically warned me to stay away from Demetri, along with Moira's odd warning.

I cleaned another table next to Moira and prepped it for any incoming customers. We each looked towards the door as a young girl around my age maybe younger walked in. Her long wavy blonde hair had been put into a loose side braid as mass amounts of fly-aways  cascaded down her cheeks in a cute manner. 

She had cherub cheeks and a small nose with big eyes. She reeked of teenage innocence.

"Brooke, I'm glad you made it," The man said, a smile breaking his serious facade. I realized she must have been his daughter or something though the only resemblance had been the darkness of their eyes. I studied them from afar, wiping the table in oblivion.

She sat down, swinging her pink studded purse onto the red leather seats of the booth. 

"Hey Daddy," she said with a grin. I smiled at their relationship, even if it seemed very cliche. 

"How are you doing? How's school? I want to know more about how you've been." He took off his glasses, and shoved them to the side along with his paperwork.

"It's really great actually. Classes are challenging but it makes it more exciting. The new school isn't too bad really. Alan likes it," She replied.  At the mention of 'Alan', the dad's face dropped into a painful smile.

"How is he?" He asked. Brooke glanced down at her milkshake, which she hadn't even made a dent in. 

"He's getting by."

"I'm glad to hear that. Maybe next time he can visit too." He took a bite of a fry though he didn't seem very hungry. 

"Maybe."