Hush Baby, Hush

The Man With The Crucifix

I blinked. Blinked again. And then.

I laughed.

Loud. Raucous and indecently all over the place. I held my ribs and pointed at the terrified look on Travis face and the pure rage rolling off of my friends.

Is it bad that I wanted to say “Bet you don’t want a black girl now?”

Now that was my friends in their gutta form. They were ready to cut and they did. Very well.

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“Crystal!”

My neck craned to the right as the boss mans son Andrew spoke through the small space between the Ala cart and the counter in the kitchen. Black haired, young and the spitting image of his father the twenty or so Andrew ushered me on.

“Yes sir?” I asked stepping away from the center of the kitchen where the crew churned up the specials and where Nadia pretended to tie her shoe as she texted her latest beux. Or maybe just one of the many she already had. He rounded the corner, “Booth Two asked specifically for you.”

Booth Two?

“But you put me on dish-washing duty,” I countered.

It really didn’t make sense though, like who the hell says dish washing duty? It was plain to see that the restaurant business wasn’t in the making for young Andrew and I prayed that God that his Dad would come back soon from his trip and save us all. Without him we were a bumbling mass of confusion.

“Never mind that, Booth two and put some pep in your step.”

And he’s gay. Has to be, there’s no hope for grandchildren.

“Alright,” I nodded and felt for the pad of paper  and pen in my front apron pockets as I pushed through the swinging door with the other hand. I felt the bulk of both.

Now don’t get me wrong, I had a pretty good idea of who it was but I didn’t want to jinx myself. It’s just not normal for someone to ask for you, it’s just not and the fact that I’d seen ole Hazel Eyes again made me wonder.

So it wasn’t a surprise as I fixed my lips with that same plastic smile and stepped up to the booth right underneath the window across from table four that a man or rather a boy scribbled furiously under a veil of black curls.

This guy is nuts.

Bonkers.

That shit cray…aint it Jay?

“What can I get for you sir?” I turned on my fake peppy voice and held the small pad of paper and tablet up like I’d never ever seen him.

Slowly he raised his head and pushed back a layer of curls that had draped across the front of his face like a curtain. I admit it, I stumbled, I became lost in his eyes and then lost in his skin and boy did I really lose myself in his curls. He was obviously Hispanic but he was a bit browner and…what else?

He smiled.

I waited.

He nodded and crossed his arms as his smile became a grin and he leaned forward like an idiot. As if him and I shared some secret that I was supposed to know right off the  bat from his smile.

“Um,” my smile became a blush, I bit my lip and tried to fight back, “can I uh, Can I get you some er water? Or wine maybe…”A chuckle shook his body but I remained strong, “or maybe a soft drink….or beverage?”

And he just laughed. His crucifix moved along with him and the fading light from outside cast one more gleam across his jewelery.

Why is he laughing at me?

A tear pricked at my eye, I swear I couldn’t help it. His unexplained laughter brought up some really painful memories. Playground memories, me wobbling around and being pushed over for being the fattest girl in the fourth grade.

And when I get angry what happens?

“Sir? Maybe you’d rather if someone else served you?” I spoke through gritted teeth.

There was always Nadia. Bitch.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he bit back another chuckle and smiled broadly, “You’re fine.”

“Then what do you want?” I huffed and focused on the pad of paper in my hand.

“Umm…” My eyes drifted back to him, his large fingers tapped away against the words on his notebook, his eyes focused on something well beyond my view, over my head even. I followed his gaze and when I saw nothing but a painting I turned back.

“Fettuccini…I guess,” he threw his hands up and sighed. Tired maybe?

Ok, I’ve done this long enough.

“Look, I’m not supposed to do this but you would be better off picking something else. The fettuccine is overpriced. Just a tip,” I added while looking over his head. If I didn’t interest him then he didn’t interest me. To add to the affect I yawned. Loudly.

“I could,” the playful tinge of his words made my eyes slide back over to him, instantly they locked with his and I shivered. He bit his lip  and then smirked, “You have a bad habit of biting your lip…but anyway. Like I was saying, I could order something else if I had a menu.”

A menu?

What the? But I have one right ….

I don’t.

I was empty handed, once again I’d embarrassed myself in front of him. And what did he do?

He laughed. Again.

“Chill out, I didn’t plan on staying anyway. I just came by to say hey.”

A bit jilted by embarrassing myself once again I spoke before I’d thought through my words, “This is my job you know? I get paid to waitress and I’ve spent the whole of five freaking minutes not doing my job.” I was pissed, I was angry, I seethed, “Why are you here?”

“I told you,” he slid out of the booth slowly, his black V-neck t rippled with him and his curls swung around his face. He slid back the front curls and stood up at his full length. I stepped back, he was obviously much taller than me, “I came to say hey.”

I wasn’t playing about being pissed. He was playing with my job, my fucking JOB. The one that currently paid my cell phone bills, the one that would push me one step forward into college. I had money to spend and money to save and he’d wasted five minutes. As sweet as it was, or whatever it was, it was a threat. If I got caught lolly-gagging with him on the clock then I could have been wrote up. And I reacted like I felt.

“Hi.” I tossed at him and walked away.