Astoria: Part One

Heather: Chapter Eleven

Heather was working a ten hour shift at "The Lucky Tugboat," a little diner right on the bay.
Their customers mostly consisted of truckers, drifters, fishermen, policemen and old men that had been coming there since before she was born. But today was especially rough.
For some reason or another, the customers were low on patience, feeling rude and didn't want to tip well, and Heather, for her own part, was feeling out of it.
It was Sunday, for one, a day she usually had off. For another she was worried about this 'date' on Tuesday.
Heather had decided that, if Jordan thought it was a date, that it would be. She didn't want to hurt her, and thought it would be easiest to have a good time, even if that meant holding hands or a peck on the cheek, but no more, and she could tell Jordan that she thought they would be better as friends and all would be well.
Heather had decided that she was gonna get all dolled up, wear a cute dress, and bring flowers.
At least she wouldn't have to deal with a boy trying to get in her pants.

She was just gonna have fun.

But right now, at work, she was not having any fun.

Heather had been yelled at, been left no tip, had to take food back over and over and two particular 'gentlemen' kept swatting her butt when she passed by.
She didn't want to cause any uproar, and there had been guys at school who had done worse, and she hoped, just maybe, they would tip decent.

She was wrong.

The diner was closed now however and she was cleaning the dining area, before her step-brother picked her up and they went home.

Mary O'Neill, Heather's boss was a sweet lady who hated to ask her to not only cover someone elses shift on her day off, but to work a ten-hour shift. Usually Heather wouldn't mind too much, but she wasn't feeling herself, and the tips were virtually non-existent compared to most days.

Heather saw Drake's Ford Taurus pull up out front.

"Miss Mary?" Heather called from the front.
"Yes, darlin'?" She called back.
"I've finished the front and my ride is here, may I leave a few minutes early?" she asked hopefully.

Mary came out from the back, smiling, wiping off her hands with a dish-towel.

"Sure, Heather," she said with a wink, "but don't clock out, I'll clock you out at your normal time."
"Oh, you don't have to do that, Mary." Heather stated.
"After what you dealt with today," Mary said, her voice falling a little, "I feel like I owe you."
"Well, alright," Heather agreed looking at her watch, which showed 9:37pm, "but not a minute more!"

Mary laughed.

"Yes, ma'am," she saluted.

Heather smiled, wrinkling her nose, and waved goodbye.

Heather went out the back door and around the side of the building to the front, getting soaked from head to toe in rain water. She opened the passenger seat door and entered the vehicle.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm wet..."

Drake stared at her for a second or two.

"Uh," he looked away nervously, "no problem, Em."
"Ugh," Heather sighed as he drove off, "not you too, Drake."
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, it's okay I suppose," she moved the rear-view mirror to try and fix her soaked hair, "Everyone at home is calling me 'Em', so I'm sure it's hard not to."
"I'll try not to, Heather."
"Well, now 'Heather' almost sounds weird, itself," she laughed.

Drake kept stealing glances at her.

"Well," he began, "how was work?"
"I think that was the worst shift I've ever had, bro." She rested her head against his arm. He continued to steal glances.

"Why don't we do something that will cheer you up?" He offered.
"What did you have in mind?"
"We could go to that bowling alley, or the sports bar nextdoor to it?"
"I don't know..." she lifted her head.
"I'm buying."
"Well..."
"I'll let you share my beer." He tempted.
"Let's start with the bar, and see where it goes," she said smiling, wrinkling her nose.
"Cool," he smiled back.
"And you won't tell mom or dad," she asked, "cause I know about that thing..."
"Yeah, yeah," he said laughing.

He parked in front and they went in together.
The sign said 'seat yourselves,' and Heather started towards a table, but Drake insisted on a booth.
They ordered their drinks respectively, water and a Red's Apple Ale.

"I'm gonna go to the restroom real quick," Heather told him.
"Uh," he got up out of the booth, "you should wait for the drinks first."
"What?" She asked, confused, "why?"
"It's bad manners," he seemed to decide.
"Okay..." Heather gave him a quizical look and sat down.
They ordered their food, an appetizer of fried mushrooms, for Heather, a salad, and for Drake the chicken breast, which he seemed to get red in the face saying.
Their drinks came and Heather stood up to go to the bathroom.

"Uh, hey, Em," Drake started, "I mean, Heather, theres something you should know."
"What's up?" She asked, looking concerned.
"Your shirt is white, yeah?" He continued.
"Yes?" She said slowly, not understanding where this was going.
"You were walking through the rain, and you don't have a bra on..." he finished, unzipping and taking off his hoodie.
"How do you know I don't have a...bra...on..." at that moment she realised what he was getting at.

She took his hoodie, and ran to the bathroom.

As she looked into the mirror, her fears were confirmed.
Staring back at her, through her white button-up shirt, were two light pink round buds that were more than plainly visible.
Heather saw the red spread across her face.
She took the shirt off and began to wring it out in the sink, then he heard a toilet flush, and then saw urinals in the mirror.
She was topless in the men's room.
She as quickly as possible put the hoodie on and pulled the hood up, but didn't have time to zip it up, leaving a valley about four inches wide from her collarbone down to her navel.
The man came from a urinal to the row of sinks and washed his hands. After drying them, he walked out, not noticing the poorly clothed girl right next to him.
Heather quickly zipped up her hoodie and left the bathroom, forgetting the shirt she left in the sink.

Heather returned to the table blushing and sat down quietly.
The appetizer had arrived.

"How long did you know before you told me?" She inquired, calmly.
"About two minutes," Drake said sheepishly, "I didn't mean to look."
"So, why did you wait to tell me?"
"I felt awkward, and was going to let you see it when you went to the bathroom, but I knew you'd know that I had seen," he continued on, "so I had to tell you before you went. I'm sorry."

She took a fried mushroom on a fork and dipped it in the ranch that came with it.

"I might forgive you...on one condition," she then ate the mushroom.