Weeks of work had successfully settled her into the Windows on the World environment. Nothing was new or unknown anymore. In fact, Phoebe had fallen into quite a bit of a routine. She already had some frequent customers to her name, and the staff was fairly friendly.
About to start high school again, this would be her last morning/noon shift for the time being. Phoebe would also begin doing some hours at Wild Blue, the smaller, more intimate restaurant where the locals preferred to dine. While the tourists liked the busy and noisy openness of Windows on the World.
There had been no more over-the-top tips, but they at least sometimes reached thirty percent. Speaking of which, Mr. Israeli Salad had not come back since last time. Phoebe feared-for her sake-that he'd stopped being a customer because she might have offended him with her flashy attitude. Or maybe she was just overthinking as usual.
While Phoebe cleaned the bar, Georgia wiped the wine glasses.
"Are you starting college on Monday?" Phoebe thought to ask her.
"Yep," she answered with no wavering confidence. "When are you starting school?"
"Monday as well." Phoebe had no control over the gritting of her teeth. "I wonder how they'll receive me."
"You'll be fine. It's a good school in a good area."
Although she already knew Stuyvesant was a high-end school, Georgia's reassurance made Phoebe feel more confident. All she dreaded was for drama and triviality to take over her last year of high school.
"Oh, look. There's your exclusive." Georgia's sight was unbeatable-she could find anything and anyone in the restaurant in a matter of seconds. Nothing or no one escaped her.
And, sure enough, there he was. Her so-called exclusive. He'd come back.
The blond stooge, this time waring a silver suit, was sitting at the same table as the other day. Alone, at least for a while, again.
"Go on!" Georgia urged her forward.
"Eugh!" Phoebe complained. "Do I have to?"
"It's literally your job." Georgia gestured condescendingly.
"Right..." Phoebe reluctantly agreed.
The man had already seen her coming after setting aside the menu, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. His eyebrows laid low upon his eyes as he observed her slow approach. Phoebe was weary of that smile in his face. Why was it there in the first place? He was surely going to taunt the demons out of her.
"Welcome to-" She began saying in a bored tone.
He interrupted her. "I still feel welcomed since the other day, believe me."
I don't.
Phoebe was imagining lasers shooting out of her eyes right at him. There was no way that that could make him feel welcomed.
"What salad will you be having today, sir?" She teased insolently.
"She can joke!" He clasped his hands together feeling satisfactory. "Although the salad last time was quite the treat, I think I'll have something different this time, if you don't mind." Phoebe shrugged in response, she didn't care at all. However, that seamless compliment hadn't gone over her head. "String beans sauté, scallopine of veal with wild mushrooms, and a glass of Sauvignon. Silver Oak."
He must have been in a good mood. The last time, it gave Phoebe the impression that he was either a picky eater or had a delicate stomach.
She took the menu from the table and set out to place the order at the kitchen without another word, thankful that she wasn't the one who had to cook his meal that day.
Phoebe returned to him right after it was done. When she set down all his food before him, he corrected angles of the cutlery as soon as she placed them, which had only been slightly perpendicular.
Phoebe made a face, and then proceeded to attend to other tables. However, a woman stepped right in front of her path.
"Hey, Cindy! It's me, Elena!"
Phoebe couldn't help but giggle. "It's Phoebe, actually. Phoebe Bradley."
"Yeah, figured it couldn't be Brad Pitt. That would've been awesome though." Elena clicked her fingers. Phoebe decided that Elena was the only fun corporate she'd ever known and would ever come to know. She and Dana would totally get along. "Anyhoots, I really wanted to come see how you were getting on but it's been pretty hectic at the office and I couldn't get round to doing it until now."
"You definitely have more pressing matters than checking up on a complete stranger, so no worries." In the distance, Mr. Israeli Salad waved for her attention. "Why don't you find a seat? I'll be with you in a minute," Phoebe said before going over to him.
"Is everything okay?"
"May I have some bread?" As soon as he asked, she turned around to go and get it, but he spoke again. "Oh, and some salt? And pepper?" Before she could hurry away, the man made yet another request. "More napkins would be useful as well."
Impatiently, without biting her tongue, Phoebe spoke.
"Next time you come alone, you might want to consider sitting at the bar." She pointed at said place. "Loners eat there. It's kind of restaurant policy."
"Ouch," he said, pretending to be hurt. "you really don't like me, do you?"
Phoebe didn't say anything, because she didn't know the answer to that herself. Just like she wasn't sure about why she treated this man without any patience.
"I'll get your bread, salt, pepper, and napkins.. Sir." Phoebe tried not to forget that he was still a paying customer, and talking back to him would get her nowhere.
Maybe she was taking out all her unresolved business on him, despite not having anything to do with it. But people who irritated her, even in the slightest, could easily become Phoebe's fortuitous targets.
Forced to accept another hundred dollar tip from him almost threw her irritation over the edge.
Phoebe packed up at the end of her shift, after seeing Elena out of the restaurant and wishing one another well on their endeavors. Elena said she'd drop by frequently, and Phoebe was glad if it meant work would be more bearable.
Walking to school alone on her first day shouldn't have posed as much as a challenge as it did for Phoebe. The build-up to the moment she would enter the building, walk the corridors, and meet her classmates was inevitable. So she rose above it, like she always did. But it would have been nice to have someone to accompany her.
She arrived just in time but got caught up in administration while she was given some orientation and her schedule. Everyone else had already found their seats when she got to her first class, leaving Phoebe a place at the front, closest to the teacher's desk. They all avoided it like the plague. Except one boy, who was too busy making covers in his notebooks for each of the subjects. Light brown, tight locks draped over his forehead as he hunched over the desk to write and draw.
Phoebe sat next to him, yet, he still didn't acknowledge her presence.
"Hey," she said softly. However, he'd been so focused on his task that he got startled either way.
"'Sup?" He mouthed his greeting rapidly.
"I'm Phoebe."
"Mike," he introduced himself with a simple nod of his head. "You're the only new face around here." He stated matter-of-factly.
"And the prettiest one!" Phoebe heard a voice right next to her all of a sudden.
She spun around after getting some serious shudders. Another student that was sitting behind them had leaned forward.
"Ignore Ty, he's a creep." The girl at his side told Phoebe.
Phoebe wondered why the girl with hoop earrings and bright red lipstick was sitting next to the so-called Ty at all if he was a creep.
"You're just jealous 'cause you ain't the center of attention here anymore."
The boy put his hand over the girl's face and diverted his attention back to Phoebe.
"Not like I care for yours!" She said back, slapping his hand away.
The strange thing was that they actually seemed to get along.
"I'm Jenny." Jenny stretched out her hand, rolled up in a fist and introduced herself by bumping her fist against Phoebe's.
"All right, everyone settle down." A white-haired man, a little large around the edges, and with a walrus mustache under his nose said when he entered the classroom. He wrote a name on the middle of the blackboard and the date on the upper corner.
Mr. Ralph Mavros
Mon, Sept 9 1996
Mr. Mavros then turned to face the class.
"There's a new student, so allow her to introduce herself."
Phoebe rose from her seat reluctantly.
"Hey," she greeted rather coldly. "it's Phoebe Bradley."
"Where are you from, Phoebe?" The teacher questioned so the students would know more about her, seen as Phoebe didn't seem to want to be more informative herself.
"Connecticut. But originally from Newark."
A boy wearing a backwards cap at the end of the room booed jestingly. Phoebe rolled her eyes in his direction. She was aware how much people from New Jersey could be teased in New York.
"Now, now. I want you all to give Miss Bradley a warm welcome to Stuyvesant." The teacher indicated before sitting behind his desk and putting on his reading glasses.
At lunchtime, she found out that, despite Mike coming off as a nerd kid, he was actually quite the popular one. Ty was considered the jester and just as famous-or infamous-among the students. And Jenny was your typical, effortlessly gorgeous and confident girl. For the moment, it appeared to Phoebe that they were a good bunch. They definitely were all good students, at least-that was the only way anyone could get into Stuyvesant High School.
Another person joined them at the table just about when she was going to take a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
"So this is the chick that stole my desk?" He said, running his fingers through spiky hair with bleached, yellow tips once he threw his cap off on the table.
Phoebe set the spoon in her hand down back on the tray. "Me? Sorry, I didn't realize."
"You didn't steal anything, don't worry." Jenny began to explain. "Jake would never sit at the front of the class."
"No, but Mike's my bro. I gotta make sure whoever does sit at the front with him isn't a douche."
"Well, Phoebe's not a douche. As you can see, she's perfectly normal." She said back with a fair amount of sassiness. "Too normal in fact. I guess that's Connecticut for ya. We might have to funk her up a bit, don't you say?"
Ty nodded. "Can be arranged. Are you thinking Hips?"
"This Friday?" Jenny suggested.
"Fine by me," said Mike with an excited smile.
"Wait, wait. What the hell is Hips?" Asked Phoebe, completely lost.
They all chuckled.
"Just a dance club, girl. Hip-hop, r&b... You know-the best of the best."
Phoebe acknowledged Jenny's clarification with a simple 'ah'.
"Don't tell me you don't roll with hip-hop." Ty pretended to be insulted at Phoebe's lack of enthusiasm.
"No, it's not that. I've just never had much chance to dance. I'd make a fool out of myself."
"Just copy what we do. It's not that hard, I promise," Jenny stated.
"Fine. The club is for under twenty-ones, though, right?" They shared looks amongst each other instead of responding. "Right, guys?"
"Don't worry about it," Jake said collectedly.
"We talking fake IDs, then?"
"I mean not even that is necessary. It's practically our turf," he insisted.
Phoebe breathed out, reluctantly giving in for the time being.
Jenny leaned on the table and rested her head on her hands, looking decisively at Phoebe.
"Tell us a little more about yourself!"
Instead of relaxing, Phoebe tensed up again.
"Like what?"
"Like, what do your parents do? Do you work? Or why you went from Newark to Connecticut just to end up in Manhattan?"
"Or like do you have a boyfriend?" Ty teased while skillfully playing with an orange as though it were a ball.
He received a smack on the back of his head from Jenny.
Phoebe smiled at their strange friendship.
"Firstly, no. I don't." Phoebe replied to Ty. "Secondly, yes, I do work. And I don't really feel like answering the rest. Sorry."
"That's... Ok." Jenny said as though she understood or related.
"Where do you work?" Mike was the one to take part in the interest about Phoebe next.
She moved her head to the side. "Just around the corner, at the North Tower."
They all issued a surprised expression. It seemed she would be getting a lot of those any time she mentioned where she worked.
Before Phoebe could elaborate, Jake intervened.
"You some kind of pretty little sexcretary?" He asked as a joke.
Phoebe didn't know whether to take offense or not. She decided to just play along and not make foes on her first day.
"Screw you, Jake." The girl said without seriousness, flicking a pea from her lunch tray straight at his face.
He recoiled and scrunched up his face upon impact.
"Oh, snap!" Jenny laughed, causing the whole group to do so too.
Lunch break ended soon after. But Phoebe suddenly found herself in the middle of a cliché high school movie scene as soon as she departed from the table.
As she turned around with the lunch tray in her hands, she bumped into a passerby. The few remaining bits of food spilled downward onto a pair of shiny shoes.
Phoebe looked up from the mess to find an open-mouthed brunette that she vaguely recognized from first period, staring in horror at her feet.
"Damn. Sorry," Phoebe apologized.
Completely disregarding said apology, the girl groaned weirdly.
"You're lucky they're easy to clean, Newark!" She shouted with extreme irritation, remarking Phoebe by her city of origin. She then tried to shake the food away from the shoes.
"I said sorry."
The brunette squinted her eyes defyingly, concealing hazel irises.
"Watch your step, wop."
Phoebe took no offense with that remark either. She wasn't ashamed of where she came from.
And she sure as hell wasn't going to play nice anymore.
"I'd say it's you who should watch it." Phoebe took a glance at the girl's shoes while she said that, and smiled trying not to chuckle.
"Ugh!"
Phoebe let the girl pass as she pathetically hurried away, to the restroom likely, followed by some friends.
"Who was that?"
"Kaylee O'Moore. Pretends to be a loaded Manhattan socialité. We all know she's just a Hell's Kitchen bitch."
Jenny's answer was blunt, but quite useful. In other words, Kaylee was basically on an ego trip.
"Hell's Bitchen." Phoebe just couldn't resist making a bad pun. It was totally called for.
Jenny found it funny though, and laughed.
Phoebe was glad to discover that the high school she'd been dreading to attend against her mother's wishes, turned out not to be as elitist as she imagined.
On Friday, when everyone had already adjusted to being back at school, they all met as planned to go to Hips.
Phoebe, Jenny, Ty, and Mike were told to wait near the Brooklyn Bridge, which was just a few steps away from Dana's apartment.
Before that, Jenny and her had gotten ready together at Dana's. Phoebe lent her a top, and in exchange, Jenny braided Phoebe's hair so her curls wouldn't get in the way.
It felt nice to connect with a group so early already. Believing that making friends would've been so much more difficult than that, it was rewarding to find otherwise.
Ty and Mike were having a conversation a few feet away from the girls, so Phoebe took the chance to talk a little about them.
"I don't know how you manage it. You spend your time with three boys. And two of them are hella irritating," she said with humor.
"Jake can be a handful, for sure. Ty's aight." Phoebe had expected Jenny to elaborate a bit more on Tyler, but she didn't. "And Mike, well, you met him."
Phoebe nodded.
"Is there a reason he's so different from the rest? I don't mean it in a bad way. Just that he's quiet."
"He's my twin," Jenny revealed. Phoebe's eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the correlation. "That's to say, if he wasn't, he probably wouldn't hang out with a group like ours. Who knows? I've always liked to keep him close, and he doesn't complain. So that's that."
"Wow. Aight," Phoebe said once Jenny concluded. "I see it now. You guys have amazing genes."
Nighttime was approaching. The mix of red and yellowish headlights provided most of the illumination in the street. A pair of those headlights approached them, coming to a stop right in front.
Phoebe got into the back seat with Mike and Jenny. Ty went next to Jake, the driver.
Jake began crossing the bridge, and soon enough they were among the streets of Brooklyn.
"So, how do you guys know this place all the way out here?" Phoebe inquired.
"My cousin's the owner," Jake admitted.
"And he just lets you in."
Once he'd parked the car, he shrugged. "It's no big deal. Although maybe it is in stupid Connecticut."
"Are you going to shit on every place I come from?" She asked while getting out.
"It's not my fault they suck."
"Shut it already, y'all, and let's go in." Jenny walked decidedly into the club, taking Phoebe by the arm.
The deep beats of the music could already be felt on the stairs the way down to the club's dancefloor.
Ty was the first one to join the crowd after running past Phoebe and Jenny. Jenny was second, followed then by Jake and Mike last.
Mike was like a whole different person on that dancefloor. Phoebe thought it hard to believe that she could transform herself in that way too.
She stood there at the edge, observing her new friends enjoying the same music she regularly enjoyed too. And while they all surely had their own stuff going on, they appeared to have not only the chance but the conviction to seek time to be happy like this. It wasn't so easy for her to take the step.
"Phoebe! What are you waiting for?" Jenny shouted over the music as loudly as she could.
Phoebe responded by smiling insecurely.
"Don't be shy!" Ty also encouraged her.
In the end, it was Mike who took her hands and forced her into the crowd.
"Look at all these people. Nobody's gonna be looking at you or even see you." He told Phoebe as he dragged her toward the group. "Let go, trust me."
She agreed with a nod her head and a smile that conveyed her trust.
"Okay, Mike."
It was a whole new experience. Instead of being left to her own devices, Mike guided her, helped her, taught her moves so she wouldn't look like a fool or feel left out.
By the end, Phoebe was dancing to This Is How We Do It like it was second nature. Not entirely smoothly, but confidently.
"Look at Phoebe gettin' jiggy!" Said Ty when he noticed.
"Go, girl!"
Mike had a satisfied, collected expression on his face. As if proud that the scene before him the product of his work. Truth was, Phoebe had just needed a little push, and he knew that. He was simply happy he'd taken part in it.
When they felt sweat forming on their foreheads and overwhelmed by the amount of people around them, the group decided it was time to take a seat for a while.
The boys went to fetch some drinks, and Jen and Phoebe found a spot where they were able to talk without music sounding at a deafening volume.
"How you likin' it so far?"
"It's a nice place you have going on. And I can see why you come regularly. It's a good way to blow off steam," Phoebe admitted.
"Yo, shit!" Jake exclaimed as he walked back, a hand over his mouth.
"What?"
"Fuck, ni**a!" Ty joined in on the sudden pour of profanity.
"Speak! What the hell happened, Ty?" Insisted Jenny, now as preoccupied as them.
"It's Tupac, Jen," Ty mentioned the rapper whose music had just been playing a few moments ago.
"Guys over there just told us he's been popped," informed Jake.
As they processed the information, the music suddenly came to a stop. The DJ tapped on the mic and confirmed it.
"It has come to our attention that Tupac Shakur has been tragically slain. The music will stop for tonight. Sorry, people."
The club was vacated after the announcement. Nobody was in the mood to dance anymore.
They walked over to the back of the street, sulking.
"What a way to end the night," Jen stated, leaning against the graffiti-filled wall.
"No kiddin'," said Jake, who was reaching inside the pocket of his cargo pants. "Here. It'll help take your mind off it." He passed something on to her.
When it was offered to Phoebe, she smelled the air and noticed what it was.
"Is this...?"
"Weed? Mhm." Jake said.
Phoebe put her hand up.
"Then no, thanks."
"Ah, come on!"
Phoebe shook her head.
"Smoking ain't my thing."
They pressed no further, respecting Phoebe's choice. She also offered to drive back to Manhattan, make sure they at least got there without any issue.
Another two weeks went by and Kaylee wasn't up her butt all the time, but kept throwing stabbing glances at Phoebe. Across the classroom, across the cafeteria, gym, anywhere. And always being the first to answer a teacher's question, without ever waiting for turn, as if she had something to prove.
This was why work time actually provided an escape, not necessarily a great one, but at least she didn't feel as scrutinized there.
On the last day of September, her exclusive returned to the 107th floor. But Phoebe wasn't there.
"Where's the little redhead?" He asked the first server he saw.
"Phoebe?" Abdoul questioned, although he knew there was only one person with red hair working there.
"If that's her name." His shoulders lightly went upward.
"She's doing an evening shift at Wild Blue today, sir."
"That's in the same floor, right?" Asked the corporate, who, despite working in the tower was completely unfamiliar with the non-work related aspects of it.
However, for the first time, something unrelated to work had caught his strictly limited interest.
This is what breaking routine gets you, he thought to himself.
"Yes, just next door." Abdoul said with one eyebrow up, perplexed at the fact that the man barely knew his surroundings. "But are you sure you wouldn't rather just stay here now that you're seated? Tonight's special is—" Abdoul tried to argue.
He smiled politely. "No, thank you." And he left for next door.
Phoebe was cleaning one of the corner tables when she saw him enter.
He looked as neat and collected as always. His manner while he walked and took his time choosing a table was something Phoebe felt she needed to observe for some reason. His eyes darted around from one place to the other as if assessing every aspect of them. More than curious about taking a look at the fine restaurant, he was thoroughly inspecting it, before finally choosing a spot.
She saw from afar how Heather had already gone up to him while she'd been cleaning, so she decided to let her have him. However, she unintentionally eavesdropped when she returned to pack away the cleaning products.
"Good evening, sir—"
He once again interrupted another server in his quest for the feisty one.
"Can you get Phoebe? She's my server, you see."
Heather closed her mouth and acknowledged his request.
"I'll go get her."
However, when Heather was heading to call Phoebe, she was startled to find her already on her way. The other waitress gave her a questioning gaze as she passed by.
The man formed a gentle smile at her.
"Look at you, arriving before the bell rings," he told her.
Phoebe rested a hand upon her hip. "What can I say? I feel motivated today."
"That's nice to hear, Phoebe."
She was stalled for a second. "Uh, how do you know my name? We don't wear tags around here."
"It's not a coincidence that I'm here. In fact, I've never visited Wild Blue or stayed for dinner in the tower before."
"First time? I'll be gentle."
He ignored her distasteful joke. "As I was saying; I asked specifically for you, and was given your name. Pretty, by the way."
"Why?"
"Phoebe comes from the Ancient Greek phoibos, which means radiant, bright, shining one." He talked like a textbook.
"No, I know that. I mean, why ask for me?"
"Does there have to be a reason?"
Phoebe crossed her arms. "I thought I annoyed you."
The man scoffed humurously. "I'm pretty sure it's the other way round."
"Touché."
He leaned forward with an attentive and scrutinizing stare.
"You sound different."
He'd picked up on the subtle change in Phoebe since she'd started school and made new friends. Because no matter how non-toxic a friend may be, they'll always influence a part of you, how you act, or how you speak.
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do." He insisted. "You're sassier than before, but in a not-so-charming way anymore."
Phoebe cringed.
"Gross."
"How so?" His question was delivered in a way that made him appear quite innocent, what with the lights reflecting off his eyes and making them shine like those of a lost puppy.
"It's creepy, man. You're like sixty years old—you shouldn't think I'm charming," she told him without bringing up any details about her own age.
"Forty-one," he corrected. "And I didn't mean in it in that sense, so don't get your panties in a bunch."
"What the hell, man!"
He laced his fingers together with a desperate expression.
"My name is Walter, not 'man'."
"Old-guy name, good for you." I don't give a crap.
"Does your boss know what you treat customers like?"
"That's just you, man. Don't let it make you feel special. Now, you gonna order or what? Unless you would rather make me whip up another dreadful salad that's so boring it's not even on our menu?"
"Back up a second. You made that salad?" Phoebe nodded in response. "Are you even allowed to cook?"
"I may be a waitress, but I'm not a deadbeat."
"I never said you were." Walter adjusted the sleeves of his shirt under the jacket of his suit before picking up the menu with unnecessary meticulousness. "Alright, I'll order now."
"About time," Phoebe remarked under her breath.
That night not many more customers made an appearance in the small restaurant. Phoebe had little to do other than to lay low. Leaning over the bar, her lost gaze kept finding its way to the same person.
Even the way he cut up his food was unbearable. The potatoes and the filet were cut in perfect same-sized cubes.
Heather waved a hand in front of her sight.
"It's rude to stare."
Phoebe snarled.
"He was rude first."
Heather looked doubtful.
In the time Phoebe's gaze had been averted from him, Walter had apparently received a call on his fancy cellphone.
He could be heard all the way there.
"It's dinnertime, for God's sake. Your firm can survive the night without my counsel!"
After hearing this, Heather's doubt ceased. "Okay, I believe you." Heather chuckled before going over to her customers, who were asking for her.
A few moments later, when the phone call had already ended, Walter asked Phoebe for the bill despite there still being food left on his plate.
"Have to go," he said getting out his wallet. "Stupid CEOs would know how to manage their own goddamn companies if they had attended Business School at all."
Someone's cranky.
He paid. Then gave Phoebe her tip.
"A hundred and fifty? You can't be serious."
"Feel like you deserve more? Cut back on the rabid barking. The world is not out to get you. Neither am I." Walter stood from the chair, straightened his tie and buttoned the jacket of his suit.
She was rendered speechless for a minute as he gathered his briefcase.
Phoebe could only believe the audacity since it was something she already expected from shameless rich people. And definitely from him.
But this time it felt more personal. He was analyzing her.
She did not appreciate it.
"I don't want more! I don't even want this!"
"You sure?"
"Prick!"
He turned his back to her, his hand went up in the air as a goodbye as he quickly walked away.
She snarled once again.
However, compared to who set foot on the restaurant just a few days later, Walter seemed a lesser evil.
~~~~~~
Hi! It took a long time to complete this chapter, but I just can't leave my Phoebe and Walter hanging like that! I love them so much and this is a story I wanna tell.
If you enjoy please remember to vote and comment if you'd like too, helps a lot with the algorithm. I ask you to vote on the previous one if you forgot, as well. I hate asking this, but I know I myself sometimes forget to vote when I read something. Thank you!
I also made a concept drawing of Walter