Nalaniangel24
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Tips
Tips
by Nalaniangel
rated G
Summary: Brennan comes into a diner injured and prompts the interest of the waitress.
AN: sequel is Prequel
The tips have been coming in slow for a while, but today is just a slap in the face. The man on the end of the bar has been drinking his water for the past two hours. There are two truckers in a booth in the corner. I'm not sure if they're lovers or are about to kill each other. There's also a woman getting ready to leave. She's the one who gave me the money. I see her everyday.
"Mari, get me one to go, okay?" she asks. She wants a coffee with extra cream and I fill up a paper cup and put a lid on it. She slides another dime across the bar and takes it. "Thanks," she says. I took this job for money. I'm starting to think the job at the gas station would have been a better choice. Its not like there are a lot of choices for a 17-year-old living in a stupid desert rest stop.
The restaurant is quiet again with the exception of the trucker's quiet fighting.
"Don't they ever shut up?" the man grumbles, dipping his fingers into his water and putting them on his side. He winces and wipes his fingers on his pants. I realize I've been studying him since the beginning of the day and I never noticed the 5-inch gash bleeding through his shirt on his side.
I walk over to him and pretend to be cleaning. I've already done it twice, once to get him to notice me, and then again to find out if he was noticing anything going on around him. He finally looks up and gives me a very weak, pathetic smile, but at least it seems genuine. He holds out his hand but realizes there is blood dried on it and puts it back down.
This guy seems so sweet that I have to say something, even if he isn't going to leave me a tip or order something that costs money.
"Are you waiting for someone?" I finally ask.
"No," he answers. "I was supposed to call someone to pick me up an hour ago but I wanted to be alone for a while."
"Oh, sorry," I say, starting to wipe the counter again. That was an obvious tip for me to butt out and go away.
Maybe he doesn't know that he told me to leave because he keeps watching me and waiting for me to say something, or else he's waiting for a refill. The glasses are small and he might not be able to stick his hand in the cup for the water at the bottom.
After a few seconds I decide to do both. "So where do you live?" I ask. I have to close my eyes to keep from throwing up as the pieces of blood float down the sink.
"New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire, New Orleans," he says, shrugging. "I can never remember."
"I'm from Peakstone," I say.
"Where?"
"Here," I tell him. I'm starting to wonder about this guy. "Hey, I think there's some stuff in the back that could help that. And if you aren't planning to go anywhere, you could at least take a shower."
"I'm that bad, huh?" he asked, laughing a little.
"Not good," I answered. I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want him to think I was a liar when he actually saw himself. He stands up, but it's half stand, half caveman. His shirt moves a little and I can see the gash from a slit in it. It must be deep because it doesn't look that bad. But what do I know about anything.
"Where?" he asks, snapping me out of my study.
"Uh, back there," I answer. I look around at the restaurant. There isn't enough business to not go back and watch. I lead him back there.
"Do you live here?" he asks. There are two cots and a pile of clothes in the corner, a big bookshelf filled with everything but books. I go over and take some Neosporin off of the top.
"My brother does, sometimes I join him," I answer. When my sister gets unbearable, I stay here.
He nods and goes into the bathroom. After a second I hear the water and leave back to the front.
"Hey lady, check," one of the two truckers shouts at me. I get it and go over there. He hands me a dollar. He's been there for over three hours and between them have had two breakfasts, three cokes, a shake, and a hamburger, and I get a dollar. Life isn't very fair. If it were fair, I would be in the shower with him and holding a million dollars.
I try to clear the thoughts from my head before I get any more delusional, and I give a polite fake smile to the guy. He comes up a second later and pays for their meals. I wait until they leave and then go to the back room again. He's in there in his jeans and undershirt, drying his arms off with his white over shirt.
"Thanks," he says.
"No problem," I tell him. "So how did you get hurt?"
"Being a superhero," he answers. "Some people just don't appreciate peace." I nod. He looks like the kind that doesn't appreciate it either. Like he was reading my mind he says, "But I'd rather be fighting than sitting around."
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Brennan," he says. I don't know if he's telling the truth, but it doesn't sound like he's lying. But again, what do I know. "Who are you?"
"Mari," I answer. We're both quiet for an uncomfortable second.
"Well thanks," he says. He takes a $20 from his pocket and gives it to me. "Thanks."
"Thanks," I echo, putting the $20 in my pocket. The cook and I split all the tips, but I don't think he has to know about this. I'll give him the dime.
Brennan and I go out front again. He puts on his over shirt and goes over to the pay phone.
"Hey Adam… yeah, Peakstone I think, just trace the call… a restaurant… okay, bye," he says.
Brennan comes back over and sits at the counter again. Just as we're about to talk again, three busses pull up and a million kids and teachers pile out. We both glance at each other, knowing this is the end of the peace. I start seating everybody.
A half hour and 27 cheeseburgers later, I glance back over to the seat. He's gone and he left something on the counter. I realize it's just one of those paper cups we give to people who want to take their drinks before I get too excited by thinking it's a bracelet or something. On the side it says 'to the best waitress I ever had, sorry we couldn't talk more, check the bottom.' I can't figure out what he means for a second, then I look at the bottom of the cup. It's a phone number. I don't know the area code but I'm guessing the $20 he gave me will get used up quick. Almost everything from Peakstone is long distance.
I can't wait to get off.
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