Chapter 29
I stopped a few tables away and stared. What was she doing here?
I dashed back to the waitress station and caught Josie. "I need to trade tables," I said.
"Let me guess," she said. "The blonde at table nineteen?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Sorry, no dice. She asked for you personally."
"How do you know?"
"I was there when they seated her."
"Oh crap," I said.
I glanced out toward the table. I'd met only two of Lawton's groupies in person. One was Brittney, and the other one was sitting out there at that table.
I'd waited on Amber exactly two times. Both times, she'd been with Brittney. The first time they'd gotten drunk and danced on their table, hoochie style. The second time, they'd come for the sole purpose of giving me a hard time.
Well, I'd just about had it. Maybe she was the customer, but I was way past caring. She'd hassled me at work. She'd hit on my boyfriend. She'd planned – or at least gone along with – that so-called prank.
When I reached her table, she had the menu propped up in front of her and was looking around expectantly.
I skipped the usual greeting and got straight to the point. "What are you doing here?"
She blinked up at me. "Was that a real question, or a funny waitress question?"
I didn't crack a smile. "A real question."
"I'm here to apologize." She glanced down at the menu. "Hey, what are your specials tonight?"
"Are you serious?" I said.
"Yeah," she said. "The fish tacos, are they good?"
"We don't have fish tacos," I said.
"Oh, poo. I was really in the mood for them." She ran a manicured fingernail along the menu's appetizer section. "The crab cakes, are they made with real crab? Or fake crab?"
"Real crab."
"You sure?" She wrinkled her nose. "Because fake crab tastes way too fishy."
"Forget the crab," I tossed my order pad onto the table and crossed my arms. "I believe I heard something about an apology?"
Amber gave a breezy wave of her hand. "Yeah, but I figure I'll do that after dessert."
"Let me get this straight," I said. "supposedly, you came in here to apologize. But you're making me wait on you first?"
"Why not?" she said. "The food's good, and I’m totally starving."
"You know what?" I said. "This is the worst apology, ever. No." I held up a hand. "Make that the second-worst apology, ever."
She grinned up at me. "Brittney, right? She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I heard how that went."
"From who?"
"Lawton's brother, who's totally luscious by the way." She licked her lips. "I figure with Lawton off the market, I should probably go after him. What do you think?" She cocked her head. "Am I his type?"
"How should I know?" And then the full impact of her words hit me. "And what do you mean Lawton's off the market?"
"That's what I hear," she said.
"From who? Brittney?"
"No way. I'm totally over her." Her eyes brightened. "So you've gotta tell me, did she really apologize naked?"
"Semi-naked."
"God, what a slut."
I stared down at her. The statement seemed awful strange coming from someone who probably matched Brittney guy for guy.
"Did you hear?" Amber said. "Brittney's totally cut off."
"What do you mean?"
"No more parties, no more V.I.P. tickets, none of that stuff. She's out like a trout. Blacklisted, totally."
I shook my head. "I don't get it."
"Well, that was the deal," Amber said. "Brittney and me, we had to make things right with you. And if not?" Amber slit an imaginary knife across her throat. "Cut off. Like yesterday. Lawton's got a lot of friends too. So it's not just him neither."
"So let me get this straight," I said, "if you didn't apologize, he was going to turn you into some kind of social pariahs?"
Her eyebrows furrowed. "What do man-eating fish have to do with anything?"
"Not piranhas," I said. "Pariahs. You know? Social outcasts?"
"Ohhh. Yeah. That's it." She brightened. "So here I am!" She glanced down at the menu. "Maybe I should have breakfast food, like French toast or something. What do you think?"
"I think," I said, "that this so-called apology isn't going so well."
"Oh, alright," she said. "Jeez, if you're gonna be all picky about it." She closed her menu and set it off to the side. "I'm sorry about our prank. We thought it would be funny, but obviously, it wasn't, and I'm really super sorry."
"Wow," I said, "that actually wasn't that bad."
"Thanks," she said. "I've had a lot practice."
"But I still don't understand how you'd call it a prank."
"Oh, it totally was," she said. "You know, like a steal-the-mascot thing. See?"
"No, I don't see. I'm not a mascot. I'm a person. And honestly? I don't think that stealing an animal is much better."
"Most of the time," Amber said, "it's just a statue or something. It's not like we'd kidnap a dog or anything. Jeez, what kind of people do you think we are?"
"Well, you tried to kidnap me," I said, "so I probably shouldn't answer that."
"Too bad we didn't get the chance to do your car. You might've found that funny at least."
I stared down at her. "What do you mean, do my car?" And then it hit me. Those two guys and their sedan. Their car had been vandalized, spray-painted with profanity. "Oh my God," I said. "You were gonna paint my car, too?"
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Paint? No way. That stuff doesn't come off. We use shoe polish."
"Shoe polish?"
"Yeah. One trip through the car wash, and it's gone."
"So your friends," I said. "Those two guys. Was their car painted? Or was that just shoe polish too?"
"Shoe polish, totally," she said. "Their car's fine now. Joey and Paul are still pissed, but hey, that's guys for ya. No sense of humor."
I felt myself swallow. Pissed or not, their car was fine. My car was fine. The only car that wasn't fine was Lawton's. And he'd done that at my prompting, even if that hadn't exactly been my intention.
"So," Amber said, "do you accept my apology or what?"
"I guess so," I said.
"Awesome," she said, reaching for her menu. "Because I'm in the mood for pancakes. You serve them all day, right?"
An order of pancakes and a spiked orange juice later, Amber was gone. And she actually left me a pretty decent tip.
I still wasn't sure how I felt about her so-called apology, but I had to give her credit for trying. If nothing else, she had been wearing clothes at the time, which was more than I could say for Brittney.
When my shift was over, I went to the back room and checked the schedule, posted on the back bulletin board. Looking at it, I felt my blood pressure spike and my gaze narrow. Keith changed the schedule, alright – just not in any way that would make me happy.
"That little weasel," I said.