Here's another picture prompt for this week. I'm going with something whimsical and fun.
Enjoy!
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"What are you doing?" I asked as Tiffany turned into the parking lot of the diner. We were supposed to be on our way to the movies, not to the run-down throwback to the fifties that wasn't even cool enough to be retro.
"They have the best milkshakes!" Tiffany replied, tugging at the scarf in her hair and peering into the rear view mirror.
"What's wrong, Claire?" Kayla piped up from the back seat. "We all know you've got a thing for Ryan."
Tittering laughter filled the car, and I sank down in my seat as my cheeks flushed. Sure, everyone knew I had a "thing" for Ryan. By now he knew it, too, and yet, he never so much as looked my way. It was beyond humiliating. I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen. Tiffany parked and turned her old civic off.
Three of the four doors popped open. Tiffany climbed out, then bent over and stuck her head back in the car. "Coming?"
"I think I'll just sit this one out." I flipped through a couple pictures on Instagram, not really looking at any of them.
"You do realize I parked right in front of the window, don't you."
Of course she did. And I would rather die than think about Ryan wondering why I was in the car. He'd think I was a freak. I slipped my phone into my pocket and followed the rest of the girls in.
It took me ten nanoseconds to make sure Ryan wasn't in front just now. His mom owned the diner, and he pretty much got to choose where he wanted to work. Still, there was a window to the back, and I knew from experience it was easier to see out than to see in. For all I knew he was watching me walk in and sit down next to Tiffany. I felt the pins of hyper-awareness prickling the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. Was I smiling too wide? Was I walking funny? Did I laugh too loud? I probably did all of those things as we ordered and drank our milkshakes - Did he think I was stereotypical for ordering chocolate? Or did he suspect I ordered it because I happen to know it's his favorite, and I'm stalking him, and it's creepy? Or does he somehow know it's my favorite, too, like he's been paying as much attention to me as I do to him?
Ryan still hadn't made an appearance, but Kayla was shaking her head at me. All I wanted to do was to pay for our milkshakes and get out of there as fast as humanly possible. Being in the same building as Ryan made me neurotic.
Finally, Tiffany finished off her own shake with a long, loud slurp, and stood up. She dropped a five dollar bill on the table, and each of the rest of us followed suit. My heart started to slow down. I was almost home free. I hadn't heard a word anyone had said for the last fifteen minutes, and I'm sure I'd looked like an idiot, sitting at the table and grinning, but now it was over. Tiffany was lingering, so I pushed ahead of her and led the way to the door.
I grabbed the handle, but before I could pull, the door swung in.
"Sorry I'm late, Mom, I had to ..."
Every muscle in my body froze, as if every individual cell had been skewered by an acupuncture needle simultaneously. My lungs ached for air, but my diaphragm refused to cooperate. Little dark spots swam in front of my eyes as my head started to swim.
Ryan stopped only inches away from me, his voice trailing off as his eyes met mine.
It's amazing how much of him I could take in in such a short amount of time. He wore a pair of stonewashed, belted skinny jeans over a pair of red converse. His grey and blue plaid, button-up shirt hung loose around the waist, but puckered slightly over his biceps and shoulders. He wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that I knew he actually needed to see, not just for looks. And ... he smelled like the chemistry lab and Altoids.
I shivered.
"Claire." My name fell from his lips as his eyes widened.
Is he surprised to see me? Do I make him uncomfortable? Heaven knows that could be it, with everyone talking about how I'm crushing on him ...
He ducked his head, breaking eye contact, then lifted his eyes, glancing around the diner, as if to see if anyone was watching. He pressed his lips together.
I forced myself to remember to breathe, shifting my weight to keep my knees from giving out on me.
Then he looked back at me ... and smiled.
Tiffany swooped between us, grabbing me by my forearm. "Hi Ryan! We're just on our way out! See you later!"
Ryan reached up, holding the door open for us, and Tiff ducked under his arm, pulling me with her. Kayla and the other girls followed. Tiffany practically ran to her car, giggling under her breath and wiggling her eyebrows at me.
Had Ryan just smiled ... at me? I couldn't help myself. I had to look back.
Ryan stood in the doorway, still holding the door although we were all back in the car. We were far enough away now that I couldn't be sure, but I felt the thrill of eye contact again. Just before he turned away, he lifted his chin in that way guys do.
And I wondered if we might stop by again after the movie for another shake.
The doorbell clanged as I opened the door. I briefly scanned the dining room as I let the slam shut. The diner was nearly empty, but given the hour, that was normal. It was always easier in the off hours. I walked straight to the counter, with its red bar stools and red tile. Too much red, way too much red, at least for me. I couldn’t see anyone behind the counter, so I lifted the display case lid and grabbed a cookie, taking a big bite. It wasn’t very good, too hard for my taste, but oh well. It helped to show these people who was boss. I walked around the corner, looking for George, the owner. I found him at the soda machine, filling a couple of glasses. I felt a smile crease my lips. George was always one of the easiest. Something about his culture, perhaps. Or perhaps it was just the fact that he was yellow clear through. George almost dropped the glasses when he saw me. I could tell his hands were shaking. Good, I thought, this should be even easier than last time.
ReplyDelete“You wait for me, here. I take soda to customer and come right back.” George’s accent was getting better. I could actually understand him this time. George’s face was passive, but his eyes tightened a bit as I slowly raised the cookie to my mouth and took a big bite. He started walking toward me with the glasses, ice clinking as his hands shook. I considered knocking one out of his hands, just to make sure he knew his place, but decided against it. No need to antagonize him too far. When it came to this kind of scam, you had to make sure not to push the mark too far. People who thought they had nothing to lose sometime grew a spine…even the yellow ones. I only slightly moved my right shoulder so that he would have just enough room to squeeze past me.
I looked around. Nothing had changed. The kitchen was still clean. Actually, it was really clean. George had no idea how good his place looked compared to most of the places on my beat. He had a lot to lose; that was why he was such as easy mark.
George returned quickly and waved his hand for me to follow him to the office in the back. I mentally prepared myself to resist the urge to hit him when he inevitably began to whine.
I entered the office just after him and waited by the door. To my surprise, he didn’t whine at all. He just handed me an envelope from off the top of the desk and asked if it was enough to protect him for 6 months. I opened the envelope and pulled out the stack of bills. Counting hundreds was easy. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. I nodded to him and smiled, tipping my hat in a mock sign of respect. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I said in my most condescending tone, as I turned around…and froze, my hand still on my hat.
I was so shocked, I didn’t even think about resisting as the Bobbies handcuffed me. I looked down and saw one of them pick up the envelope.
“Now who da biiiiiig man! Huh? Now who in charge!” shouted George, laughing, as they started pulling me toward the back door.