I had the idea for this post while watching a PBS Special on of all things, breakfast and breakfast places. One such place was run by a woman with a bit of a rough background who hired people that normally wouldn’t be hired: ne’er-do-wells, people who’d been in jail, reformed addicts. There are not enough of those people around, so this is my homage to them. Warning, some mild cuss words.
The Diner
Maggie stood on the sidewalk, outside the door of her restaurant, The Rider Diner. She took a last drag on her cigarette and threw it on the sidewalk, grinding it out with the toe of her boot, picking up the butt to throw in the trash.
She paused as she stepped to the door as three Harley Motorcycles pulled up to the curb, all three backing into one parking spot, front wheels out. She pulled her sweater around her, waiting to see who was under the helmets.
“Andy, Bill, John, you old coots,” she called out as they hung their helmets on the bikes, “Come on in, I just put on fresh coffee.” They each had a big hug before they went in. They sat at the end of the counter.
“Ed,” she called through the window, “the boys are here.”
Ed came around the end of the wall; he slapped them all on the back while Maggie poured coffee. “Nice to see ya,” he said after the shoulder punching was done. “Same breakfast all around?”
They all laughed. While Ed was cooking their breakfasts, Maggie chatted with them. “Nice to see you boys.”
Andy looked at her closely, “How you doin’ Mags?”
She shrugged, “I’m alright. I got this diner with Hal’s insurance money. Keeps me busy. I miss riding though.”
“Shit Mags,” John snorted, “Come on out Sunday; my old lady will be along for the ride.”
Bill jumped in, “Mine too Mags, come on out to the club house, have some beers with us.”
She laughed as Ed brought the plates around to the guys. “I might do that.”
Letting Ed chat with the boys, she went to check the receipts. She did miss hanging with her old friends but it just wasn’t the same now that her husband had passed. Sighing, she brought the inventory up on the computer screen. She was just glad the cancer was quick.
When she heard the door open, she looked up. A scrawny girl with shoulder length brown hair came in, standing shyly by the door, looking from the men at the back to Maggie at the register.
###
Crap, Becky thought, I was sure no body’d be in here at ten. She looked at the woman at the register, whatta old battleax. She sighed; then stepped to the register. She pulled up the manners she hadn’t used since grade school.
“Excuse me ma’am,” Becky gripped the hem of her old Army Field Jacket, “I’m looking for a job. I can do anything.”
Maggie’s eyebrow went up, “How old are you?”
Becky gulped as her stomach knotted tighter, “I’m eighteen, last June.” She glanced to her right, to see if the men were listening.
Taking out her bandana, Maggie wiped her face, then tucked it back into the pocket on her apron. She shook her head. “I don’t know, I do most of the waitressin’ and bussin’ myself.”
Becky’s throat grew tight and in a small voice, “Thank you ma’am.” She turned to leave.
Maggie called out, “What’s your name girl?”
She turned back, “Becky, ma’am.”
Scratching at her collarbone, “What trouble are you in?”
Becky’s stomach lurched, “I’m clean, really. Just got out of county.” She began to wilt under Maggie’s stare. “Sorry to take up your time.”
The door was half open when Maggie called out. “Wait a minute, come on back.”
The guys at the end of the counter stopped talking, looked at the door then to Maggie, “go back to your breakfast boys,” she waved them off. They shrugged and went back to their gossiping.
“Come on back Becky, don’t let the heat out.”
Closing the door gently, Becky hardly dared to breathe. She inched her way back to the register.
“Where you stayin’ girl?”
“The YWCA gave me a room for a couple of days, but I gotta get a job or they’re gonna kick me out.”
“Hmm,” Maggie said. “What were you in for?”
Here it comes, Becky thought, she’s never gonna hire me. She looked at her feet, in a small voice, “shopliftin’.”
Maggie drew in a big breath, scratched her head. “Lunch starts in half an hour; can you bus tables and wash dishes?”
Becky’s head shot up, heart pounding, “Yes ma’am. I can do that.”
Maggie nodded. “There’s a clean apron hanging behind the kitchen door. Go on back, there’s breakfast dishes still to do.”
The End
739 Words
Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html