14 Days, 7 Prompts, 1 Story (Feb 2010)

Basketcase

Once you got past the scar on his left cheek – and it was a doozy, running from his hairline to the corner of his mouth in a jagged diagonal line – he was really striking.  Especially those beautiful eyes, the color of imperial topaz; they were a perfect match for the teardrop earrings her stepfather had given her on her 21st, days before the divorce.

Changing out of her uniform, she realized the stupidity of what she’d done.  For all she knew he was a wife-beating serial-rapist with beautiful eyes.  She debated briefly sneaking out the back.

You’re a helper, Victoria.  It’s in your nature darling.  Admirable, I suppose.  Her mother’s words rang in her head.  Andrea hadn’t meant them as a compliment. 

Of course she wouldn’t do it.  He already seemed defeated. 

“I’m meeting someone,” he’d mumbled when he walked in.  By how nervous he was she figured it for a first date.  She’d given him the round corner booth the wait staff had dubbed lover’s corner.  Then nothing.  He sat there drinking coffee, getting more tightly wound by the second, staring at his watch and tapping old rock-and-roll tunes on the chipped Formica table.

She knew better than most the frustration of waiting for someone who wouldn’t show.  Small wonder the bleakness in his eyes resonated with her.  But she hadn’t realized she was going offer more than coffee until the words were out of her mouth, too late to take back.

Catching sight of herself in the sharp edge of the bathroom mirror she giggled.  After a ten hour shift, she was looking less than fresh.  Even if he was a serial murderer/rapist, Tory doubted she’d make anyone’s to do list right now. 

She redid her ponytail, working her recalcitrant hair into some semblance of order, and reapplied her lip gloss.  “Not a supermodel, but good enough for government,” she told her mirror image.  “Stop stalling Tory.  At least tell him no to his face.”  With that, she grabbed her backpack and made her way back to the main floor.

--

The grilled cheese was divine, the right amount of crunch to melt, cut into perfect triangles, accompanied with a basket of equally perfect shoestring fries.  He’d been tempted to sneak a bite of her cheeseburger, it looked so delicious. 

John had feeling one of the short order cooks had a thing for Tory, if the quality of the food was any indication.  He’d seen nothing else come out of the kitchen looking as good as their order, and he’d been here over two hours. 

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, sliding into the booth across from him. “I caught a look at myself in the mirror and had to do something about this hair.” 

Normally, when a woman said something like that, she was fishing for compliments.  But she gave him no chance to respond.  She attacked her burger as if she hadn’t seen food in days.  Only when she’d devoured half the burger and three-quarters of the fries did she look up at him.

“Oh Tony, bless you.”

“Tony?”

“I told him I hadn’t eaten all day, and he promised to make me something special.  How was your food?”  She nodded towards his empty plate and grinned.  “Not too shabby, eh?”

He looked down.  “I must’ve been hungrier than I thought.  I want another one, but don’t think it’ll be nearly as good.”  John risked eye contact and was rewarded by a soft private smile.  She kept getting prettier the more he looked at her.  Kind of like Amanda… 

He shut down that line of thinking; he was having a good time for the first time in who knows how long.  No cause to fuck it up by going there.

“You might be onto something.,” she said.  “Ever since Tracy called him a gremlin, Tony’s been on the outs with her.  She’ll tell him it’s my table though.”  Gesturing towards her milkshake, Tory asked him, “How do you feel about strawberry?  My eyes were bigger than my stomach, but I’m determined to finish this bad boy,” she said, taking a hearty bite from her burger.  “On second thought, let me at least taste it.”  She took a long pull from the straw, a little foam sticking to her upper lip. 

“I love milkshakes, don’t you?”  True to her word, she pushed the glass across the table.  “And this one’s perfect.  Extra creamy and goes down smooth.”  He couldn’t stifle a laugh.  It only got worse when her eyes went wide, finally catching the innuendo.  “You’ve got a dirty mind there John.”

“You’ve got some,” he pointed towards her lip.

“How long where you planning on waiting there buddy,” she laughed, licking it off.  He’d never seen a more unselfconscious woman.  John wished he’d met her before… but wishes and horses.

There was something irrepressibly joyous about Tory.  Maybe it was contagious. Since the accident no one, family, friends, coworkers, none of them knew how to act around him.  It was nice, he realized, to sit and just talk, without expectations or baggage.  Especially with a beautiful woman. 

“Me?  I didn’t say a word.  I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

In response she threw a fry at him.  “Damn.  See what you made me do?  I wasted a good potato.”