Read Online Alligators in the Trees by Cynthia Hamilton - Free Book Online

like a lovesick teenager— that she could handle. But she much preferred it when the famous rock star was intent on anonymity, vaguely resentful that she had to speak to him it all. Funny how that had changed, and it was now she who felt like hiding behind something.
    Fortunately, her job was so fast-paced she didn’t have time to dwell on personal feelings for very long. By the time Tobias’s order was ready, she had regained her usual composure.
    “Can I get you anything else right now?” she asked, her old aloofness and sense of control securely reestablished. Tobias barely acknowledged her this time. He was once again preoccupied with the slippery beginnings of a new song. Now that she was mentally prepared for his newfound familiarity, his disinterest irked her slightly. She grabbed pots of hot water and coffee and refilled the cups in her station. It was a pleasant contrast to have absurdly loyal and cheerful Phil eagerly awaiting her visit.
    “How did you like the omelet?” she asked as she poured more hot water into his teapot.
    “It was just perfect,” he said, leaning back to let Priscilla remove his plate. He must have liked it, because it was the first time he had eaten every scrap of his breakfast. “Thank you very much for ordering it for me.”
    “Not a problem,” she replied, craning her head to make out all the doodles on Philip’s placemat.
    “No peeking yet,” he said, covering the drawings with his arms. Priscilla laughed, shaking her head. It amused her that this distinguished man was really just a child at heart.
    “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, automatically totaling his ticket. Philip never wanted anything else; most people didn’t. Only a few who were hell-bent on heart disease were indulgent enough to order a slice of pie after the standard carb and fat overload.
    “No, maybe just another smile” he said coyly. She grunted good-naturedly and moved on.
    Priscilla realized there was some strange current running through her day when she rounded the corner of the kitchen with Philip’s empty plates, only to be ambushed by her wiry boss.
    “Jesus, Frank—you shouldn’t lurk in the doorway like that. June and I come through here like our tails are on fire,” she said peevishly. She deposited the dirty dishes in a bus tray, and was startled to find her employer was still stuck to her like chewing gum. “What’s on your mind, Frank?” she said, as she took the opportunity to sort through her tickets.
    “How he like?”
    “Who? What?”
    “Special egg—how he like?’
    “Oh…he loved it. Said to give his compliments to the chef,” she said, executing a fancy roll of the hand as she backed away. She resumed sorting through her tickets, assuming their conversation was finished.
    “I say hi to him—he tell me hisself,” Frank suggested brightly.
    “Yeah, you go do that, Frank,” Priscilla said, shaking her head in mild bafflement. She busied herself with side work, doing her best to ignore him. In a minute, though, she caught sight of her boss, resplendent in his filthy cook’s uniform, cruising through the tables. She was standing there, mouth agape, when June appeared by her side.
    “Who in hell-fire let him loose?” she asked, as the two of them watched in amazement as he greeted his surprised customers.
    “He took himself out for a walk,” Priscilla answered. “Hey, don’t ask me. This whole day feels extra weird to me,” she said.
    “We got to get him back in here,” June said, alarmed by the strange looks on her customers’ faces as he departed their tables. “It’s bad enough to eat his cooking without the compounded agony of having to hear him speak.”
    June’s words sunk in, and in a heartbeat, both waitresses were out of the kitchen like a shot. To Priscilla’s horror, Frank had passed on from a mildly confused Phil to an unwelcoming Tobias. Priscilla grabbed a pot of coffee and prepared to run interference.
    “How you like egg?”