quality of the furnishings. The likelihood of the owner springing for her to paint murals was slim. Yet, an idea was forming in her mind of a sixties motif with records and hoop skirts, a jukebox and motorcycles, all painted on the dull white walls.
The waitress finally finished with her customer and sauntered over. “Haven't seen you around here before. Passing through?"
Kiara nodded. “Yes. Well, I was. I need a job."
"Ever waitress before?"
She shook her head. “No, but I learn fast. If you give me a chance, I promise I'll give it my all, and I'll work any shift you need, overtime too.” She hadn't meant to sound so desperate.
The woman studied her. Kiara dipped her head so that her hair fell forward on her face. Irritation registered in the woman's expression. “You running away?"
"I—"
"References?"
She sighed. “No, I have no references.” She turned to go. “Thanks for your time."
"Wait.” She pulled at Kiara's arm, and she flinched. She dreamed of the day that wouldn't happen. Straightening her back and lifting her chin, she paused. “I had a girl who just quit. Hell, I would quit if I could. Okay, you're hired on a trial basis. But the moment you have a man coming around here causing trouble, you're gone. I've had enough drama in my own life to last a lifetime. I've been down that road of abuse, and I don't want to relive it through you. Got it?"
Kiara hid a frown. One would think if the woman had been abused by the man in her life, she would have more compassion for someone else in that situation. She guessed not. Everyone responded to life's issues differently.
"Yes,” she affirmed. “I got it."
* * * *
Six months. Six glorious months, she was free, working at the diner and pocketing her money. No one stole from her. The most trouble she had had to deal with was prejudiced white men and women who came into the diner occasionally. Not the locals, but those passing through. She ignored their snide remarks and kept on going.
Francine, the head waitress that had hired her, patted her shoulder. “Don't let them get to you, Kiara. The women are just jealous you're so beautiful, and the men want to get with you."
Kiara laughed, her heart light, or as close to light as it could be. She had come to the conclusion over the last few months that she had grown to love Jiro and Ayumi. Her heart ached for Jiro nightly, but the course she had chosen was the best she could make. “Me beautiful?” She grinned. “Yeah, right."
Francine spun her around. “Look at you. You've put on weight. When you came in here, you were skin and bones. I think you've picked up a good twenty pounds or so. Got yourself a butt now."
One of the local men—sixty-five if she had to guess—whistled. “Yeah, nice butt too."
Francine rolled her eyes. “More men than that old fart have noticed.” She indicated the black man at the end of the counter. Kiara had caught Junior's eyes on her more than once. She knew he liked her, but she was not interested. He looked like a good guy, but so had Odell in the beginning.
"Sorry, I don't think so,” she told Francine.
"Come on, girl, you're young and fresh. You need a man.” She winked. “'Sides, I've known Junior since he was five years old when his father came through here and dropped him with his grandmother. Haven't seen the man since. Give Junior a chance."
Kiara dropped the conversation as her shift was over. Convincing Francine she didn't care if the woman had known him fifty years was impossible. She scooted around the counter and gathered her purse and a sweater. “Night everyone."
Francine grumbled, but said no more. She waved Kiara off.
The night was cool. Kiara slipped on her sweater and walked a little faster. Soon fall would turn to winter, her least favorite season. She had four blocks to go to get to her three room duplex. The place wasn't much, but it was hers. She always got a thrill heading home, no matter how exhausted she was.
"Kiara?” Someone
The waitress finally finished with her customer and sauntered over. “Haven't seen you around here before. Passing through?"
Kiara nodded. “Yes. Well, I was. I need a job."
"Ever waitress before?"
She shook her head. “No, but I learn fast. If you give me a chance, I promise I'll give it my all, and I'll work any shift you need, overtime too.” She hadn't meant to sound so desperate.
The woman studied her. Kiara dipped her head so that her hair fell forward on her face. Irritation registered in the woman's expression. “You running away?"
"I—"
"References?"
She sighed. “No, I have no references.” She turned to go. “Thanks for your time."
"Wait.” She pulled at Kiara's arm, and she flinched. She dreamed of the day that wouldn't happen. Straightening her back and lifting her chin, she paused. “I had a girl who just quit. Hell, I would quit if I could. Okay, you're hired on a trial basis. But the moment you have a man coming around here causing trouble, you're gone. I've had enough drama in my own life to last a lifetime. I've been down that road of abuse, and I don't want to relive it through you. Got it?"
Kiara hid a frown. One would think if the woman had been abused by the man in her life, she would have more compassion for someone else in that situation. She guessed not. Everyone responded to life's issues differently.
"Yes,” she affirmed. “I got it."
* * * *
Six months. Six glorious months, she was free, working at the diner and pocketing her money. No one stole from her. The most trouble she had had to deal with was prejudiced white men and women who came into the diner occasionally. Not the locals, but those passing through. She ignored their snide remarks and kept on going.
Francine, the head waitress that had hired her, patted her shoulder. “Don't let them get to you, Kiara. The women are just jealous you're so beautiful, and the men want to get with you."
Kiara laughed, her heart light, or as close to light as it could be. She had come to the conclusion over the last few months that she had grown to love Jiro and Ayumi. Her heart ached for Jiro nightly, but the course she had chosen was the best she could make. “Me beautiful?” She grinned. “Yeah, right."
Francine spun her around. “Look at you. You've put on weight. When you came in here, you were skin and bones. I think you've picked up a good twenty pounds or so. Got yourself a butt now."
One of the local men—sixty-five if she had to guess—whistled. “Yeah, nice butt too."
Francine rolled her eyes. “More men than that old fart have noticed.” She indicated the black man at the end of the counter. Kiara had caught Junior's eyes on her more than once. She knew he liked her, but she was not interested. He looked like a good guy, but so had Odell in the beginning.
"Sorry, I don't think so,” she told Francine.
"Come on, girl, you're young and fresh. You need a man.” She winked. “'Sides, I've known Junior since he was five years old when his father came through here and dropped him with his grandmother. Haven't seen the man since. Give Junior a chance."
Kiara dropped the conversation as her shift was over. Convincing Francine she didn't care if the woman had known him fifty years was impossible. She scooted around the counter and gathered her purse and a sweater. “Night everyone."
Francine grumbled, but said no more. She waved Kiara off.
The night was cool. Kiara slipped on her sweater and walked a little faster. Soon fall would turn to winter, her least favorite season. She had four blocks to go to get to her three room duplex. The place wasn't much, but it was hers. She always got a thrill heading home, no matter how exhausted she was.
"Kiara?” Someone
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