Just a Job
She lifted up her arms, holding the two plates above her head in order to snake her way through the heavy crowd of employees. Her mind was filled with bitter thoughts. She was a slayer, she didn't need a job. But realization hit her, and she did need a job. She wasn't apart of the 'Chosen Two' anymore. She was apart of the 'Chosen Million'. She smirked bitterly at the thought, and if not for her ability to keep balance more able than most, she would have fell. Stumbling slightly, she managed to set the two breakfast plates down on the surface of the booth.
"Antonio, Julie." She offered them both a plain nod before getting back to work.
Antonio and Julie were both regulars. Newlyweds at that, and looked on the majority, happy. She was sure it wouldn't last long, but kudos to them. Hopefully the sex was good.
"Faith!" The slayer came to a stop, sucking in a breath as her boss spoke her name. She hated his guts, but he did pay her.
She turned around and glanced at the man that stood in front of her. He had quite a beer belly for a New Yorker. That seemed to be his only flaw. His voice was husky, his eyes a light brown, and his face nicely shaped for a man of his weight.
"Yeah?" She asked, wiping her hands on the towel that was tucked into the pocket of her apron as an easy distraction.
The hint of grease filled her nostrils, and the sound of a bustling morning crowd pooled the background. The restaurant wasn't much. A simple easy job of waitressing. It had the simple booths, and hard tiled floor, and the dark brown walls. It was arranged nicely, quite organized from Faith's opinion.
"I decided to give you a raise," He replied, eyes sweeping over her figure, but his eyes remained immune to the perverted look. "but, I would like you to work an extra hour on weekends."
Faith winced. Weekends, her only time to party like an animal. She needed the cash more than she needed to feel alive.
"I'll do it."
He sighed with relief at her answer, but his eyes lingered on her combat boots. They did look out of place.
"Good. And I was wondering, tonight, if you'd like to go for di-"
"No thanks, I'm kinda taken." Was her automatic reply, not letting him finish his sentence.
It was the easiest way to keep out of track of those who look for long term things. And something like dinner? She wasn't the dating woman herself. She ignored the crushed look in her boss's body language.
"I meant for business," He lied, obviously "but I can wait."
She nodded, then held out a thin slip of paper, her phone number ofcourse. It was saved for those one-nighters who liked to schedule, but it was pretty typical math for her boss to have her phone number as well.
"Call me, or I'll call you." Her gaze flicked over to a group of newcomers, and began heading in that direction as they set down at a booth. "Gotta get back to work."
He watched the gentle yet sinister sway of her hips and listened to the music that blasted from the juke box before leaving. His wife was waiting for him at home.
"Order?" She asked, trying to keep her own talk up. It was three kids. All guys. One with curly hair and brown eyes, with a red complexion of sorts. The other one was dark skinned, one of those school geeks, with a rounded pair of glasses. He was okay, if you forget how skinny he looked. The other one was cute, with black hair and a nice shape of face as did her boss.
"You guys look new around here.," She pointed out with an emphatical nod. "Got a name?"
Not that she meant to be nice, well, she meant to be nice. Asking for a costumer's name, mostly guys, always pulled in extra tips. As well did being nice.
"Yeah, I'm Sam, that's Brian," The black headed one nudged a single finger toward the one with the glasses. "And this is JD" He was now pointing at the one with the red curly hair, who offered a nod, Faith gave one in return.
"I'm Faith," She shifted her weight to one foot as she slightly leaned, tapping her combat boot against the hard tile floor. "You guys plan on eating or what?"
She took their orders, and why, these guys knew how to eat! You had to really appreciate that in a person. She then left the table, making her way toward the back and snaking her way through the crowd. This job was horrible, but it got you by. The paying wasn't half bad, and the tips were plenty. She knew leaving a few buttons left unbuttoned on her shirt would bring in the cash.
She set the order on the table and removed her apron with both relief of being let out of her confinement, and the ability to actually leave. It was tossed on the counter, where she removed the cash and shoved it in her own pocket.