Betting on Love

by Alyssa Linn Palmer

  “Not while I’m working.”

  “Sure you are,” Will interjected. “You can’t not sing on karaoke night. It’s just plain wrong.”

  “Get Eric to sing,” Alex replied.

  “Oh no, not me.” Eric shook his head. “Don’t you even start.”

  “Coward,” Will taunted. Eric flipped him the bird, and they both laughed.

  “Alex, your nachos!” Charity stood at the pass-through, holding the plate.

  “Right here, gorgeous,” Will said, waving. Charity rolled her eyes.

  “Doesn’t he ever give up?” she said as Alex came to take the plate from her.

  “Never. Sometimes it’s part of his charm,” Alex replied.

  “Not today. My boyfriend’s supposed to be here in a while and he’d lay into Will if he heard that.” Charity turned and went back to the restaurant side before Alex could tell her about Eric.

  “Thanks, darling,” Will said when she brought him his nachos. “You’re the best.”

  “Should I believe you?”

  “Of course. You’re my number one girl.” Will rose on his stool and leaned over the bar, making a kissy sound and puckering his lips. Alex laughed, but she kissed him anyway.

  “Sit down, you fool.”

  When there was a lull between orders, Alex confided in Eric, “I think you’re out of luck.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Charity said her boyfriend’s coming tonight. You should have made a move sooner.”

  “Damn. Well, she never seems to hold on to them long. I can be patient.”

  “And you think she’ll hold on to you?”

  “I’ll sweep her off her feet,” Eric vowed.

  “For your sake, I hope it works.” Alex felt a bit of pity for Eric, always pining after a girl he couldn’t have. He hadn’t learned better yet.

  “Alex Bellerose, you’re up!” Bruce bellowed. Still at the bar, Will laughed.

  “Good luck, Bellerose. You’ll like this one.” He grinned.

  Alex sighed, trying to hide her amusement. “You jerk. If I get in trouble, it’s all your fault,” she said, shaking a finger at him as she came around the bar.

  “You won’t. It’s only one song. But what a song.”

  She stepped up onstage and Bruce leaned over to her. “Will chose ‘Toy Soldiers’ by Martika. That okay? If not, I can put something else on.”

  “He’s really in an eighties mood tonight, isn’t he?” Alex quipped. Earlier, Will had sung a decent cover of a Genesis song.

  “Must be. You’re good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” She hadn’t sung it in a long while, but she remembered it, at least. It would be easy. There were a few hoots and whistles as she began, but the crowd settled in to listen, and she threw herself into the song. Afterward, she went back up to the bar.

  “Nice one, Bellerose,” Will said, lifting his beer.

  “Not very hard. You’re slipping.”

  “I wasn’t trying to piss you off,” Will replied. “I figured you’d like that one.”

  “Pulling your punches? Since when?” It was unlike him.

  “Since I wanted to invite you home.”

  “Smart move.” She hesitated, then brushed off the twinge of doubt.

  “What time are you off?” Will took a swig of his beer.

  “Two, or thereabouts, unless I sweet-talk Eric.” Alex pulled the chits off the machine and put them in front of her, pouring drinks as she talked. “But it’ll have to slow way down. And I could use the money anyway. I hope you’re patient.”

  “Always,” Will said. “You know that.”

  She did know, and she loved him for it.

  *

  Elly had spent her weekend applying for more jobs, though she kept hoping for a callback from her interview the week before. She’d even taken the step of walking the neighborhood, looking for Help Wanted signs, but the only places advertising were the fast-food restaurants a few blocks over, and she wasn’t quite that desperate yet. But still, if she didn’t find a job soon, she’d run out of money. Everyone had said that jobs were easier to get if you lived in the city, despite the recession, and she had qualifications, albeit a Fine Arts degree and design experience. If only she could find a job at a design firm, but she hadn’t come across any listings for those, and she’d exhausted her local contacts in the industry.

  She wondered if she should have stayed at the farm and found some way to make things work. The ache of homesickness had barely subsided, and with last week’s visit it was back in full force. She set her laptop on the coffee table and rose from the sofa, going into the kitchen for a cup of tea, trying to distract her thoughts. From the cupboard she took one of the antique rose-blossom covered cups and a saucer. Alex had been right. She should use them, enjoy them, instead of having them hidden away in the shed.

  Sensible Alex.

  She’d thought the trip would have been too much for her, being alone with Alex that long, and being on the motorcycle especially, but she’d been surprised. She could see why Alex loved it, the speed, the feel of the wind, the expanse of the environment around them, far nicer than driving in a car, shut off from everything. The chances of an accident, though…

  Elly shivered. There was no way she could do that often. Her knees had been jelly when they’d dismounted in the driveway at the farm, and she’d been thankful to have made it there in one piece. Mrs. Calderwood had a point.

  The teakettle reached its boiling point and clicked off, and Elly poured the hot water into her cup with the tea bag. Her phone vibrated on the coffee table, a startlingly loud rattle, and her hand slipped on the handle of the kettle, which hit the gilded rim of the teacup. It cracked, and she stared in horror at the damage. Her grandmother’s teacup.

  She set the kettle down and rushed out into the living room, scooping up her phone.

  “Hello?” Her heart pounded and she laid a hand on her chest.

  “May I speak with Ms. Cole?” the voice asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “Ms. Cole, it’s Ms. Terry. You interviewed with us last week.”

  “Yes, I remember. How are you?”

  “Good, thank you. I just wanted to call and update you, but I’m sorry to say it isn’t good news. Unfortunately the position has been filled.”

  Elly could hardly speak, but she forced out a faint, “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “I hope you’ll apply again if we have another position available,” Ms. Terry said, sounding a tiny bit contrite.

  “I may do that. Thanks.”

  Elly hung up the phone and sagged down onto the sofa. What now? It had been the most promising of her interviews thus far, yet she still hadn’t gotten the job. The phone hung loosely in her hand and she thought about calling Jack and telling him that she’d come back to the farm, back to her real life. But she didn’t want to give up so easily.

  She checked her bank balance and sucked in a breath. She needed a job. But where, and on short notice? She went back to the kitchen, wincing as she saw the cracked cup. Maybe she should have left them at the farm after all. She took down a mug from the cupboard and filled it with tea, topping it up with cream from the fridge. If she wanted a job quickly, she knew she’d have to go into the service industry, or retail. It would be just like working at the diner.

  Back in the living room, she dug out a few copies of her resume. There were lots of restaurants around. Maybe some of them were looking to hire servers. She wasn’t sure she could work behind the bar, but she could serve tables easily enough.

  She dropped resumes at all the restaurants she could along 17th Avenue, but her efforts were met with tepid enthusiasm. She kept one copy and took it into the lounge at Parry’s. Alex grinned at her when she slid into a seat at the bar.

  “Hey, you. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. What do you want to drink?”

  “Something strong,” Elly replied, surprised at Alex’s friendliness after their fight the other day. “It�
��s been a rough day.”

  “Whisky and cola, then?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Alex poured the drink and set it in front of her, then went to help some other customers.

  “Hey there!”

  Elly looked over. Charity stood in the pass-through to the restaurant. “Hey, Charity. How’s business? Busy today?”

  “Not so much, not yet, anyway.” She came into the bar. “What’s this?” She picked up Elly’s resume, flipping through it.

  “I didn’t get the job I interviewed for last week. They called this afternoon. So I’m going to my last option, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Back home, I used to work in the diner, and it looks like I’ll have to do the same again here. I can’t afford not to work.”

  “Where’d you apply?”

  “Where didn’t I?” Elly reeled off the names of a dozen restaurants.

  “All those?” Charity looked impressed.

  “But I don’t know if I’ll get much response. Most of the managers didn’t seem too keen.”

  “They never are.” Charity rolled her eyes. “But when one of their staff up and quits with no notice, they’ll be happy to have people they can call. And you have experience.”

  “I can’t wait around. But I don’t want to work at McDonald’s, either.”

  Charity grinned. “Give me a few minutes,” she said, “and if anyone comes to the pass-through looking for me, tell them I’m restocking the pop.”

  “All right.” Elly sipped her drink. “Where are you really going?”

  “You’ll see.” Charity left, pushing through the swinging door into the back of the restaurant. Elly sat patiently, watching the football game on the TV over the bar, though she didn’t know much about the teams playing. But it was something to do.

  Charity came back, followed by an older man with thinning gray hair, wearing a slightly rumpled white shirt and a gaudy red striped tie. “Elly, this is Derek. He’s the general manager here. And just the other day, he was saying to me how we needed another server, and how it was so busy. Weren’t you, Derek?”

  Derek smoothed his hand down his tie and grinned amiably at her. “I always need staff,” he replied. “And Charity says you have experience. You could start tomorrow evening, and if it works out, then we could hire you on full-time.”

  “What’s the pay?” Elly asked.

  “Minimum wage plus tips. And you’d tip out four percent to the back-of-house staff.”

  “Done.” Elly rose from her chair and held out her hand. Derek shook it.

  “Wear black pants, comfortable black shoes, and a white shirt. I’ll lend you a monogrammed shirt to wear. Your shift will start at five and end at eleven, unless it’s slow.”

  A server called his name, and he frowned, turning. “See you then, and make sure to bring a float,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to the restaurant side. Elly sank down into her chair.

  “That was fast.”

  “Told you.” Charity said. “Gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” She darted back into the restaurant.

  Alex came back to the bar and poured two drinks that had been waiting on her chit machine.

  “What was all that about?” she asked as she poured.

  “I have a job,” Elly said, feeling a giddy sense of relief.

  “Do you? That’s awesome. Where?”

  “Here, in the restaurant.”

  “What? Since when?” Alex looked startled.

  “Since now,” Elly said. “Thanks to Charity.”

  “So we’ll see each other all the time,” Alex said, and Elly wasn’t quite sure if she was happy about it or not.

  “I think we will—I start tomorrow evening.”

  “You going to stick around?” Alex asked, putting the drinks on the pass-through. “We could celebrate after I’m off. Eric’s coming in for the closing shift in about half an hour.”

  “I’ll stay,” Elly replied.

  “You can sleep in tomorrow,” Alex promised. “A new job deserves a few drinks. Or more. You’re just lucky it isn’t karaoke night.”

  Chapter Ten

  From the moment she reached Parry’s, Elly was on her feet, working hard. Derek had given her a uniform shirt, a short black apron with pockets for her cash and notebook, and a swipe card. He’d run her through a breathless recitation of the functions of their ordering system, then retreated to his office.

  “You’re in section two,” he said. “It’s the smallest. Any problems, ask Charity.”

  Feeling a bit shell-shocked, Elly stared after him. Where was section two? She took a deep breath. She could, and would, do this. It was just like the diner back home, except…bigger.

  “Hey!” Charity came around the corner by the kitchen and waved. “Derek said you’d be starting. That’s awesome.”

  “Is it just us working?” Elly asked, looking out over the mostly empty restaurant.

  “A couple of others, Amie and Jesse, will be coming in at six. Did Derek give you the rundown?”

  “He gave me the basics.”

  Charity snorted. “So not much of anything then, huh? Well, take a few minutes while it’s slow to look at our menu, and try to remember as much as you can. Shay’s our hostess tonight and I’ll tell her not to seat you with too many tables right away.”

  “Thanks, Charity.” Elly pulled a menu from the stack and opened it, the plastic laminate sticky on her fingers. It might not be as hard to remember as she’d thought. She’d read through the appetizers, salads, soups, and onto the sandwiches before Shay nudged her elbow.

  “A table for you,” she said, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. She was a small and slender girl, but heavily made up, her hair obviously dyed. “I sat them at two-four.” She pointed to a map of the restaurant tacked up near the computer, and Elly quickly located the table. She set down the menu.

  “Thanks, Shay.”

  “No problem.” Shay hustled back out to the hostess stand.

  Elly squared her shoulders and took out her notebook and pen. She made her way over to the table, where an older couple sat, looking idly through the menu.

  “Good evening, and welcome to Parry’s. Can I get you two something to drink to start off with?”

  “Beer,” the man said, abruptly. “Pint of Molson’s.” He didn’t look up from his menu.

  “Oh, you’re new, aren’t you, dear?” the woman, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, said.

  “I am,” Elly replied as she wrote down the man’s drink order. “Just started.”

  “We come here a lot,” the woman said. “I’m Sharron and this is my husband, Tony.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Elly smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. “Would you like something to drink, Sharron?”

  “White wine, dear. Just the house brand is fine with me. We’ll probably eat what we always do, but we’ll give Tony some time to look at the menu anyway.” She winked and Elly tried not to chuckle.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She retreated to the computer to ring in her order, then went to the pass-through between the bar and the restaurant. Alex pulled the chit from the machine and Elly watched as she poured the drinks, starting with the pint of Molson’s, the pale lager foaming as it hit the side of the glass. Once that was done, she poured the wine from a bottle she kept stashed in the cooler.

  “First table already?” she asked as she brought the drinks over. “Must be Sharron and Tony. It’s about that time of day.”

  “They are here a lot, aren’t they?” Elly replied, grabbing a tray from the stack and placing the drinks on it.

  “Every Thursday,” Alex said, “like clockwork. But they’re nice. Sometimes they sit in the bar, just to change it up a bit. Tony will have the vegetarian pizza, and she’ll have a Caesar salad with a skewer of prawns.”

  “They don’t ever change?”

  “Not often.” The chit machine b
egan printing out another order. “I’ll talk to you later.” Alex blew her a kiss as she retreated, and Elly pretended to catch it. Then she took the drinks out to Sharron and Tony.

  Derek let her go at ten o’clock, saying that the restaurant was too slow to merit keeping her on longer. He handed her a zipped pouch. “Do your cash-out and bring it to me in the office when you’re done. I’ll check it over and make sure you did it right.”

  Elly took the pouch from him and found herself a quiet spot in the back, away from the organized chaos of the kitchen and the movement of the back-end staff. On a clean page in her notebook, she calculated all her receipts and counted out her cash and credit card and debit slips. She balanced, and there was fifty dollars left over after she calculated the four percent tip-out. Using a couple of paperclips she found in the pouch, she bundled the money with the receipts, and the tip-out separately, and left the fifty dollars in tips aside. Zipping up the pouch, she went up the flight of stairs to Derek’s office.

  He glanced up when she knocked on the open door, then held out his hand. “That was fast.” He unzipped the pouch, pulling out the receipts and money. “Take a seat, this won’t take long.”

  Elly sat on the extra chair, its cushion worn and somewhat stained. It looked like it had once had life in the restaurant but had been taken out when it became too run-down. She watched Derek count, his lips moving, though he made no noise. It took him longer to check her work than it had for her to do it in the first place. But eventually, he finished and nodded.

  “It all works out. Fifty dollars and change in tips, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Derek tucked the pouch into the safe under his desk, then held out a form. “Fill this out for me before you go, and we’ll get you all official. Charity said you did really well tonight, and Sharron talked to me on her way out. She likes you. That’s always a good sign.”

  Elly bent to study the form, taking out her pen. She filled it in quickly, though it took her a moment to remember the full address for her apartment. When she’d finished and signed the bottom, she pushed it back across the desk to him.