Progress (The Progress Series)

by Queau, Amy

  Paulina and Angie were sisters and definitely the most hospitable and friendly to customers and new employees. Charlie grew up across the street from Paulina and Angie, and they had spent some time together in the summers having sleepovers and playing video games. But Charlie’s fear of being publicly ridiculed kept her indoors and away from joining activities like her friends did. And that became a cycle. The sisters became her idealized version of life. Everything seemed so much easier for them – they were smoother, happier, and were able to discard nasty words and not let things ruin their day like Charlie would. As they grew older, they didn’t have much in common to talk about, so eventually they didn’t interact much at all. Charlie stayed home with more solitary pursuits: fine arts, movies, and crosswords.

  *

  Work was much busier on her next scheduled shift. The kitchen was a disaster and the dishwasher had called in sick. One of the prep cooks had quit -- eliminating four menu items for the afternoon -- and the manager, Karalee, arrived late, leaving Charlie to do much more work than nine dollars an hour was worth. But it kept her on her toes and made her day fly.

  “Thank you so much. You saved us today,” Karalee said, practically bowing to Charlie once the lunch rush was over.

  “No problem! I like keeping busy,” Charlie said, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow.

  “Hey Angie, you can go home now,” said Karalee, walking past and throwing her arm up to give Angie a high five.

  “Thanks girl!” Angie said on her way to the front. “Ugh, finally! I wish all our hostesses worked like you do,” Angie said to Charlie while rolling her eyes.

  “Well, it might have something to do with the fact that you guys only hire fifteen-year-olds.” Charlie laughed.

  “Yeah. Lawrence is an ass. He only hires the ones that pique his…curiosity during the interview, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve noticed. I feel like I’m babysitting toddler beauty queens on Friday and Saturday nights,” Charlie said.

  “That’s nothing! Have you seen Delivery? I don’t know what’s worse, babysitting infant hostesses or babysitting canned-whipped-cream-huffing delivery drivers. We went through four cases of whipped cream last month! I saw how much we made in desserts; it certainly didn’t justify that much whipped cream.”

  “Seriously? Is that why the servers can never get any whipped cream out of the cans?” Charlie’s mouth hung open.

  Angie nodded. “Back in the walk-in cooler between deliveries. I’ve busted the guys two times already.”

  Here was her chance. Charlie looked around the dining room to make sure he was nowhere near. She hadn’t seen him all morning.

  “Well, what about that Jesse guy? He seems a little bit older. Does he do it too?”

  Angie shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it, but I don’t exactly know who all does it. Older doesn’t necessarily mean more responsible. He’s kind of a loner. The only thing I know about him is that he’s into mountain biking or something like that.” Angie waved her hand, dismissing the conversation.

  “Hmmm...” escaped Charlie’s lips.

  Angie recognized Charlie’s expression and sighed, her eyes serious.

  “Get it out of your head, Charlie. He’s bad news,” Angie warned.

  “Get what out of my head?” Charlie tried to sound innocent.

  “I know that look. And I don’t blame you, but I don’t trust him. You’ve seen the way he hits on the underage hostesses! That’s just…wrong and gross.”

  Before Charlie could retort, the bartender called Angie back into the bar. “Hey Ang – eight-oh-two needs their tab!”

  “See you tonight?” Angie shouted over her shoulder on her way back.

  “Yeah, I’m on a double.”

  “I mean it – don’t give him another thought!”

  *

  That evening was even busier. Still no dishwasher, but management was able to prep the food to put the four missing items back on the menu. They took one of the hostesses from the front and brought her to the dishwashing station, leaving Charlie to manage the front of the house alone.

  “Hey Charlie,” Adam, the manager-on-duty, said with an oily grin. His lips lingered on the syllables of her name a little too long, giving her an instant stomach ache. Avoiding eye contact, she attempted to lift her mouth into a warm smile as he started eliminating servers and bussers from the seating chart.

  Stealing glances at her, he finally turned. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Oh, gross. Why is he asking me? “Nothing.”

  Just as Adam was about to respond, the front doors swung open, making Charlie and Adam jolt to attention.

  Holy shit. Under the dim track lighting in the entrance, Jesse looked like a god. Casual, solid build, with baggy jeans on; and his face looked like he had spent some time in the sun that afternoon. His blonde hair contrasting with his perfect tan, he flashed a wide grin the second he saw Charlie. From behind his glowing form, she appeared. Throwing his arm around Christy, it looked like a date.

  Charlie’s heart rate increased and she found herself holding her breath. This guy has got to be a figment of my imagination. Men like him don’t really exist.

  Jesse leaned against the counter and started tracing the flyer coupons on the front desk with his thumb, staring at Charlie while his date took a trip to the restroom. Glancing at Adam, Jesse nodded in the direction of the kitchen, giving Adam a clear message to leave. His jaw flexed as he walked to the back.

  What just happened? Oh my god. What is happening here?

  Charlie couldn’t look away, but she couldn’t speak. Jesse looked like he was trying to work up courage to say something to her. Maybe he’s just trying not to throw up. He reeks of whiskey.

  “Hey.” He looked down.

  Keeping her hands behind her to hide her trembling, she nodded. “Hello. May I help you with something…Jesse, is it?”

  He smiled, answering her question. “What’s your name?”

  Swallowing, she replied. “Charlie.”

  “Charlene?” Her full name rolled off his tongue as he glanced at her name tag, his eyes traveling over her body.

  What the…?

  “That’s me.” She played coy, looking away and trying not to act interested in where the conversation was headed.

  “Am I bothering you?” he asked, shocked.

  She was instantly turned off by his brashness. “Sort of.” Her tone was harsher than she had intended. “It’s a little busy here. If you wanted to make yourself useful, you could put on your uniform and help bus some tables. But, I think your little date would be mad. So, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’ve got some things to do in the kitchen,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  A smile played on his lips, wavering in confusion. He faintly shook his head and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Have a drink with me.” He paused shortly, waiting for her to speak.

  What the hell is going on here? Is this a joke? Am I dreaming? Guys like him don’t…

  “Tomorrow, I mean, just one coworker to another. Just a friendly drink…” he said, when she didn’t respond right away.

  She took a deep breath and looked at him with much speculation.

  “Okay…” she finally responded.

  “Did you order our food?” Christy asked, walking back from the restrooms and interrupting the conversation.

  “Oh, sorry, I forgot. I was just chatting with Charlie here. Ah, could we get a large Hawaiian pizza, to go?” he said, wrapping his arm around Christy again.

  Charlie shook her head and laughed in disbelief. “Sure. That will be up in fifteen minutes. You’ll have to sit in the lobby though. The bar doesn’t allow anyone under eighteen.” With a tight smile, Charlie turned on her heel and headed back toward the kitchen.

  She didn’t see the wide grin on Jesse’s face on her way to the back.

  Chapter Three

  After her shift the next night, Charlie was overwhelmed with
excitement to spend time with Jesse. A sexy, mysterious man wanted to have a beer with her. Never once had a man asked her to join him for a drink. She had avoided anything remotely dramatic and exciting her entire life, and although she knew it wasn’t a date, it felt good to be desired on some level – even if it was just platonic.

  She waited in the booth for what seemed like hours, though it wasn’t much more than thirty minutes. Then she saw him. He was dressed in baggy black jeans that hung off his sculpted hips in a way that instantly made her shiver. A plain white, button-up short-sleeved shirt once again accentuated his tanned physique, but she couldn’t take her eyes off those hips. He doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him. What am I doing here? He was much more physically in shape than she could ever dream to be. His pectoral muscles were implied underneath his white shirt, and every time he moved his arms she could see everything lightly flex. Completing his check-out, Christy was giggling and flirting, but he didn’t seem to care about the seventeen-year-old temptress that had been his date the night before.

  Regret instantly filled the hollow of Charlie’s stomach. Why would he want to spend time with someone like me? There was no way Charlie could make sense out of a man like him being interested in a woman like her. He could get anyone he wanted; he was beautiful, edgy and sexy. I’m fat and mildly attractive at best.

  “You’re nothing, Charlie Johnson. Nothing. You’re a waste of a human being. A huge, worthless, disgusting human being. Why don’t you try a salad?”

  That’s where it all started with Aaron Paulson. The first words he ever uttered to me. Seventh grade, in the hallway on my way to art class. And I can remember how he followed up his words by throwing himself against the lockers in an exaggerated attempt to allow my fat ass to get by. The laughter and mimicking of others in the hall certainly didn’t help matters. Everyone that had been there to witness it continued the same torment for months – backing up in the hallway so that I could pass, comfortably.

  How thoughtful of them.

  *

  Jesse mumbled while walking towards Charlie’s booth in the bar. Nodding his head, he gave her a weak smile for a fraction of a second. Looking up, she was torn from her flashback.

  “Do you have any smokes?” he asked.

  “Yeah, are Marlboro Mediums okay?”

  “Let’s go have one,” he said while gesturing towards the patio.

  He opened the door and she followed. The patio was empty as it wasn’t open for business yet, and still two weeks before its grand opening party.

  He grabbed the pack from her when she offered. Lighting his cigarette with a Zippo he pulled from the pocket of his jeans, his shirt had shifted slightly, exposing his blonde navel and a glimpse of his toned abdomen. Her heart flickered and her insides grew warm.

  When he offered to light her cigarette, it was as if someone had offered to open a car door for her or ordered the most expensive wine on the menu. She was shocked, not knowing how to take the kind gesture; but she graciously accepted.

  A crooked smile escaped his thoughts.

  “So, how old are you?” he said, sounding forced.

  “You’re not supposed to ask a lady that. But I’m twenty-three. How old are you?” she asked, snickering at their exchange.

  “Older than you,” he barked. His smile was gone, replaced with rigidity.

  A long and uncomfortable moment lapsed.

  “So, what’s your story, Jesse?”

  “My story?”

  “Did I stutter?” Okay, this is getting stranger and stranger by the second. How awkward can two people be?

  Another smile played on his lips before he answered. “I’m adopted,” he spat out, appearing as if it was a confession. Sounding unsure, he lowered his voice and continued. “Well, I lived with my foster family. They took me in when I was fifteen, and ended up adopting me after a couple of years. I have one brother and one sister--” he cut himself off and his face was suddenly serious, his eyes stony.

  Well at least we’re getting somewhere now. Sort of. “What brings you to The Crimson Cellar? Have you always worked in restaurants?” she asked, feeling compelled to continue the conversation.

  “Yeah, I mean I’ve always worked in these kinds of jobs. Mostly delivery.” After glancing at her briefly, he shrugged. “I figure a trained monkey could do your job. At least mine involves driving a vehicle.”

  What! What a…

  “Dick! Trained monkeys can drive vehicles too; very smart, highly skilled and dexterous monkeys. And I’ll have you know that my job isn’t that easy.” He’s the strangest, most frustrating person I’ve ever carried a conversation with. What’s wrong with him?

  Her sour expression softened when a large smile covered his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, Red. Let’s go drink.” He flicked his cigarette into the darkness and held the door for a split second while she grabbed it.

  “Did you just call me Red?” she asked.

  His only response was a smile.

  Ah, my auburn hair. Got it.

  They plopped back into their seats and after the waitress dropped off his beer, Jesse immediately picked it up and drank almost half in one gulp. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with his thumb and index finger, his hands rough and un-manicured. Okay, he needs to stop touching his mouth so I can think about why I’m still sitting here and haven’t left this disaster of an evening. This friendship obviously isn’t going to work.

  He took something out of his pocket and began fumbling with his chin. A labret. Could he get any sexier? Damn him.

  She swallowed. “Girlfriend?” she squeaked, wincing at her tone.

  Did I really just ask him if he had a girlfriend?

  “Nope,” he murmured, just before taking another swig.

  “Boyfriend?” she asked and raised one eyebrow, trying to make light of the previous question.

  He rolled his eyes. “No boyfriends either, Charlie. I don’t really date. What about you?”

  She hesitated before answering. How do I answer this one without sounding like a fool?

  “I guess I don’t really seem to date too much either…” Not wanting to divulge the fact that she had never been on a date before. Never had a boyfriend. Didn’t trust men.

  “Why?” he asked.

  She slouched in her seat. “Oh, well I just do other things. I mean, like hobbies.” I’m pretty sure no one has ever sounded more pathetic than me right now. Ever.

  “Oh, so no one wants to date you. Got it.” He nodded, wetting his lips to hide a grin. “And those other things have you convinced you’re happy, huh? Well, good for you.” His eyes were amused with sarcastic delight.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, twisting her necklace and fidgeting.

  In an attempt to keep the rest of the conversation as shallow as possible, Charlie continued to ask leisurely questions in order to avoid bringing out his offensive nature. Assuming it was just her own insecurities, she continued with the rest of the evening in the hope that the uncomfortable impression of their initial conversation had passed.

  “Did you go to college?” he asked while his eyes fluttered between her face and her breasts.

  “Yeah. Nothing exciting, though. Just business college.” Trying to get the conversation away from her days in school, she quickly changed the subject.

  “When is your birthday?” she asked suddenly.

  “November seventeenth,” he replied as he cocked his head to the side.

  “Do you have any hobbies, things you do for fun?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged.

  “And…”

  His forehead creased and he let a laugh escape. “Um, I guess I like chess. I play the drums. Ah, um…I ride my bike. Is that good, or do you need to know more?” He scratched his head as his knee bounced under the table.

  Oh no. It’s getting weird again.

  “If you could have lunch with any three people in history, who would you choose?”

  “Where are these coming from?
They’re ridiculous. Are you getting them from some generic book of questions? Why do you want to know all of this useless information?” he asked and ran his hands through his hair in distress. Aggravated, he looked up at her as he exhaled and said, “I have to go.”

  She nodded and said, “Oh, yeah, me too,” unable to refrain from allowing an agonizing look of disappointment cross her face. This was horrible. I just want to go home now and try to forget this night ever existed.

  He downed the rest of his beer and set the mug on the table. “Um…bye,” he mumbled awkwardly as he walked toward the door.

  She gave him a half smile as she stood to gather her things.

  Moping, she walked to her car. Was I asking the wrong questions? I know I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing, but that was off-the-charts unnatural. How embarrassing. Her hand covered her forehead as she played the conversation over in her head. By the time she got to her car, she hadn’t noticed he was sitting on her trunk.

  “Oh hey.” She jumped. “You scared me a little…” she said, grasping at her chest while taking a step backward.

  He sighed. Catching his top lip in his teeth, he rolled his eyes. “I don’t like people much,” he said, lighting the cigarette he had stashed behind his ear.

  “It’s fine, Jesse. You don’t need to explain to me why you needed to leave. But, I’m sorry if I offended you in some way. I just--”

  “Stop. That’s not what I meant.” He exhaled sharply and looked like he was trying to find words, but failed. Grunting, he waved both arms up in defeat as he turned and started towards his car.

  “Hey Jess?”

  He stopped without turning around.

  Stop it, Charlie. Right now. Just go home and end this. This just wasn’t meant to be. You’re just torturing yourself.

  “You wanna go someplace with me right now?” she asked. Idiot. I’m such an idiot.