Table 10: Part 1

by Jiffy Kate

  Seeing that it’s only 4:15 in the morning, it’s still dark, and there are hardly any cars out. As I walk, I look up at the city skyline and wonder if Nathan lives in any of those tall buildings. Does he have an apartment? Or maybe he lives in midtown? I guess it’s even possible that he drives in from one of the suburbs. For some reason, he seems like an apartment kind of guy. Luxury. But something manly.

  Suddenly, I’m rudely yanked out of my daydreaming of Nathan. It all happens so fast that I have no idea what to make of it. One second I’m contemplating living spaces and ogling the skyline, and the next I’m lying flat on the sidewalk, staring up at nothing but blackness … and a street light. It takes me a moment for things to register. The pain in the back of my head is not helping the process. As I roll over onto my side, I see the retreating form of a person in a hoodie, running full speed in the opposite direction, with my bag in tow.

  “Shit,” I yell out for lack of a better response. My hand slaps the hard pavement, causing me even more pain.

  I don’t know if I’m more pissed off that someone just took my bag and ran or that I’m lying on the dirty sidewalk and currently experiencing the worst pain in my head since the night I got drunk on Hot Damn.

  “Ow,” I groan, rolling the rest of the way over and pushing myself off the ground.

  After I get my bearings and feel around the back of my head to make sure I’m not bleeding, I realize what a huge inconvenience this is. He stole my bag, which didn’t have much in it—my wallet, maybe like ten bucks, my bus card, my keys. Shit. The keys are the worst thing because one goes to the back door of the diner, and the other is to my apartment, which I’ll have to pay two hundred dollars to have replaced. I learned that one the hard way already.

  Tears spring to my eyes, even though I don’t want them to, and not because my head hurts, even though it does. Frustration and just wanting to catch a damn break. That’s what does it.

  Why couldn’t he have stolen some rich lady’s bag?

  Not that I want anyone to have their stuff stolen, but damn.

  And my library book.

  Shit.

  I groan and turn to continue my way to work.

  Mack is just going to love this.

  Table 10

  “I’ll have cherry,” he says, looking up at me.

  And for a second, I forget my name… and I forget the shit storm this day has been. First being mugged. Then I had a mean customer. Then I spilled a tray with oatmeal. Eww.

  Nathan at table ten is the highlight of my day. Carla’s even here, but I switched with her. There’s a table of businessmen at table two who always leave hefty tips. She didn’t think twice about the trade.

  “I was going to bake you your own to thank you for taking me home last week, but I didn’t have time.”

  A small smile creeps onto his lips. “Wasn’t necessary. It was my pleasure.”

  “Well, it was nice of you, and I already feel like I owe you too much.”

  “You owe me nothing,” he says, his voice harsher. “But …” He pauses, his hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw and making my stomach do that flutter thing it does when he’s around. “Although, I was thinking. If you’re serious about doing me a favor, I have an idea.”

  “Anything—” I say before I even think about what I’m saying—what I’m agreeing to. My heart beats faster, waiting for what he’s going to ask of me.

  “My mom is hosting a fundraiser for a women’s charity. She mentioned yesterday about the bakery she normally uses going out of business. I thought you might be able to help her with her desserts. She would pay you, of course.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I haven’t mentioned it to her yet. I wanted to ask you about it first.”

  “I’d… I mean, yeah. I’d love to. I don’t see what you get out of this, though.”

  His dark, intense eyes lock on mine, then travel down my body. And then back up. “Don’t worry about me,” he says with a smirk.

  The heat in my cheeks follows, and before I make a fool of myself, I turn to walk away. “I’ll be right back with your pie,” I blurt out, not looking back. I can’t, because if he’s still looking at me with those smoldering eyes and those long lashes, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

  After Nathan finishes his pie and coffee, he stops me on my way to another table.

  “You still have my card, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s in my—,” I stop, remembering I no longer have it. It was in my bag that I also no longer have. “No.”

  “Did you lose it?” he asks.

  “No. Someone stole my purse this morning.”

  “What?” The tightness in his jaw and the flare of his nostrils makes me take a step back, the tray I’m still holding almost sliding out of my hands. Nathan stands from the booth and steadies me, keeping the water and juice from hitting the floor.

  He lets out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You walk to work alone? In the dark?” he asks, not looking at me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” I say, letting the word draw out. “The bus takes too long, and no one else is really walking to work at 4:30 in the morning.” The sarcasm is thick, but I can’t help it. He’s kind of pissing me off.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “At four in the morning?” I ask. “Really?”

  He takes out money and slaps it on the table. Then he takes out another crisp white card and puts it in the pocket of my apron. “Call me when you get off work. I’ll be by to pick you up. Don’t walk home.”

  The tone of his voice sends chills up my spine, but not in a bad way… not in a Freddie Krueger kind of way… in a different way, something I’ve never felt before.

  I nod and watch him as he stalks out of the diner.

  The customers who were watching us go back to their meals and conversation, but I’m left standing there with my tray full of drinks, trying to wrap my mind around what’s happening between me and Pie Guy.

  **T10**

  “I’ll see ya tomorrow,” LuAnne says as she heads out the back door.

  “Okay,” I call out. “Be careful.”

  “You too, honey. And call him,” she demands. “If I find out you didn’t, I’ll beat you with a wooden spoon.”

  “Fine,” I tell her, followed by a huff that could rival any teenage girl. I pick up the phone by the cash register and dial the numbers on Nathan’s fancy card. Fast. So, I can’t talk myself out of it.

  “Hendricks Holding. How may I direct your call?” An older, professional sounding woman answers the phone and it catches me off guard. I thought it would be Nathan answering, so it throws me off. But of course, he’d have someone answering his phone for him. He’s … well, he’s Nathan. He’s Mr. CEO, suit and tie.

  And I’m Kadi. Waitress and pie maker. What in the world am I doing calling this man?

  “Hello?” The woman on the other end says.

  “Uh,” I start, but pause again, suddenly feeling nervous and like this is a bad idea. Before I can completely change my mind and hang up, LuAnne’s warning comes back to me, forcing me to continue. “Nathan Hendricks?”

  “Can I tell him who’s calling?”

  “Kadi… Kadance Davis.” Slapping my forehead, I cringe. He doesn’t know my last name. That qualifier isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference.

  “Please hold.”

  A few seconds later, a smooth “Miss Davis” comes from the phone. I swallow hard as Nathan lets my name play on his tongue, trying it out for the first time. His tone isn’t gruff like it was earlier. He actually sounds pleased. Maybe because he’s had a good day or maybe because I did what he asked me to do. I don’t know, but I’m glad. For some reason his happiness makes me happy, and I relax a little.

  “Is it closing time?” he asks.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m finishing up in the kitchen, and then I’ll be ready…” I trail off, not knowing what
else to say.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Back door, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “See you then.”

  The phone goes silent before I get a chance to reply. “See you then,” I say to no one, staring at the phone as I place it back on the base.

  After I put the last of the clean plates away and turn off the lights in the front of the diner, I grab the new key Mack gave. He wasn’t as pissed as I thought he might be, at least not at me. He was fuming about the jerk who stole my bag. After he made a call to his buddy at the police station, he also called and had the locks changed, just in case. I felt bad about the expense and told him he could take it out of my check, but he just grumbled something about it not being my fault and stalked out of the kitchen.

  Suddenly, I remember that I don’t have a key to my apartment. When I called my super this morning, there wasn’t an answer, and he never called me back. Quickly, I search around the register and look through the message pad that’s always there, but there’s no message for me.

  Panic sets in, starting to burn in my chest.

  What am I going to do without a key to my apartment?

  Maybe the super will be able to let me in. I mean, he’s in charge of the place. Surely he has a master key or something. Last time, he gave me such a hard time about it, warned me that it’d be the last time he’d change the fucking lock. God, I hate talking to that jerk. The dread of it all begins to sink in when there’s a loud knock at the back door.

  My heart practically leaps out of my chest, but I know it’s Nathan and I don’t want to make him wait. I quickly turn the rest of the lights off in the kitchen and open the door.

  “How did you know it was me?” Nathan barks. His voice is gruff and his eyebrows are pulled together tightly, making his beautiful face look harder, meaner.

  “I—uh, well … you were the only person it could be.”

  “Ask who it is next time.”

  Grumpy Nathan is back.

  “Ready?” he asks, looking over my shoulder into the dark kitchen.

  “Yep.” I shrug and sigh, feeling weird with nothing to hold on to… no bag.

  After I walk out and close the door behind me, I lock it and put the key in the pocket of my uniform. I can feel Nathan watching me, but I don’t meet his gaze. He seems on edge and I’m not sure what put him there.

  He turns and walks ahead of me, going straight to the passenger side and opening my door. His chivalry is something I don’t expect, but I like it. I’ve never had someone open doors for me. Thanking him, I slide in and put my seatbelt on.

  As I watch him walk around the car, the dread over the key situation is sitting so heavy in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down into the soft leather seat.

  I’m not typically a worrier, but not knowing if I’m going to be able to get into my apartment makes me uneasy. That’s my place. It’s not great. It’s not even good, but it’s the only place I can call mine. Even though it’s a crappy apartment, it’s still my sanctuary.

  “What’s wrong?” Nathan asks, his voice softer.

  I shake my head and look out the window as we begin to pass the tall shiny buildings. The events of the day are finally catching up with me, I think. And for the second time today, I feel like crying.

  “I’m sorry if I was harsh,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel, one capable hand on the gear shift. “I just worry about you. I don’t want anyone or anything to hurt you…” He drifts off for a second as he changes lanes quickly, accelerating to pass a car that’s obviously in his way. As we slow at the stoplight, he looks over at me. “I care about you… what happens to you. I want you safe.”

  I swallow, looking at him, watching him, letting his sincerity sink in.

  No one has ever said that to me. No one. Not my mom nor my dad—the people who should’ve been protective of me. Not my stupid boyfriend in high school. No one. The words cause the tears I was already fighting off to sting my eyes.

  Biting my lip, I look out the window, refusing to cry.

  “Are you scared to go home?” he asks. “Do you think the jerk who stole your bag lives around you? Where exactly did it happen?” His questions come out quick, like he’s been thinking about it. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. I know some people at the precinct. I can call in a favor”

  The last thing I need is one more favor from Nathan.

  “Don’t,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Do you know how many times a day some douchebag steals something?” I snort out a hard laugh. “I’m sure the cops have a lot better things to do with their time than track down some girl’s bag. Besides that, Mack already made me file a report this morning.”

  “Was there anything in there that would lead them back to your apartment?”

  “Just my keys,” I tell him, feeling completely defeated. “And my license. But I doubt that’s what they were after.”

  A low guttural sound makes me glance up, and the look on Nathan’s face is lethal—his jaw is set tight, lips pursed, and eyes squinted. I find it hard to take my eyes off him and my insides are battling on being scared by his anger and turned on by his intensity.

  “Look, guys like that ...” Pausing, I reach over and place my hand on his arm, trying to calm him down and loving the spark of electricity I feel from that simple touch. “They’re usually after money or things they can sell. And let me tell you, they really got jipped. Pushing me to the ground and stealing my bag was more work than it was worth.”

  “He pushed you?” Nathan asks, the words coming out with a snarl, anger lacing his words.

  “I fell.”

  “Motherfucker,” he mutters, doing that thing where he pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “I’m fine. It’s fine,” I tell him, trying to calm him down. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not his problem. It’s mine. He’s done enough for me. He doesn’t need to take on this too.

  “I don’t want to take you home,” he says, idling at the stoplight a few blocks from my apartment. “It’s not safe.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not fine,” he retorts.

  We’re both turned in our seats, facing off, neither of us backing down. I have to wonder who is more stubborn, because I have a feeling we could both give the other a run for their money.

  “Did you have new keys made?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer truthfully, because what’s the point of lying? “I’m hoping my super has a master key.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “I tried earlier, but he never answered.”

  “So,” Nathan starts, cocking his head and obviously trying to keep his cool but failing. “Had I not asked, you weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

  “Why would I? It’s not your problem.”

  Deep breaths.

  Both of us.

  Frustration and tension fill the small space between us, along with something else I can’t quite put my finger on, but it has my body humming.

  “I’m making it my problem.”

  We sit there for a minute. The possessive tone in his voice takes me aback and I stare at him, wondering, not for the first time, why me? Why is he going to so much trouble for a girl like me? I’m a nobody from a small town, who came to the big city to make something happen and failed. I work at a diner and live in a crappy apartment. What does he see in me?

  There are no cars behind us, so Nathan waits through another light and I wonder what he’s thinking, but am too afraid to ask. Not afraid of him, just afraid of the answer. This is all new territory for me. I’ve been in a couple relationships in my life, but not recently, and not with someone like Nathan Hendricks. And no one has ever been this protective of me before. So, even though the possessiveness is a bit nerve-wracking, the fact that he cares makes me feel… good.

  I feel good and safe when I’m with Nathan. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt. With him, there’s a level of lust and desire I never knew existe
d. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him. And that scares me. It scares me way more than the possessiveness of the brooding, handsome man sitting across from me.

  “If I hadn’t said something, and the super wasn’t home, where would you have gone?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  That’s a very good question. One I don’t have an answer for. “I don’t know,” I reply truthfully, biting my thumbnail out of nervous habit and turning to look out the window to avoid his stare.

  He lets out a frustrated growl, pressing his head into the seat and then rubbing his hands over his face. And I’m worried that he’s annoyed with not just this situation, but with me—annoyed with the fact that he’s stuck with figuring this out for me. I don’t want that. I don’t want him to be stuck with me out of obligation, because he’s one of the most stand-up guys I’ve ever met. I won’t take advantage of his kindness.

  “Look, Nathan, this is very nice of you… Everything you’ve done for me is really nice. I still don’t know how I’m going to repay you, but I will,” I tell him, determination firing up inside me. The need to let him off the hook outweighs the need to be with him. “Don’t feel like you have to fix things for me. I’m a big girl who’s made it this far on her own. I’m sure I’ll figure a way out of this one.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “You can. I’ll be fine.”

  He accelerates, and instead of driving forward, he makes a sharp U-turn in the middle of the street, and the engine revs loudly as we drive back the way we came from.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, holding on tight as he speeds down the street, much faster than earlier.

  “I need to know you’re safe.”

  “Okay...” I don’t know what that means. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

  Maybe he’s taking me back to the diner? That’s not the worst idea. Mack probably wouldn’t care if I crashed there for the night.

  “You’re coming home with me tonight.”

  His answer causes my heart to stop and then begin to hammer in my chest. My face heats up, and all coherent thought leaves my mind.