Stand nodded in thanks, but pushed his meal aside. He slid too many bills onto the table and left with only his embarrassment intact.
Chapter Eighteen
Grettel’s Growth
At around three o’clock in the afternoon when they had a rare moment of downtime, Blue sat on the counter and opened her Geometry book with less enthusiasm than she’d had that morning.
“Learning anything good?” Baird asked as Grettel left for a bathroom break.
Instead of having the conversation her brother initiated, she started her own. “We don’t have to pretend that I’m coming back after I leave here.” Her eyes stayed focused on the numbers and words in front of her. “I mean, we have to fake it for the girls, but you and I?” She motioned her hand between them. “We don’t have to do this. I’m not naïve.”
Baird swallowed before responding, wishing for one second that someone would lie to him to protect him from the inevitabilities of their harsh life. “Good.” He continued chopping.
“We need a better plan for when I figure out what my next move is. I mean, how do I leave without Master Joe sending out the search party?”
“I don’t know.”
“I mean, I could just run for it. I’d find a way over to the island. I’m not betting on returning, so what does it matter if they send out the warrants?” She shrugged as if they were speaking of table arrangements instead of her death.
Baird shook his head. “I don’t like it. Too public. Too risky. They’ll find out that the money for your plane ticket came from my account. That information’s not exactly private for Waywards. If they execute me or put me in prison, who’ll look after the girls?” He sighed. “You know they’d probably just off me. I don’t exactly have a forgivable face.” He was joking, but there was legitimacy to the offhanded statement.
“True,” she agreed churlishly.
He pretended to be affronted, but the joviality didn’t last.
“I got rid of Stand.”
This was information he’d assumed by the daggers Elle shot at him that afternoon, but it was nice to have it confirmed.
“I don’t think he’ll be back to the diner anytime soon.”
“Were you at least nice to him?” Baird pretended to care, thinking it might absolve him for wanting her to never speak to the Vemreaux ever again.
“No,” she stated simply, not needing to lie for reputation’s sake. “He wouldn’t stay away if I was nice. You wanna know the worst part?”
“Do I ever!”
“He tipped me the price of his meal. He’s a good person.”
“That sucks,” Baird offered in what he hoped was a helpful tone. He could picture Elle grimacing.
At that moment, an interruption came in the form of the back door opening and a bored looking Femreaux strolling into the kitchen. Before Baird could shoo her out and lock the door, she waved him off as the cook Joe sent over to help out.
Gratitude was quickly replaced with confusion.
“Cook? You mean you’re not a waitress?”
“No, honey. I’m not a waitress.” Her crinkled nose suggested that he’d insulted her. “I’m one of the cooks at Little European?” She spoke it as a question to see if anyone had heard of it. “It’s the bistro at 7th and Union Way?” She flipped her blonde locks that were streaked with sporadic pink chunks throughout and sized up the kitchen, unimpressed at what she had to work with. “I’m Stephanie.”
No look of comprehension dawned on Baird or Grettel as they stared at her, still surprised at the predicament. “Hold on a minute. Just let me figure this out.” Baird pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to puzzle out just how a third cook would benefit them with their limited wait staff.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and called Joe, leaving through the back door for privacy. The recorded message came on, and for once, he wished his owner would pick up. “Joe, it’s Baird, sir. Thank you for sending over the cook, but we’re still short a waitress or two. We need more help on the floor, or I can’t see how we’re going to handle all the customers tonight.”
He hung up abruptly before he could start to whine, which was exactly what he felt like doing. When he reentered, he found the blonde Femreaux rearranging the kitchen more to her liking, telling Grettel to move things for her so that she could see how they looked in their new spaces. Grettel’s eyes darted to Baird unhappily as her compliant nature obeyed.
“Grettel, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, holding the back door open for her as she walked outside.
“What are we going to do, Baird? Is Joe sending someone to help Elle and Blue?”
“I don’t know,” he groaned, wishing his brain would hurry up and find a better solution. “Grettel, do you think you can waitress tonight?” His words caused her eyes to widen and panic to hit her features, just as he knew it would. “I would do it myself, but I have to be at the bar making drinks.”
“But Baird, I don’t know. I mean, I’m…I can’t! I don’t know how to be a waitress! You mean I would have to talk to the Vemreaux and bring them their food on those big trays?” Her eyes darted around the parking lot as if a better reason than “this is a bad idea” would come to her. “But what if I drop the tray and the food goes all over? What if Emperor Anders comes into the bar and I spill his drink on him? He could have me killed, Baird! I don’t want to die!” The moisture in her eyes was always so close to the surface. It gathered and spilled out in droplets onto the tops of her pale cheeks.
“Shh.” He tried to calm her through his amusement at her wild exaggerations. Reaching out, he held her head to his chest and patted her hair. Immediately she calmed down and snuggled into the warmth. “The great Emperor Tom Holloway Anders has never been to the bar, but I’ll tell the girls to take the important tables if we get any, okay? You can make more than one trip to the tables when you drop off the food, so the tray won’t be as heavy as you think. The girls’ll show you.”
“But Baird, I…I don’t know how to be a waitress! Some of the Vemreaux are not nice at all! I just want to be in the kitchen with you!” Her tears sprang afresh and dampened his uniform as she squeaked out her fears. Her greatest ambition in life since she’d left The Way was to hide in the background behind the strength of Baird.
“Do you think I’d ask you if there was any other way?” He rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Why won’t that Femreaux do it? Can’t you make her go out there?”
“She’s here to help out Joe, and she won’t waitress. We don’t have another option.” He released her from the hug as soon as it hit fifteen seconds. He wasn’t big into showing affection, but occasionally bent for Grettel in private. “Now let’s go back in and let Blue and Elle run you through everything. It won’t be as bad as you’re thinking.” He tried his best to reassure her, but she only cried more consistently.
“Can I…can I just have a minute out here?” she asked through her condensation.
How any man could say no to her was beyond him. She was so small and unassuming. “Of course, short stuff. I’ll send one of the girls out in a few minutes.”
When Baird went back into the kitchen, Grettel’s tears flowed more freely.
So blinded by emotion was she, that Grettel didn’t even notice the figure approaching until it was standing in front of her. She gasped in surprise at the sight of a gritty-toothed man. She recognized him as the pimp Baird hated so much. She couldn’t recall his name, but she knew that he helped run a nearby Wayward prostitution ring. She’d only seen him in passing, but each time, Baird snarled at him and his practices. His fingernails were crusty, and his teeth were the shade of cheddar cheese.
“Hi, beautiful.”
Grettel did not respond, but merely wiped her tears away. He was the first man to ever call her beautiful, and it felt dirty. She trembled.
He looked down at her welcomingly. “I saw you crying.” He breathed his foul breath in her face. “I don’t like to see pretty girls s
o sad.”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you. You’re a bad man.” Grettel sniffled, not able to look up at him.
“Who told you that I’m a bad man? Is that guy you’re always with your owner? I thought he was A-blood.”
His breath made her blanch, but she braved the unpleasant odor to answer. “Baird’s not Vemreaux. And Joe’s my owner.”
“You look unhappy with them. You have options, you know. You don’t have to stay with someone who makes you so miserable. Is he your boyfriend?” His words fell like smooth silk from the disgusting mouth.
Grettel guffawed and blushed. She did not have options, and Baird was not her boyfriend, nor did he make her miserable. “I don’t have a boyfriend. And I’m not unhappy with Baird. He takes care of us.”
The man reached out and wiped a tear from Grettel’s cheek with his filthy hand, taking in her skittish flinch. “Is this how he takes care of you? He leaves you alone to cry?”
Grettel cringed at the contact, but could not move any further back against the concrete of the wall. She let out a whine of distress.
“I think he doesn’t take very good care of you.”
“I…I…”
His words upset her, and she refused to believe them. Though Grettel’s mind was firmly set against him, her body was too scared to move. Her frightened eyes met his as he lifted his hand to hold her face. “My family’s got room for you if you ever decide that there’s more for you out there than what Baird has to offer.”
No sooner did the words come out of his mouth than the back door to the diner opened, introducing Blue to the unwelcome scene. She froze only for a second, wishing she could thrash the guy herself.
“Baird!” Blue shouted urgently over her shoulder before the black had a chance to creep in on her vision.
Her brother dropped the knife and radish that he held and bolted for his sister immediately. He knew that she would never raise her voice and draw such attention to herself if it was not vital.
The unwelcome man dropped Grettel’s face and held his hands up in surrender. This claim of innocence had no affect on Baird, and upon seeing the pimp, his charging footsteps did not slow.
“Get outta here!” Baird shouted in his deep, commanding voice.
“Just having a conversation,” the man defended himself coolly.
“There’s nothing for you here, so go!” Baird watched every retreating step. He stalked back purposefully, ignoring his sister’s disgruntled stare and glaring at Grettel.
New tears bathed Grettel’s cheeks as she pressed herself to the wall to escape the wrath that she was sure would now be pointed at her.
“What was he doing?” he asked accusatorially.
Grettel sobbed pitifully. “I don’t kn-know! He just came over here after you went inside and started t-talking to me!” Grettel recounted the conversation to the two, and as Baird’s anger subsided, her sobs calmed down to hiccups. “That’s all that happened! I promise!”
Baird sent his sister back inside so he could have a word with Grettel. He moved from standing confrontationally across from the dainty girl to standing beside her. “Do you want to leave, Grettel?” he asked quietly. “Do you want to go with that guy?”
Grettel shook her head quickly, but Baird waited before continuing.
“I wish you could do whatever you wanted, but you can’t leave. Joe bought you, which means you have to stay where he puts you.” He sighed, letting his shoulders lose some of their tension. “Even if it were possible for you to leave without being hunted down, you can’t go because of what you know about Blue. I know it sucks sometimes, but we’re all we’ve got, and we need to stay together.” He kicked at the dirt sadly. “We need you, Grettel. Who’s gonna keep me from going off on Elle when she runs her mouth? The girls need you. Blue only just got you back. You know how many friends she has? Two. Oh, and that George kid, who doesn’t know her secret, and who she’ll never see again.”
Grettel buried her head in her hands.
Baird looked over at her to make sure she’d stopped crying and was actually hearing him. “You can’t go making friends with dangerous people like that guy. He’s a fisher. An A-blood pimp. Do you know what he does with girls like you? He convinces you he’s got something better, but all that happens is he takes you to the commune, then he makes money off of you selling your body to desperate unchanged Vemreaux. You get rescued by the cops? They throw you in jail or off you for running out on your master. Trust me, squirt. You don’t want that life.” The thought made him angry and sick at the same time, twisting his mouth into a bitter expression. It wasn’t just any girl, it was Grettel. His Grettel.
Grettel looked up at him, her chocolate eyes swimming with emotion. “Baird, I would never leave you. Not for that guy or anyone. You keep me safe.”
Baird gave her a small smile, shaking off any unnecessary emotion that threatened to shake his worldview. “And I always will, shorty. Come here.” Baird wrapped one arm around her head, mussing her hair gently. “Let’s go, midget. Today’s the first day of the rest of your life and all that. Your new career as a waitress awaits!” He laughed as she groaned, allowing him to pull her back inside.
By the look on Elle’s face, they both guessed correctly that Blue had filled her in on what transpired outside. “What’s wrong with you?” she sneered. Though the question was directed at Baird, Grettel shrank off to the side. She took off her long white apron to exchange it for a short black one the waitresses wore.
“What?” He went back to cutting the radish he’d left on the island.
“What? Why didn’t you tear his kidneys out and feed ’em to him? He’d take her as soon as look at her, and you know it! He’s a degenerate loser who’ll keep fishing for Wayward girls to add to his collection! Do you think Joe’d be fine with letting that scumbag put his filthy hands on his property like that?”
The Femreaux who’d joined them for the week was trying to ignore them as she studied the recipes before starting out cooking.
“I think it might be time to switch you from Grade A rations to Grade V,” Baird mentioned with a raised eyebrow. “You’re getting a little aggressive.” Baird motioned with the knife for Elle to walk away. He did not want to discuss anything in front of the Femreaux.
Elle looked like she wanted to argue, but surprised him (and herself) by biting her tongue and stalking out of the kitchen.
Blue filled up a glass with a strawberry-flavored O-Negative smoothie, exchanging a silent look with Baird that told him she agreed with Elle. Instead of speaking her feelings, she simply put a straw in the glass and motioned for Grettel to follow.
The small girl obeyed, but she possessed no poker face. Fear contorted Grettel’s features and caused her to loop her fingers together in nervous knots when she followed Blue out into the dining area. She kept her eyes trained on Blue’s shoes, counting the little venture a success if she made it out of the kitchen and back without having a nervous breakdown.
She watched with a lump in her throat as Blue took the table’s order, jotted it down on a pad and dismissed herself from their presence. Grettel was surprised to find that her friend did this all while looking either at her shoes or at her order pad. Blue had a superior memory to anyone Grettel had ever met, but she was relieved that her friend still used the order pad to appear normal, forgetful even. Grettel breathed easier when they moved back into the kitchen.
The Femreaux still had not started cooking at all. Baird looked as if he wanted to use the knife in his hand on something other than the radishes rolling around on the cutting board in front of him.
As sorry as they felt for Grettel, they began to see the long night ahead for Baird, as well. Elle twirled a lock of gold hair in her fingers, as was her custom when she went about plan-making. “One of my tables is mostly older Vemreaux changed in their forties, I’d guess. Grettel, you can take them. I already brought them their drinks. They’ll be a good first table.”
Blue agreed, but Grett
el wasn’t sure that any table would be a good first one for her.
Elle kept prattling on to make her more comfortable. “In my experience, the older they make the change, the nicer they are. Something about their more mature appearance makes them seem, well, more mature.” She cast around for the proper word, but it escaped her. “You’ll do fine, Grettel. Honestly, it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking. I mean, Blue here barely looks up at the customers and still manages. You don’t have to impress them or anything. Just take their orders, bring them out, refresh their drinks. No biggie, right?”
“I don’t know,” Grettel said nervously. She twisted the fabric of her shirt in her fingers.
Elle kissed her forehead and filled up another blood smoothie. “Now, go on out there to table three in my section and say, ‘May I take your order, sirs?’ Write down whatever they say and come back to the kitchen. We’ll watch you from here.” Grettel looked like she might cry again. “Go on, honey. I’ve already told them to be easy on you.”
Swallowing, Grettel double checked that she had everything in her short waitress apron. The black material left her feeling completely exposed as she took her first step obediently forward.
Just then, someone pounded loudly on the back door to the kitchen, causing Grettel to yelp.
Baird wiped his hands off and moved over to open the door. The Vemreaux standing in front of him looked bored and unimpressed as he strolled past the Wayward.
“Joe said I’d make more in tips than I usually do at Olive’s. Is that true?”
Baird grumbled, “You’re late,” but the Vemreaux did not seem to notice.
Grettel spun around to look at the new Vemreaux. “You’re a waiter?” she squeaked. It was the first time she’d initiated a conversation with a stranger of the superior race. The relief on her face and in her voice lit up the room.
“Uh-huh. Tips good here?” he asked, unsure if he was actually going to stay and work.
“Decent,” Elle confirmed, sliding a straw into the drinks she filled. “You’ll pull in over a hundred bills easy by the end of the night.”
The Way Page 18