to that. “Umm . . . well . . . I’ll just go put this stuff away then, and I’ll see you at two. What should I wear?”
“Jeans and a t-shirt will be fine. Nothing too fancy. It’ll just get stained and ruined.”
“Right. See you then.” He headed out the restaurant door.
* * *
About 9 o’clock that evening, James was up to his eyeballs in dirty dishes when the door to the restaurant banged open and he heard the laughing voices of Stuart and Laurel. He peered out of the kitchen and watched Stu amble over to a table James had just finished wiping off.
“No, hey Stu, this one’s already clean and the condiments stocked for the night. Let’s sit on the deck and not mess anything up this close to closing time.” She headed toward the screen door leading out back.
“Spoken like a real waitress,” Stu joked.
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be spoiled brats like you,” she teased.
James was grateful. His back ached between his shoulder blades from carrying plastic bus tubs of dirty dishes to and fro, and he certainly didn’t need Stuart to give him any extra work. He wasn’t a wuss; he was in good shape for track and long-distance running, but he was starting to realize that there wasn’t a lot of upper body strength needed for intramural cross-country. He wished that last couple would finish their coffee and chocolate pie so he could get out of there.
Back in the kitchen, he sprayed down the second-to-last load of dirty dishes for the night. Laurel appeared through the swinging door and fished out two glasses, stepping over to the soda fountain and drawing off two Cokes.
“Hey, Jim Dandy, how’d it go tonight?” Her cheerful expression irked him a bit.
“Fine.”
“It gets easier in a few days. Pretty soon, your shoulders won’t be so sore.”
“Hmmph.”
Her lips pursed in amusement, she turned around, bumping the door open with her hip.
James continued cleaning and stocking under the directions barked out by Phil, the shift manager. He peeked out into the dining room. No Laurel, no Stu, and — this was a bonus — no coffee-drinking couple either. Darlene the waitress was counting out the cash register, and Mr. Elliot had appeared out of nowhere to divide the tips at one of the tables near the back. Laurel came back in and kissed her dad on the cheek. He received her affection with a smile and without looking up from his task.
“Daddy, Stuart and I are going up to The Loft for a bit, okay?”
“Home by midnight, Punkin. Your mother will have a fit if you’re out too late.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re still under our roof, you know, even if you are almost off to college.”
“Yes, Dad.” She took a sip of her coke and turned to see James carrying his bus tub to the last messy table. She met him there.
“Want some help with these?”
He shrugged.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, as she stacked plates and cups.
“Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”
“Oh.” She picked up a fork. “Stu and I are going up to The Loft for a bit.”
“Yeah, I heard. What’s The Loft?”
“Just a local place to hang out — pool tables, a jukebox. There’s live music sometimes too. Wanna come?”
He was slightly annoyed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m working here.”
“I meant when you’re done. You should be finished by about 10:30 or so. Come on; say you’ll come. We can catch up and rehash the splendid days of our youth.” She looked at him hopefully, nodding as she took another sip from her straw.
He caved in an instant. “Well, okay. Where is it?”
She led him by the arm to the window. “Just up the ramp and then take that first left. It’s a gravel road, not too far though — maybe a quarter mile. The locals take turns playing music sometimes. A few of them are pretty good.” Her smile was inviting, and he was just about to return it when the screen door to the deck slammed shut, making them both jump.
“Hey, ready to go?” Stuart walked up and set his glass in James’s bus tub.
“Sure,” Laurel replied. “I think I talked James into stopping by after work.”
“Great.” He turned and headed for the door. “See you there.”
They departed, and James was left feeling a little envious. He would like to escort pretty girls around the marina and up to the local music joint too, but he had to work for a living. Then he felt guilty. The