I served them, day in and day out, the least I could do to pay my uncle back for taking me in, now that mama was so sick.
I needed the money bad, too. Scrimping for bad tips here was better than nothing. I'd need every dime I could get with summer coming up, and no good future in sight.
Homework hadn't been going so well. I'd be lucky to graduate if I couldn't get my grades up.
College wasn't even on the radar. Not that I had any shame.
Walking away with a GED or a high school diploma was a big win in this town, and I'd at least manage that. The rest could wait.
If I could buy time, I'd lock down hope with it.
I'd just turned eighteen a couple weeks ago, after all. Time was on my side, ready to help me kick ass and take names.
There wasn't anything to worry about, except surviving yet another rowdy night, praying the pricks at the table wouldn't stiff me too badly on tips.
I tried not to laugh out loud because I already knew they would.
Half an hour drifted by. Scrambling to keep the tables supplied with cold beer and peanuts, I ran back and forth between the kitchen and diner, wondering why there was such a holdup with the round of burgers.
Uncle Robby was hitting the bottle again, which always meant he made mistakes as the bar's substitute cook. Charlie, our one and only true chef, was out today.
I busted through the double doors and looked around, covering my mouth. The strong scent of burning meat hit me the second I was in, and I looked at the empty grill. My Uncle wasn't manning it anymore because he'd burned himself along with the beef.
I ran over, watching him nursing his hand, swearing up a storm as he halfheartedly ran it under water.
“Here, let me have a look,” I said softly, pushing my way to the small sink. Several puffy red blisters were already rising on his skin.
“Oh, hell!” I let out a whistle and shook my head. “Ouch! Looks bad, Uncle Robby! You should take off and get it looked at.”
“Shit, no, Summer. Can't be taking time away. Who the hell's gonna cook up the orders? I'm the only man here who knows how to make this shit when Charlie ain't here.”
I looked around desperately, anxiety weighing in my stomach. Ugh, I couldn't argue with that.
Lately, I'd been paying more attention to the kitchen. I'd seen Charlie back here making sandwiches. Sometimes, I helped him with the prep work, slicing bread and veggies while he worked the grill.
“Fuck!” Uncle Robby tried to grip the spatula. He instantly dropped it from the pain, letting it clatter into the sink.
“Don't do this to yourself! I can take it from here, Uncle. I've watched you and Charlie cook tons of times! Go get it looked at. Trust me.”
Wincing, he stared at me, his wrinkled face crinkling up before he let out a long sigh. “Okay, dammit. We'll try. Hurts like I picked up a fucking wasp's nest. You know where the meat and all the fixings are?”
I nodded. He hesitated for a minute longer before he finally headed for the door, stopping one more time and looking back at me. I was already pulling apart the frozen patties, ready to start cooking.
“You run into any trouble with the work or the money, you tell Tina, okay? She's in charge 'til I get back.”
“Got it!” I hollered after him, breathing a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut.
I worked like a fiend in the kitchen. In no time, I had half the order ready, only stumbling a little bit when I plunged the fries into oil.
It all smelled heavenly. My stomach growled, and I smiled, glad that I'd finally had a chance to do something right today.
The small victories meant a lot. I couldn't do much to help mama with her bills or the sickness eating her up. I'd never be a grade A student. But, damn, if I couldn't cook like my life depended on it.
I was so busy prepping all the food I didn't hear the heavy double doors open.
“Yo, where the fuck's our eats?” a voice said behind me.
I spun around and came face-to-face with the same bleary eyed idiot who'd grabbed me before. My hands shot up, and motioned to the plates with burgers off to the side.
“Just a few more minutes! I'm sorry about the wait, sir, we're a little short handed.” Calling him anything besides asshole caught in my throat, but a little southern hospitality went a long way toward smoothing things over, especially in crisis situations like this.
“What the fuck?” He looked around. “There's only six plates here. Food's gonna be cold by the time you're done half-assing it! Let me help.”
Help?! He couldn't be serious.
Before I could say anything, he lunged for the frozen patties next to me, haphazardly slapping them on the grill.
“Hey, hey! Stop! You need to go back to your seat. You're not allowed back here. I already told you, it's coming –”