Smart Mouth Waitress by Dalya Moon Page B

I said. “A big ol' nerdy one. He works for the city, on the pipes. Not the poo pipes, mind you, but the fresh water ones. Not that there's any shame in working sewage treatment, obviously.”
    “Really,” Marc said. “It sure would be cool to pick his brain.”
    “You should come for dinner sometime. Like tomorrow night.”
    “To talk to your dad? That's generous of you, but I couldn't impose.”
    “Are you kidding? He'd love to talk about pipes. He'll show you his special Engineer's ring and everything. He loves that stuff.”
    Somebody at a nearby table whistled for service, then someone else commented loudly on having seen a waitress with coffee pass by a moment ago. I did not like to hear so much whistling during a shift. Even though it's acceptable and part of The Whistle experience to whistle for service, I took pride in anticipating people's needs even before they had them.
    I glanced back, looking for Courtney, but she must have been in the washroom. I didn't want to tear myself away from Marc without completing my task of asking him out.
    Marc checked the time on his phone. “I'm late! I have to run.” He threw down a twenty to cover the bill, along with a business card.
    “Dinner? Yes or no,” I said.
    He pointed to the business card. “Email me your address and tell me what to bring tomorrow.”
    “Will do,” I said as he dashed out the door.
    Someone whistled again and a bunch of people laughed. The crowd was turning on me. I ran around amidst their jeers, refilling coffee cups.
    “You all think you're a clever lot, don't you!” I yelled jokingly.
    Someone tapped his cup on his table, chanting, “Coffee, coffee.”
    I filled it as quickly as I could, but they wouldn't let up with the whistling, enjoying seeing me scramble. One older gentleman gulped down his whole cup and told me I forgot to refill his. Everyone laughed.
    “You pranksters!” I shouted. “Little do you know, I control the stereo, and you're all about to hear James Blunt sing Beautiful . You'll all be laughing out the other side of your mouths while tears are streaming down your cheeks.”
    Dodging past me with a tray of food, Courtney said, “Oh dear, not again.”
    “Oh, yes,” I said. “It's happening.”

    With my poor feet back in some sensible waitress footwear, my pirate boots with the buckles, I finished the shift without further incident, which left me time to ponder two huge problems: was the dinner with Marc actually a date, and what was I going to make? Bonus problems included all the potentially horrifying things my family would do.
    I imagined my brother telling Marc about the time I peed my pants when we were camping because I thought I saw a bear. My father could imbibe in a beer or two then bring up marital problems and all the woes of being wed to a rock star.
    Anything could happen.
    I had a date!

Chapter 10
    Later that Monday night over dinner, I told my father and Garnet we'd be having a special guest the next evening, and asked what they wanted in exchange for good behavior. I didn't have much to bargain with, but I figured it was worth a shot.
    Garnet asked, “Are you trying to get him to touch your boobies?”
    “Not at the dinner table,” I said.
    My father put his face in his hands.
    Garnet said, “My friend Kyle, he pushed the fat on his chest up so we could feel it. We all closed our eyes to see what it would be like to feel a girl's boobs.”
    My father kept his hands over his face and didn't comment on this particular revelation.
    “How'd you like that?” I asked Garnet.
    His expression pensive, he said, “When I closed my eyes, I really tried to pretend it was a girl. It felt like a butt. I don't see what the fuss is about.”
    “You'll feel differently when it's a girl,” I said. “And she'll touch you, too.”
    “I've touched myself plenty. Isn't it just the same?”
    “No,” I said. “Put your finger in your ear and take it out.”
    He did so. Then, I put my finger in his