Page 16 of Pity Play

My history here is the reason I never wanted to work at Pop’s as an adult. I interpreted my disinterest as thinking I had nointerest in the restaurant business. But the truth is, I didn’t want to churn out the same stuff day after day without change. Yet in retrospect, Pop’s was the perfect start to becoming a world-class chef. In order to discover new flavor combinations, you have to be proficient in the basics.

My dad likes things to stay the same, but that’s not who I am. Hopefully, I’ll finally be able to get him to see that.

CHAPTER NINE

LORELAI

The dinner rush at Pop’s is legendary, which is why Allie and I are meeting at five o’clock. It should pretty much just be us and whatever early bird seniors show up, which in Elk Lake could be a lot.

I changed into a pair of black pants and a fuzzy pink sweater before leaving the house. If I run into Luke, I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also want to make a nicer impression than I did the last two times he saw me today. The jeans and flannel were cute, but that nightgown sealed the deal that he’ll never look at me with romantic interest.

Walking into the diner, I’m hit by a combination of delicious aromas. Seriously, if they could bottle this smell, people everywhere would stand in line for a month to buy it. No one can resist the sultry scent of french fries and beer batter, with underlying notes of hot fudge and toasted nuts. I preemptively wipe the corner of my mouth in case any slobber has escaped.

The girl standing by the hostess station looks at me with great disinterest. “Only one?”

“No,” I tell her proudly. It’s not like I don’t ever eat by myself,but her tone suggests that’s what she thinks. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“Uh-huh.” She picks up two menus and tries to sit me at a small table near the kitchen door. While I want to be close to Luke, if he’s here, I’ll have a better chance of seeing him from a more distant vantage point.

Gesturing toward the empty dining room, I tell her, “I would prefer to sit by the window.”

She rolls her eyes and slows her speech like she’s speaking to a foreign person with little grasp of the English language. “Those. Are. For. Four. People.” Then she flashes the requisite number of fingers in case I didn’t understand.

I look at her name tag before letting my tone state my displeasure. “There’s no one in the restaurant,Chloe. I guarantee you that my friend and I will be gone before you need our table.” I’m not generally nasty to people, but this girl is a real piece of work.

Her eyes narrow petulantly as she turns and walks in the direction I indicated. Then she slams the menus down. “Make sure of it,” she says before walking back to the hostess stand.

I’ve got to wonder why Luke’s dad hired a girl like that. There must be a hundred more pleasant teens looking for a job. For instance, when I was Chloe’s age, I would have killed to have had a job at Pop’s.

Sitting down, I flip over the menu until I find the thing I’ve been craving—a sirloin burger with sautéed mushrooms, onions, and swiss cheese. Yum!

A server about my age appears. The smile on her face more than makes up for the snotty hostess. “Hey, hon, can I get you a drink to start?” she asks.

“Two lemon drops, please. Straight up.”

“You want that with sugar on the rim?”

“Absolutely.” As she walks away, I warn myself to only have one drink. I’m not a big indulger of hard alcohol and I want to keep my wits about me in case Luke shows up.

I spot Allie as soon as she walks through the front door andimmediately gesture for her to join me. The hostess doesn’t even bother looking up from her cell phone. As my friend approaches, I notice that she has also changed clothes. “You look so cute!” I tell her while standing up and giving her a hug. She’s wearing a red dress with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt.

When she pulls back, she does a small pirouette and declares, “I like dressing up. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn any of my nicer clothes.”

As soon as she takes her coat off and sits down, our server arrives with our drinks. Lifting my glass to my friend, I announce, “To us!”

Allie lifts her glass in return. “To finding the lives we were meant to have.”

After we each take a small sip of our decadent cocktails, I decide this is the perfect entrée to what I want to talk to Allie about. “What life do you think you were meant to have?”

She seems caught off guard. Tipping her ear toward her shoulder like she’s in deep thought, she finally says, “I guess I don’t really know anymore.”

“Are you happy?” I ask.

“There have been moments when I thought I was, but they didn’t last.”

After taking a substantial swig, I tell her, “Allie, you’re skittish when it comes to talking about your ex-husband, so I haven’t asked a lot of questions. I think it’s time you tell me what happened.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly. “I don’t like talking about Brett.”

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