Page 56 of Pity Play

I give her a little push in response. I may not have a big important career, but I feel confident I can manage to seat people and hand them menus.

As soon as the girl is gone, the fun starts. A boatload of teenagers stroll in, almost like a bus just dropped them off. Oddly, they’re all dressed up like they’re going to a dance.

I check out the calendar lying on the hostess stand and discover that it’s Saturday night. I really have lost track of time. I thought it might be Wednesday or Thursday.

What kind of dance is in early March on a Saturday night? It can’t be homecoming or winter formal. Those have both come and gone. Other dances like black light and old school are generally on Friday nights. That’s when it hits me. The only formal dance in spring is prom. Little lightning bolts of electricity shoot through my nervous system. I’m having supper with Luke on prom night. That must be a good omen.

Speak of the devil, Luke himself comes out of the kitchen. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me picking up menus and seating people. After watching me take four groups to their table, he asks, “Did you get a job here?”

“In your dreams,” I tease him. Then I explain, “The hostess was in a bad way, so I sent her to the bathroom to get ahold of herself.”

“That was nice of you,” he says. “She’s not exactly a ray of sunshine, is she?”

“Teenage girls are not always the nicest, take it from me.” Several more couples come in and Luke and I take turns leading them to their tables.

We meet back at the front of the restaurant at the same time the hostess returns from the bathroom. She doesn’t look much better for her trip. “I’m Lorelai,” I tell her.

“Chloe,” she says quietly before adding, “Thank you for covering for me.”

“I would have thought you’d be going to prom yourself,” I tell her.

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because now she does burst into tears. Turning her back against the dining room, she says, “I wanted to go, but the guy I like didn’t ask me.”

“I’m sorry.” I put my arm around her shoulder and give her a brief side hug. Trying my darndest to avoid Luke’s gaze, I whisper, “The guy I liked didn’t ask me either.”

“How did you spend prom night?” she wants to know.

“I planned a girls’ night with some of my friends who were in the same boat. Do you have any friends who aren’t going?”

“There are a few,” she mumbles.

“What time are you off tonight?”

She affirms she’s off at eight, so I step away from her and ask Luke, “How do you feel about buying dinner for Chloe and her friends? I’ll cover the rest of her shift.”

He cocks one eyebrow. “What aboutourdinner?”

“I’m sure you can wait another hour,” I tell him. “I feel sorry for the poor girl. I’ve been in her shoes.”

A slow smile forms on his face. “If you can wait, then so can I.”

I turn back to Chloe. “Call your friends and have them meet you here. You can celebrate prom night together.”

Luke interjects, “Dinner’s on me.”

Chloe manages to look sad, elated, and worried all at the same time. “What will all these other kids think if we eat out without dates.”

“They’ll probably think you’re having more fun than they are.” Glancing around the dining room, I tell her, “There are a lot of awkward looking couples out there.”

Chloe’s eyes pop open as she gasps, “The guy I like is at table thirteen.”

I turn around and look. “Is he the one with the mohawk or the crutch?”

“Crutch. He hurt himself in the last basketball game.”

Looking at her crush makes me realize why I always liked Luke instead of boys my age. A seventeen-year-old boy and girl are miles apart in maturity. “Go call your friends,” I tell her.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and walks away. Luke leans in and tells me, “That was very nice of you.”

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