Page 28 of Hawke

“You may smile on the outside, but on the inside, you are anything but,” he said smugly, shoving a piece of food in his mouth.

Who the heck was this guy?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Delilah,” I said. I reached for his hand. His mustache twitched, and he reached his hand out as well.

“I’m Bram, Bram Talbot.”

I held back a snicker.This dude thought he was James Bond.

He let out another laugh, wiping off his face again with a napkin. He shook his head, trying to contain his laughter.

Great, I got a crazy one.The heck is he laughing at now?

“And Mr. Talbot, what are you getting at here? You don’t know me.”

“You are running,” he murmured.

My stomach dropped, and my fingers gripped the tray, but I smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He hummed, wiping his mouth one more time and pulling a few bills from his wallet to pay for his meal. It was more than enough, because he left almost fifty dollars in tip.

“I’ve been around these parts for a while. It’s hard to get a job here, yet somehow the manager seemed to take you in without question. Now why do you think that is?”

My lips parted, my mind racing. What could it mean?

My past wasn’t coming to get me was it? Did someone know me? I didn’t hide my name; I didn’t want to take the last bit of my identity and throw it away.

“Some awesome luck. Maybe it was destiny?” I shrugged, trying not to show agitation.

He gazed at me intently, his finger tapping the white tablecloth. “It was nice chatting with you, Delilah. I’m looking forward to our new friendship.”

Woah, woah, woah.

We stood up from the table and heard the scrape of our chairs against the wooden floor as we both left the table. “Who are you? How do you know about me, Mr. Talbot? Why are you being so nice to me?”

A wave of unease settled inside me, the stress from years ago resurfacing. Did he know who I was? Did he know about the Iron Fang? Either way, it wasn’t good, because I didn’t need anyone bringing up the lives I no longer lived.

“Please, Delilah, call me Bram,” he replied. “Nothing to stress over. I’m just happy to be served by a waitress that doesn’t take my shit.” He winked, his green eye peering over his shoulder. He took his jean coat and pulled it over his plaid shirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he left me with more questions than answers.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jolted away with a squeak. Simon widened his eyes in apology. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

The sudden sympathy from the manager caught me off guard, but I shrugged it off as just nerves. Bram was intimidating, not by size but by some other powerful aura he exuded.

I nodded, clearing my throat. As I looked at my watch, I realized it was time for my shift to be over. “Yes, fine, is it alright if I go?” I hooked my thumb to the door.

“Of course, uh…” Simon rubbed his cheek with his hand and stuck it in his pocket. “Did he, uh, give you a name?”

“You don’t know his name?” I asked incredulously.

“He always pays in cash. And the few times he’s been in, I’ve forgotten. It would be quite rude of me if I asked his name again now, wouldn’t it?” he said condescendingly, rubbing his head.

I opened my mouth to tell him the name but then my mind drew a blank. “I don’t remember either.” I rubbed my forehead. “He told me, I just…don’t remember.”

How do I forget a name? I never forget a name or face! Nor a favorite food or drink.

Simon pursed his lips and nodded. “Right, well, let me know next time he comes in. He’s strange, but he tips well. If he plans on coming in more often, then I’ll be sure you’re his server.”

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