Page 32 of Domino
“You remembered my name. I’m flattered.”
“I had to, simply because I flat out refuse to call you by that other, way more ridiculous name,” she grumbles. “So, what do you want?”
“Well, how about the country fried steak, two eggs over easy, hash browns extra crispy, sourdough toast with grape jelly, coffee black, and a tall orange juice,” I say.
She looks at me, irritation etched into her face. “Seriously?”
“You didn’t write that down. Do you want me to repeat it?”
“You have to go.”
“Not until I have breakfast. I’m really famished.”
Ashley throws her hands up in the air and walks away, still grousing to herself as she pushes the kitchen doors open harder than necessary and disappears beyond them. She comes back a moment later and sets my coffee and orange juice down in front of me, giving me a blank, dead-eyed stare.
“You know this is never going to happen, right?” she asks.
“What?”
“You and me. Not. Going. To. Happen.”
I flash her a sly smile. “Never say never. Never’s a long time, as they say.”
“Never. Not ever.”
I shrug. “One never knows what the future holds.”
“In this instance, I do. So, here’s what’s going to happen—”
“Oh, do tell, I’m fascinated. What’s going to happen?”
She brushes off my interruption with a mere flash of annoyance in her eyes, then clears her throat before fixing me with a stare that’s hostile. I can tell it’s taking some effort on her part to maintain it, though. My gut feeling is that she’s more annoyed with herself for being amused by me, and nearly letting herself give in to my charms, than she’s annoyed with me. But that’s just my gut feeling. Could be my ego, I’m not entirely sure. The only thing I do know for certain is that she’s nowhere near as annoyed with me as she’s making herself out to be.
“What’s going to happen is that I’m going to bring you your breakfast. You’re going to eat it. You’re going to pay your bill. Then, you’re going to leave and never come back in here while I’m working. And you are going to leave me alone. Period.”
I pull a face as I look at her. “I see a couple flaws with your plan. First, how will I know when you’re here, so that I can avoid you? Unless you give me your schedule every week. And second, you didn’t say anything about leaving you a tip. And when your instructions are so specific, I’m left to wonder if you don’t want me to tip you? Or if you think it’s simply implied. This leaves me in a real moral quandary.”
“You are impossible.”
“Not really. I’m merely very difficult.”
Ashley rolls her eyes and turns away, but not before I see the smile creasing her lips. She pushes through the kitchen doors again and disappears from view. Taking a drink of my coffee, I sit back in the booth and notice an older woman with a near-beehive of white hair atop her head glaring at me, a sour expression on her face. I give her my best, most charming smile and raise my mug to her. She grimaces, looking like she just bit into a lemon and turns to the older man with her, whispering something to him. He looks back at me and just laughs, seeming to wave her off.
A couple of minutes later, Ashley comes back out and drops my breakfast off in front of me.
“Will there be anything else?” she says, her voice monotone.
“How about your phone number?”
“Never going to happen.”
“How about you have dinner with me?”
“Never going to happen.”
“You’re a tough nut to crack.”
“You’re assuming I can be cracked.”
