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strands of blonde blow-away hair surrounding her face like those dandelions that were a nuisance in Mariah’s yard, adding to her standard I—can’t-recall-my-name look.
    “Let me help you out,” Mariah said, reaching for Amber’s tray, pulling it from her hands and placing five waters on it.
    “What? No. I’m okay. I’ll just ignore them,” she said, looking down at her arm now and replacing her earlier confused look with a when-did-you-take-my-tray look.
    “No, I insist,” Mariah said, walking away before Amber could say anything more, heading to the table of the five. They were all leaning forward, planning their next attack on the waitress. Must have been some new game.
    “Here you go ladies,” Mariah said, all chipper-like. She watched them look her over. Three of the five weren’t quite sure what to do now with this new black girl with the nose stud, the red, spiky hair, the bruise on her cheek, and the tiny t-shirt that read, in very small print, fuck you and the horse you rode in on .
    “What happened to the other girl?” the pretty brunette asked. Mariah bet she wasn’t the ringleader, but was maybe second in command. The ringleader sat back, her eyes running over Mariah again, evaluation in them.
    “I don’t want water. I didn’t ask for water,” the leader said. The other women just looked on, always eager to watch their leader at work.
    “Okay,” Mariah said, putting the water back on her tray.
    “We don’t water, either,” the other four added.
    “Okay. What would you like?” Mariah asked, all friendly like.
    “I already told the other girl. I’m not repeating myself,” the leader said, her eyes hard and stern on Mariah.
    “Give it to me again?” Mariah said, her voice pleasant as she returned the hard and stern look with one of her own.
    “Don’t think so. We don’t want you. We want her,” the leader said, her finger, shiny red and manicured, pointed toward Amber. “Where is your manager?” the leader asked.
    “Just a second and I’ll go get her for you,” Mariah said, completing a two-point turn any soldier in the military would applaud, and without wasting an ounce of water. She walked away and headed toward the counter. She sat the tray down next to Amber, who was watching with apprehension.
    Mariah removed her apron from her waist, dropped it on the counter, and turned back around, executing the same two-point military precision turn and marched over to the table. She stopped, placed one hand on her hip as she moved it to the right, and snapped her head to the left.
    “What?” she said, as she folded her arms under her chest.
    “We wanted the manager,” the leader said, not as sure as she was when she’d started out.
    Mariah crossed her arms, switched the weight to her other hip, hard. Her head moved to the right. “What?” she said again. What she wouldn’t give for some bubble gum—the smack of it would be a nice addition to her tough girl act.
    “You’re the manager?”
    “Yep,” she said. Not really, but taking on that role at this moment.
    “Uh, we…”
    Mariah leaned in close. “Let me tell you what. You can stay and eat or you can leave, but what you can’t do…is fuck with the help. You feeling me?” she said, eyeing the leader, whose eyes had gone wide and round.
    “You can’t talk to us like that,” the leader replied.
    “You know what? You’re right,” said Mariah, straightening and picking up the menus from in front of each of them.
    “Thank you all for coming. Come back when you’ve picked up a manner or two,” she said, stepping back. They sat there for a minute before Mariah said louder, but not as loud as to be considered a shout, “Now,” which startled them out of the trances they’d all gone into.
    She watched them gather up their bags. The leader, trying to play it cool and maintain some semblance of leadership, took her time, giving Mariah the evil eye. Mariah stood closer to her. She jumped back a little, and they