Read Sounds Like Crazy for Free Online Page B
Authors: Shana Mahaffey
Walter and Robbie nodded and said, “I’ve heard enough.”
Enough what? I didn’t know what this was about, but whatever it was, Betty Jane wanted it. Badly. She was never this nice to any customer.
Robbie,Walter, and the third guy sat quietly at their table. Betty Jane stood watching, still holding the plate of potato pancakes. I sat frozen on the Committee’s floor as anxiety and indecision did the tango in my stomach while confusion watched from the side.
“Well,” said the woman, obviously dismissing me.
Shit. No indecision now. “Betty Jane,” I said, “what are you doing?”
“Nothing.” She ceded control. My knees buckled. I dove forward to catch my body just before it went down. When I felt the ground under my feet, I bolted through the kitchen toward the back exit.
“Yur stackin’ up orders here.Where da hell ya goin’?” yelled the exasperated cook.
“I need a cigarette.”
“Fuggedaboutit.” He handed me food for another table.
Luna, the only other waitress working that morning, walked in and said, “Holly, your friend and that other guy want to order.”
Betty Jane blindsided me again. My head smacked on the Committee’s coffee table. I rubbed the swelling bump and watched as the plates of food dropped from my hands and crashed to the floor.
“Watch it!” screamed the cook.
“Oh, my,” exclaimed Betty Jane from my mouth. Then she turned my body, leaving the dishes where they’d fallen.
“The dishes?” I cried.
“Do you mind?” Betty Jane said sweetly to a busboy. “I have so many tables.”
“What the hell is wrong with her?” I asked Ruffles. She waved me off and turned her attention back to Betty Jane and the trio of men.
“And this is Mike Davey, the director for Walter’s new animated television show called The Neighborhood ,” said Robbie.
Betty Jane smiled as Robbie handed her some sheets of paper that looked like a script from a play. He nodded and she read a few lines. He read the response and then it went back to Betty Jane.
“Oh,” I said with more relief than I felt.“They’ve been doing this for weeks. Nothing to be alarmed over.”
Ruffles shook her head. Instinct told me she was right, something was up, but I didn’t have it in me to fight Betty Jane. I decided ignoring her might carry more impact, so I picked up her discarded copy of Vogue and started paging through it.
“Holly,” said Luna. I looked up from my reading. Betty Jane didn’t even recognize her presence. “You’d better take care of your other tables and orders, or you’re going to be fired.”
I stood up and tried to move forward to take control. Betty Jane held on tighter than a barnacle to a ship’s hull. Guilt over not trusting Ruffles when she said Betty Jane was up to no good spread from my abdomen up into my throat. I remained standing, waiting for any opening.
“I get the part as Violet and Robbie gets his money?”
Part? Money? “What is she talking about?” I asked Ruffles.
“In a minute,” said Ruffles. “Now shush.”
“Not so fast,” said Walter. “You might have a great voice—might—but the question can you use it behind a microphone? Can you act?”
I paused. I didn’t know what he meant about a microphone, but this guy had no idea how well I could act.
“Why don’t we get her some training and see how she does?” said Mike Davey.
“That sounds like a plan. Set it up.And, Little Waitress . . .” He looked at me. Betty Jane flashed a twenty-four-tooth smile at the insult. I’d have returned a face shot through with repugnance. “Just remember, Walt’s World only has stars.” He dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and stood up.
“Give Robbie your contact details and someone will get back to you about classes and so forth,” said Mike.
Walt tapped his watch and said, “Let’s go.” He nodded at me and Mike waved. Robbie high-fived Betty Jane and followed them out the door.
I turned to Ruffles.“What did I
Enough what? I didn’t know what this was about, but whatever it was, Betty Jane wanted it. Badly. She was never this nice to any customer.
Robbie,Walter, and the third guy sat quietly at their table. Betty Jane stood watching, still holding the plate of potato pancakes. I sat frozen on the Committee’s floor as anxiety and indecision did the tango in my stomach while confusion watched from the side.
“Well,” said the woman, obviously dismissing me.
Shit. No indecision now. “Betty Jane,” I said, “what are you doing?”
“Nothing.” She ceded control. My knees buckled. I dove forward to catch my body just before it went down. When I felt the ground under my feet, I bolted through the kitchen toward the back exit.
“Yur stackin’ up orders here.Where da hell ya goin’?” yelled the exasperated cook.
“I need a cigarette.”
“Fuggedaboutit.” He handed me food for another table.
Luna, the only other waitress working that morning, walked in and said, “Holly, your friend and that other guy want to order.”
Betty Jane blindsided me again. My head smacked on the Committee’s coffee table. I rubbed the swelling bump and watched as the plates of food dropped from my hands and crashed to the floor.
“Watch it!” screamed the cook.
“Oh, my,” exclaimed Betty Jane from my mouth. Then she turned my body, leaving the dishes where they’d fallen.
“The dishes?” I cried.
“Do you mind?” Betty Jane said sweetly to a busboy. “I have so many tables.”
“What the hell is wrong with her?” I asked Ruffles. She waved me off and turned her attention back to Betty Jane and the trio of men.
“And this is Mike Davey, the director for Walter’s new animated television show called The Neighborhood ,” said Robbie.
Betty Jane smiled as Robbie handed her some sheets of paper that looked like a script from a play. He nodded and she read a few lines. He read the response and then it went back to Betty Jane.
“Oh,” I said with more relief than I felt.“They’ve been doing this for weeks. Nothing to be alarmed over.”
Ruffles shook her head. Instinct told me she was right, something was up, but I didn’t have it in me to fight Betty Jane. I decided ignoring her might carry more impact, so I picked up her discarded copy of Vogue and started paging through it.
“Holly,” said Luna. I looked up from my reading. Betty Jane didn’t even recognize her presence. “You’d better take care of your other tables and orders, or you’re going to be fired.”
I stood up and tried to move forward to take control. Betty Jane held on tighter than a barnacle to a ship’s hull. Guilt over not trusting Ruffles when she said Betty Jane was up to no good spread from my abdomen up into my throat. I remained standing, waiting for any opening.
“I get the part as Violet and Robbie gets his money?”
Part? Money? “What is she talking about?” I asked Ruffles.
“In a minute,” said Ruffles. “Now shush.”
“Not so fast,” said Walter. “You might have a great voice—might—but the question can you use it behind a microphone? Can you act?”
I paused. I didn’t know what he meant about a microphone, but this guy had no idea how well I could act.
“Why don’t we get her some training and see how she does?” said Mike Davey.
“That sounds like a plan. Set it up.And, Little Waitress . . .” He looked at me. Betty Jane flashed a twenty-four-tooth smile at the insult. I’d have returned a face shot through with repugnance. “Just remember, Walt’s World only has stars.” He dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and stood up.
“Give Robbie your contact details and someone will get back to you about classes and so forth,” said Mike.
Walt tapped his watch and said, “Let’s go.” He nodded at me and Mike waved. Robbie high-fived Betty Jane and followed them out the door.
I turned to Ruffles.“What did I