Chapter Text
Summer opened and spun around Scarlet like a ballerina in a porcelain music box — timely, rigid, delicate, something she constantly found herself swept up in — before it closed again, only to open once more when the sands were hot, the ocean tender, the boardwalk crowded with families and tipsy college students, and she was once again zipping between packed tables.
She pulled a couple of ones out from under a sweaty Miller Lite bottle, trying not to look displeased at a two-dollar tip on a thirty-six-dollar bill. Especially considering the family she’d been serving had been less than pleasant: the spoiled child, the disinterested mother, and the father who’d been staring at her tits every time she’d visited the table. She crumpled the ones and stuffed them in her apron before gathering cups and flatware.
Across the way, a group of girls crowded around a table, stealing chairs from nearby tables to fit everyone under the sun-faded yellow umbrella. They’d caught her eye, pulling Scarlet away from brushing Coca Cola soaked french fries into a bin, mainly with all the chairs scraping against the concrete and one of them swearing as she finally situated herself at the table, only for her phone to fall through the table slats. Mainly, that noise caught her attention. That was, of course, before the woman next to her, all glistening and bright in a stark white bikini top, let out such a course, raucous laugh, holding Scarlet’s attention like she wished that woman would hold her hand. Firmly, unequivocally, like it was only hers.
And then she looked over at Scarlet, met her gaze, and Scarlet swore she smiled at her before looking back down at her hands, fiddling, fidgeting, before her blonde friend threw a menu at her from across the table.
She could have sworn it was a smile. That was, of course, unless Scarlet was deluding herself, which she apparently had a tendency to do. There was something about summer here — the whirling breeze, the ocean air thick in her lungs — that made her feel like every pretty girl was some sun-struck romance waiting to unfurl.
She also could have sworn she’d already wiped up the ketchup smiley face that little brat had left for her on the table, which his parents didn’t feel was their job to wipe up. But feeling her elbow dip into the ketchup, she realized she was wrong before and could be wrong again. She grabbed a napkin to wipe off her elbow, watching as A’keria delivered fruity mixed drinks and a round of shots to that table, losing track of how much time she’d spent cleaning herself off.
As A’keria folded her tray under her arm and walked off, the noise and shared laughter from that table swelling, Scarlet got an idea. She stole one more glance over at the woman, who threw a wicked smile toward the girl next to her before raising her glass to toast.
“To the end of the semester, not failing shit, and finally getting some damn sleep!”
“And cheers to getting that security deposit back,” the girl next to her added, raising her cocktail. “That landlord scum ain’t getting any more of our money.”
Another girl chimed in, “I ain’t cuttin’ no checks, Mary.”
The woman, who, with every word, Scarlet felt herself becoming hopelessly enamored with, added with a laugh, “To the end of capitalism!”
“To the end of capitalism!” They all clinked glasses before throwing back the shots, eyes wide from the burning liquor.
Feeling a small smile pull across her lips, Scarlet cleared the table quickly, swiping the baskets and beer bottles into her bin haphazardly. She wiped down the table before heading to the back, where she hoped A’keria would still be.
And she was, throwing her tray down on the bar haphazardly before asking for another soda to fill her styrofoam cup. Scarlet came up behind her, gently resting her hand on her arm, trying not to startle A’keria, but her bubbly demeanor gave her away.
“Scarlet,” A’keria drew out, banging her straw against the bar top until it opened. She retrieved the straw from the paper with her teeth.
“So… whatcha drinkin’?” Scarlet began nonchalantly, reaching over to pick up A’keria’s tray and a cloth to wipe it off.
A’keria turned and observed for a moment, nodding as though she were confirming her findings.
“I smell a scheme, Scarlet.”
“What?” Scarlet pushed A’keria’s tray back toward her. “Why would I be scheming? That’s crazy. I never scheme.”
A’keria looked her up and down in disbelief, surely noticing the quirk of a smile spread across Scarlet’s lips, the pleading eyes. She supposed she never was too good at hiding feelings.
“I smell it.” A’keria punctuated every word, poking Scarlet’s arm.
“Oh, that’s just ketchup. It’s like, all over me.” She laughed faintly, weakly.
A’keria tilted her head.
Damnit, she was good.
“Okay, so there’s a girl I really like over at your table—”
“No,” A’keria replied flatly, stirring her soda. Scarlet felt herself fizzle.
“I just really want to talk to her,” Scarlet pleaded. “Please, please, please just give me table four. I’ll make it up to you.”
A’keria paused to sip her soda, though still making time to roll her eyes at Scarlet. “So you’re telling me you want my table of nice girls, who are drunk enough to give me their full, Christian names upon meeting me, who are definitely gonna order three mixed drinks each, probably another round of shots, some food to share, and then leave me a thirty-three percent tip because that’s what nice drunk girls do?” She stared into Scarlet. “You think I’m gonna give you that table?”
Scarlet swallowed. “Did the one in the white bikini top, with the braids in a bun give you her name?”
“You’re getting off topic, Scarlet. And no. We got Silky, Nina, Brooke Lynn, and something so slurred I couldn’t make it out, but your girl wasn’t talking, she was just staring off somewhere, like a deer in the headlights or something.”
Your girl. It had a gilded ring to it.
Scarlet nodded, wondering if it was conceited to imagine she hadn’t given her name because she was still stuck on the look they exchanged. Scarlet warmed at the thought.
“But I really like her, A’keria.”
“You always do.” A’keria sighed, placing her soda behind the bar. “Come on, we gotta get back to the floor.”
“Wait.” Scarlet grabbed her arm loosely, forcing A’keria to meet her gaze. “I’ll switch a table with you. I’ll give you my table of trust fund Chads. Please, Ki, please,” Scarlet pleaded.
A’keria softened, considering this for a moment.
“They already ordered a pitcher each and just put in food, and they’re definitely gonna drink more. And they talk like they’re rich.”
A’keria let out a chuckle. “How does someone talk like they’re rich?”
“They talk like they hate me and want to fuck me at the same time,” Scarlet deadpanned.
A full laugh this time. “You’re too much. Also, gross.” A’keria rounded the end of the bar.
“Half the tips from those girls!” Scarlet called after her, causing A’keria to stop in her tracks. “The table of Chads and half my tips.”
A’keria quirked a brow. “Really?”
“I just want to talk to her.”
She nodded before continuing to walk out to the outdoor seating, Scarlet’s heart weighted, sinking through her stomach and legs, straight through the waxed floor. She followed A’keria out.
But A’keria turned, wordlessly heading toward Scarlet’s section, collecting an empty beer pitcher from her table, turning to bring it back to the bar. She came up to Scarlet, who stood still in disbelief.
“You’re welcome,” A’keria said with a cutting sincerity.
Scarlet pulled her into a hug, holding her close as she tried to squirm out, holding the beer pitcher out with a straight arm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“If you don’t get her, it ain’t on me.”
Scarlet nodded, releasing A’keria and accepting her blessing. “You’re the best.”
“Correct.”
Scarlet surveyed the table, the emptied drinks and shot glasses, the menus folded neatly, the rowdy din that she could still hear feet away, though now the pounding of her heart felt far louder.
She smoothed down her apron. She wished she didn’t smell like ketchup. She steeled herself and walked toward the table.
“How are we doing everybody? I’m Scarlet and I’ll be filling in for A’keria from now on.” She glanced around the table, trying to catch the gaze of the girl without seeming too suspicious. “Y’all are on vacation? Who all do we got here?”
Not suspicious of course, Scarlet reasoned. Simply trying to reason that it was good customer service to get to know them. And also, she wanted to know that girl’s name. For good customer service and also romantic reasons.
The small Latina girl to her right answered, taking Scarlet aback with her gruff voice and hand gestures thrown about. “I’m Vanjie, and that’s Brooke Lynn,” she pointed at the blonde next to her, who had her arm lazily hanging over the back of her chair, fingers draped over Vanjie’s shoulder. “Then we got Nina, and Silk, and then Yvie.”
Yvie. Scarlet let it settle in her mind, burrow deeply, let the name root itself there. Yvie. Even in Vanjie’s rough tone it sounded gentle, the sounds spun together like lace trim. Decadent. Exquisite. Yvie.
She snapped herself out of her pondering, hoping she hadn’t drawn any stares while she twirled Yvie around in her mind.
“Awesome! Well I’m Scarlet—”
“Yep, we got that,” Brooke Lynn added, Yvie joining in with a twinkling little chuckle.
God she was so stupid, forgetting something she’d just said moments ago, sure she was going to analyze and reanalyze Yvie’s chuckle at her. She’d analyze for at least twenty minutes, maybe more.
“So, uh,” Scarlet stumbled, fishing around for her pen. “Are we ready to put in some food? Or maybe some more drinks?”
“Another round of Patron!”
“Silk, no,” Nina warned
Brooke nodded. “I’m not going to drink that.”
Silky folded her arms playfully. “Fine then just me, Vanj, and Yvie, since y’all clearly aren’t looking to have fun.”
“I’m personally looking to have a very un-fun time so…” Yvie smirked, her words potently sarcastic. “No, I’m not having another either.”
Scarlet nodded, deciding to play along with the group’s dynamic, trying to recover herself from forgetting she already said her own damn name. “So, what I’m hearing is two shots, two party poopers, and one… well I don’t know what to do with you,” Scarlet trailed off, tinging the end with a light laugh directed toward Yvie.
“More like two idiots and three people who care about, like, not melting our livers with that battery acid.” Nina laughed, stirring the melting ice in her drink.
“Yeah, imagine like a gross liquified organ where your liver should be like it’s just sloshing toxic soup inside you,” Yvie continued, pointing at Silky. “That’s what your tequila does to people. It gives you the soup liver.”
Scarlet tried to hold back a laugh as the rest of the girls grimaced. “Ugh, imagine it’s broccoli cheddar, but inside a bread bowl, but inside of you.” She lowered her voice once she saw no one else react. “But yeah no soup liver, uh, Yvie.”
She said it thoughtlessly, but tentatively, as though she didn’t have permission to say her name. But it did feel wonderful to say out loud; it felt wonderfully spoken from her mouth. And it was wonderful to feel Yvie’s eyes on her once more.
“So, any other drinks or food?”
Scarlet jotted down some mixed drinks and a couple plates of appetizers, just as A’keria predicted — though she wouldn’t tell her; A’keria already knew she was always right — and headed to the back to put the order in, hearing Vanjie begin a rant about why the fuck seaweed exists and who allowed it to touch her foot. Prickling, red warmth spread through Scarlet’s chest as she heard that same laugh from Yvie. She’d like to hear that laugh as many times as possible, for sure.
When she came back with their next round of drinks, she noticed the table quieted as she approached, and remained silent as she placed the plastic cups down silently. And Yvie, she sat with her hands folded, chewing her lip, looking up at Scarlet, then looking down again, then stealing another look, like she wasn’t supposed to be looking, like it was really something she had to steal.
She laid out four straws on the table before realizing her miscount, handing one to Yvie directly, holding her gaze for only a second too long before Vanjie cleared her throat, causing Scarlet to release the straw. The straw fell through the slats and onto the ground. She scrambled to pull another out of her apron.
“Here, here’s a new one.” She placed it firmly on the table.
“So, Miss Scarlet,” Vanjie began. “What do you do around here?”
“Well…” Scarlet pondered, crouching down to pick up the straw, using the opportunity to ponder what exactly she did around here before coming back up. “I just, you know, work here and serve you food and stuff. And I like the beach, of course, so…” She shrugged, finding herself on uneven footing trying to answer that question. Really, she didn’t know what she did around here.
“Like, when you’re not doing this,” Silky elaborated, pointing her glass at Scarlet.
She could talk about school, Scarlet reasoned, shifting her weight onto her hip. That was some way for her to approach the subject of what she does when she’s not at work, getting yelled at by frat bros or being underpaid.
“I go to school for advertising design, and I’m in my last year, so that’s really fun, and also, like, terrifying, because like, what am I gonna do next, you know? I don’t know how I’m gonna turn making flyers for Wednesday Wing Explosion Night into a career, but a girl’s gotta try.” Scarlet feigned a laugh, knowing she was doing a poor job at poking fun at the sheer horror of adult life with an adult job, or really, figuring out adult life and having an adult job.
Yvie perked up, setting her drink back on the table, a smile spreading across her lips. “That’s really awesome. What do you use to make them?”
“Oh, just like, Illustrator, Photoshop. And I have to photograph the wings with our shitty point-and-shoot camera from like, 2004.” Scarlet fiddled with her hair. “So, it’s like a whole process just to get one picture of the wings looking edible.”
“Oh, I had to use that shit for my digital class.” Yvie rolled her eyes. “Photoshop is a little bitch.”
“That’s not true!” Scarlet acted as though she were scandalized. “You just have to treat her nice and she’ll work for you, I promise.”
“Yvie’s just pressed because she almost failed that class.” Brooke pointed out.
Vanjie nodded and took a long sip of her drink. “So pressed, like a panini.”
Yvie opened her mouth to respond but ended up just shaking her head. “It’s just hard.”
“For you,” Scarlet teased back, earning some light laughter from the table.
“So, Scarlet, you got a boyfriend?” Vanjie shifted her gaze to Yvie. “Or a girlfriend?”
“Vanj,” Brooke warned.
“No, no it’s totally fine.” She stole a glance at Yvie. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Of course, Scarlet wished she did, if for nothing but a little bit of joy in her day, someone to enjoy, who enjoyed her, or even someone to indulge in the intoxicating mix of saltwater breeze, sweat-struck kisses, and being in love. She pushed it aside, as she knew she should.
“I’m going to go check on your food,” Scarlet said abruptly, walking away from the table, sure she heard her name tossed around as she left. Or maybe she only hoped she did. She couldn’t trust her senses, especially when she had the image of Yvie looking up at her with those gorgeous wide eyes and flush lips clouding her thoughts.
She delivered their food quickly, normally, trying not to seem as distracted as she knew she was. And then she picked up the empty plates and cups, carefully balancing them on her tray. And then Nina had asked for the check, so Scarlet tried to seem like she wasn’t disappointed when she brought it out and collected the check presenter.
She studied the receipt as she rang them up. There was a hefty tip, written in tight, neat numbers, which she promised she’d share with A’keria. She took her time swiping the card, drawing out the transaction as long as possible, pulling the customer copy of the receipt out slowly. She clicked her pen a few times.
Fuck it.
She scribbled her phone number and a little smiley face at the bottom, placed the receipt and the credit card in the check presenter and folded it quickly, like she couldn’t bear to look at the receipt any longer.
The regret mounted as she placed it in front of Yvie, wishing them all a wonderful time here before scurrying off to the back of house. She couldn’t bear to see them open it and read her receipt, read her number, react to her including it, react to her imposing herself. And even worse, she couldn’t bear to see it laying on the table, rejected.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out, letting it sit in her hands, face down.
It was probably nothing of course. Maybe just a Twitter notification. Maybe her roommate asking another question about where the bag of bags was kept. She let out a shaking breath and looked at her screen.
An unknown number.
A text.
Hi Scarlet xx
***