Bottom Dollar 2: Homecoming

2| Welcome to Taylor's

Barney's Diner looked the same as always. It was a relief, in a way, to know not everything had changed. But a part of me hated that I'd ended up back here, especially after everything my boss had put me through.

I took in the half-lit up Barney's sign and the dark, empty parking lot. I'd needed to get away from my too-chirpy mother and her new partner, Dave, so I'd hopped into my dinosaur of a truck and found myself back at the beginning.

Friendships, Nate, my father–this was the place where everything had started, and though a lot had changed in the last year or so, Barney's was the one thing that had stayed exactly the same.

Or maybe not. Through the diner doors, I could see an unfamiliar woman waitressing the tables by the window. She was tall and thin, with long strawberry hair scraped back into a pony and a round, innocent face. She couldn't have been any older than seventeen, but there was something about the look in her eyes that made her appear more mature.

Meg, 2.0. I'd figured Roy would replace me sooner or later, but I'd been hoping there'd still be a waitressing job going so I could at least make some money before college.

I slipped into one of the old tattered booths. My best friend, Stacy, wouldn't be here–she'd long since quit Barney's and started at college–but as far as I knew, Lacy would be.

I turned in my seat, spotting her at the end of the diner. It felt strange to see she didn't have her baby bump anymore. She'd given birth while I was in Barcelona, and while we'd kept in touch for the first few months, communication soon fizzled out.

Suddenly, she turned. Our eyes connected, but she made no attempt to move. I smiled a little, hoping it would spark a little bit of life in her, but her expression remained just as flat.

She looked a mess; blonde hair falling out of her bun, eyes red and ringed with dark circles. Motherhood had taken its toll–just as it had with my own mother–but I'd never imagined someone like Lacy could end up so miserable.

"Hey," said a silky voice. "Welcome to Barney's. Can I take your order?"

I pulled my gaze away from Lacy to fix them on the redhead. She was much prettier up close, with large green eyes that took up half of her face.

I briefly glanced at the menu, not taking anything in. "A coffee, please, and a side of French toast. Oh, and a stack of blueberry pancakes." I looked back up to see she wasn't writing any of this down.

"Sure thing," she said, turning on her heel, and I watched as she sauntered into the back.

Finally, Lacy finished up her order and made her way toward me. "Hello," she said curtly. "You're alive, then."

I smiled lightly. "Alive and kicking. How've you been, Lacy? It's been a while."

She stared at me for a long moment. "Yeah, it has."

I cleared my throat before trying again. "How's your son? I'm excited to meet him. I bet he looks just like you."

Lacy's eyes narrowed into perfect little slits. "He's fine. What are you doing here, Meg?"

I played with my napkin. "Oh, you know, I just love that bacon smell that always lingers in the air." She folded her arms, clearly unamused. "I'm looking for a job before I start college in a few months," I said. "I figured I'd come and see if Roy was hiring."

"I'll save you some trouble," she said. "He's not. He just hired two new girls last month. They actually get the orders right, too."

My gaze turned cool. I'd known things wouldn't be the same when I got home, but I hadn't been expecting such a frosty welcome. "An admirable feat. Want to tell me what your problem is, Lacy?"

"My problem?" she echoed. "You are something else, Meg. You really thought you could just waltz back into town after ignoring everybody for a year, didn't you?"

"I didn't ignore everyone for a year," I said. "I called, I messaged–"

"For a few months," Lacy agreed. "Then you got so busy with your amazing new life that you didn't reply to half of the things I sent you."

My expression softened. She was right, of course. Things had gotten hectic in Barcelona, and with the time difference, it had been hard for both of us to keep up a regular conversation.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have tried harder to keep in touch. It's just, after Nate and I–" I swallowed hard before continuing on, "after Nate and I broke up, it was hard to even think of home."

Her eyes softened before hardening again. "I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here, Meg. I blame you for your radio silence. For telling me that you'd help me through motherhood and then not even bothering to check on me. I've been struggling, and I needed you. I just needed a text, or a call, or an everything's going to be okay, but you were unreachable. Gone."

I got to my feet, desperately wanting to pull her into a hug. "Lacy–"

"It doesn't matter," she said, stepping back. "I'm over it, Meg." And then she turned on her heel and walked away.

I didn't feel like sticking around after that. I left the money for my food on the table and drove around for a little while, taking in the rest of Pinewood.

In some ways, it was like I could see it through a fresh pair of eyes. It was small, sure, and there wasn't much to do, but at least it was scenic. Leafy forests, winding roads, steep hilltops–it was easy to drive around and forget about my problems; easy to pretend I was somewhere else entirely.

I passed a new diner not far from Barney's, a quaint little establishment right near the highway that hadn't been around when I'd left. I pulled up outside, taking in the sleek wooden panels and polished Welcome to Taylor's sign; it seemed like Barney's finally had some local competition.

Inside, the diner was just as fancy. The countertops were sleek and wooden, the polished and made from a real black leather. In the corner, an old style juke box played fifties music,

I walked up to the podium, where I was immediately greeted by a friendly waitress. She smiled and told me her name was Carol before asking if I wanted a booth.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm actually looking for a job."

Five minutes later, I was led into a back office and greeted by the mystical Mr. Taylor himself. He sat me down in the chair opposite and hurried to make me a coffee on his state-of-the-art coffee machine.

I took the opportunity to glance around his office. It wasn't a fake, last-minute office like Roy had set up at Barney's. It was the kind of office you'd expect in some fancy solicitor's office. Long, oak desk, electronic pencil sharpener, swiveling leather seats–I'd died and gone to waitressing heaven.

"So," Mr. Taylor said, passing me my coffee. "I heard you're looking for a job."

I tried to focus only on his pale blue eyes. Mr. Taylor looked less like a diner owner and more like someone you'd find on The Bachelor. He was around twenty or so, and tall, with pale blond hair, sparkling blue eyes and a perfectly angled chin.

"I used to be a waitress at Barney's," I explained. "I've been living in Barcelona for the past year, where I also waitressed on the weekends."

He leant forward slightly, looking impressed. "Barcelona's my favorite city," he said. "When I graduated college last year, the first thing I did was visit Montserrat."

I raised an eyebrow. "You seem pretty young to own your own diner."

He looked a little sheepish, and I wished I'd kept my big mouth shut. "My dad's funding the whole thing," he admitted. "If I can make this diner succeed, he'll include me in bigger ventures." He glanced over and shot me a mischievous look. "Don't tell anyone, though."

I smiled in return. "Your secret's safe with me."

He leant back again, turning his pencil over in his hand. "I'd like to start you on a trial period," he said. "Starting tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"

I got to my feet, surprised at how easy that was. "Tomorrow sounds great. Thanks Mr. Taylor."

He shook my hand, his blue eyes carefully studying my face. "Alex," he said, his grip warm and solid. "You can call me Alex."