Bottom Dollar 2: Homecoming

4| Business as usual

The dinosaur was on its last legs. It pained me to see it, because somewhere along the line, that car had become like a family member to me. I'd spent so long saving up for it that it killed me to think it would soon amount to nothing more than a bit of scrap metal. 

I pottered around the house for a while, contemplating what to do next. I didn't have enough money to try and get it fixed, nor did I have anywhere near enough money to buy a new one completely. In Barcelona, getting around had been relatively easy. There were buses, underground stations, trains, but getting around in a town like Pinewood almost certainly required a car. 

"Nate still works at the auto shop part-time," my mother said at breakfast. "Why don't you take your car to him?"

I stared back blankly. Not just because I wasn't used to my mother giving me such motherly advice, but because her advice was bordering insane. "Mom, I am not taking my car to my ex-boyfriend."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because we're broken up!"

"That doesn't mean you can't still be friends," she said. "I mean, look at me and your father."

It was true that the pair had grown closer since my father had gotten out of prison, but their dysfunctional, newfound friendship wasn't exactly something I aspired to have with Nate.

"Look," I said, taking a bite of my apple, "I can't go running to Nate every time I have a problem." I was perfectly capable of getting by before we met; I could certainly cope now that we were broken up. 

"Well, what about the motorcyle in the garage?" she said.

I froze mid-bite. I'd forgotten all about the motorcyle Nate had fixed up for me. We'd gone riding a few times before I'd left for Barcelona, but since then, I hadn't touched it.  

After breakfast, I headed into the garage and switched on the light, waiting for it to flicker to life. In the corner was the outline of my bike, hidden by a large white sheet. At least, it used to be white. It had been packed away for so long that dust had begun to settle on the material, turning it a palish gray.

I yanked off the sheet, revealing the sleek, black motorcyle that sat underneath. Nate and I had spent a good portion of last summer working on it together; we'd lay on a blanket outside of my house and work on the bike while intermittently kissing in between.

The six months before I'd left for Barcelona had been the best six months of my life.

I ran my fingers along the smooth, shiny metal. As beautifiul as it was, this bike came with a lot of painful memories I was trying to suppress. Still, if I wanted to make it to work on time,  I was going to need a vehicle. 

I pulled on my helmet and kicked up my bike stand, tearing down the residential streets. I'd always loved the feeling of being on a bike. Free, effortless, like I could take off at any moment. It wasn't just the wind in my hair or the rush in my lungs; it was the sheer possibility of freedom.

I got to Taylor's twenty minutes early, still wanting to make a good impression. Alex was already there out back, helping Carol to get set up. It was clear he really cared about his diner, unlike Roy, and I admired him for it. It wasn't easy stepping out of your comfort zone to try something new, and despite the fact we'd hardly had any customers turn up, he refused to give up. 

Some country song I'd never heard of was blasting through the speakers. Both Alex and Carol had brooms in their hands, which they were using as microphones to sing along. I watched them for a minute, both amused and horrified by their out of tune voices, before I finally cleared my throat.

They both whipped around, stuffing the brooms behind their backs before looking somewhat sheepish. 

"Hey, Meg," Alex said, flashing me a boyish grin. "You're early." 

"Figured I'd help set up," I said. "I didn't realize we were having an improptu concert."

Alex laughed before looking at Carol. "See, this is why I stick to singing in the shower."  

I grabbed a wash cloth and began wiping down tables before refilling salt shakers. Everything felt so much more relaxed here at Taylor's, and I didn't have to constantly worry about running into Roy.

The only thing stopping this place from being great was the fact that I no longer had Stacy and Lacy working with me. Not that it would have been the same, anyway. I hadn't talked to Stacy in months, and Lacy seemed to hate my guts.

This was going to be a long, friendless summer before college. 

"Ready to open?" Alex asked.

When Carol and I nodded, he flicked around the closed sign until it read open and then we all stood and waited. 

Our first customer arrived two hours later. He pulled up outside in one of those big trucks and was clearly another pit-stopper. He came to the podium, demanding to be seated by the window so that he could keep an eye on his truck. I obliged and went through our daily specials while he scrolled through alerts on his phones. As rude as it was, I'd take old men looking at their phone over old men looking at my cleavage any day. 

He ordered several things: a coffee, the full breakfast and a glass of orange juice. I gave him an award-winning smile before relaying the order to our chef, Angie, before I went into the kitchen and filled up the coffee pot. 

"Two hours and only one customer," Angie said from her cooking station. "This place'll be going bust before the end of the month."

I poured the coffee with a feeling of dread. As much as I didn't want to admit it, she was probably right.

A/N

Hey readers, hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

Sorry for updating so much, I've just had a little bit of time recently and went on a writing spree. Plus, I can't control myself so have to release a chapter as soon as I write it 😭