To Catch A Cashier Ch 01

"Hi. What can get for you?" I asked the next customer in my line, with the world's fakest smile plastered on my face. After working 7 hours on my feet, with no break, my patience was wearing thin. I tapped my foot behind the counter, mentally willing the fat ass in front of me to hurry up.

"I think I'll have a combo #2 with a fruit punch."

"Anything else?" I asked, in a tone that implied I would pop him like a balloon if he actually dared to order anything else. He gave me that condescending look I received from all customers who didn't seem to appreciate my attitude. It wasn't my fault. Usually, outside of work, I was a very friendly, sociable person. I was even nice to all of my rude customers when I first started working at that fast food dump. Unfortunately, a year and a half there had taken its toll on me, and I was looking forward to quitting in a few days so I would have time to enjoy my summer vacation. I was graduating from high school in a week, and was determined have a fun, productive summer before I went off to college.

"No, thanks." The man finally responded, rolling his eyes as I gave him his change. As I went to get his drink, I heard the door chime, signaling another customer's arrival.

"Hi, how-," it was him.

My heart raced in my chest I as contemplated my options. It was busy, so I couldn't just run in the back and hide, like usual. My coworker had her own line to deal with, and we were short staffed that day, so I wasn't able to ask anyone to take my place. I quickly concluded that I had no options, and could only try to get through this order as quickly as possible.

I got the previous customer's drink, placed it on the counter, and turned to the man in front of my register.

"It's been awhile, Liz."

I lowered my eyes and tried to keep my voice steady. "What can I get you?"

"Aw, come on," he teased. "You could at least act like you're happy to see me. Customer service is part of your job, right? I would hate to have to make a complaint to your manager..."

That wouldn't do shit, I thought. Our restaurant had to have laziest management on Earth. None of the managers took complaints seriously, from customers or employees. Despite my countless harassment complaints, all they did was politely ask customers to stop.

But still, even though I knew I wouldn't get in trouble, I really didn't want him to complain. The manager would have to make a big show of lecturing me on customer service, and I'd have to make a big show of apologizing to him.

That wasn't going to happen.

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "It's nice to see you again, sir. What would you like?"

"That's better," he laughed. "I'll just have the usual."

"Alright, total's going to be $8.60" As I held my hand out to take his money, he clasped both of his hands around mine, and let his fingers linger a moment before finally letting go. It took every ounce of strength I had to not jump over the counter and punch him in the throat.

"62 cents is your change, order number is 213, your food will be out shortly," I said, careful to place the coins on the counter. "Next customer please!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had taken his usual seat, the one at the booth facing the registers.

An hour passed, and he was still there. He always stayed for a while. Everyone noticed it, too.

"I seriously feel bad for you, Liz." Joked Marie, one of the other cashiers.

"But, it's not like he's bad looking or anything," remarked Anna, one of the cooks.

She was right though, he was actually quite handsome. He was young, if I had to guess I'd say around 24 or 25, with dirty blond hair that was always neatly combed back in a vintage high and tight style. He had large, round bluish-gray eyes, and his jawline was so sharp that it could probably cut through steel. He was always well dressed, too. The first time we met, he was casually dressed in a polo shirt and a pair of khakis. Every other time he came in, it was immediately after work, and the extremely flattering slacks and sports coats suggested a decent paying job. Basically, he looked like a character straight out of Mad Men.

"I'm sick of it, though!" I complained. "Plus, instead of helping me out, all you guys ever do is sit back and laugh! And none of you back me up when the managers yell at me for hiding!" I tried to keep my voice level at a whisper. Our kitchen/drive through area was small, and anyone could easily hear our conversation if they wanted to.

"But you have to admit, Liz, it's a pretty silly thing to get worked up over. Sure, we'd help out if he seriously tried anything, but for now it's pretty funny watching you freak out whenever he shows up" Said Marie. "Anyway, do you mind staying late? I have to get up early tomorrow to take my kid to the doctors."

"Sure," I said, "but you owe me one."

I tried to ignore him staring at me as I saw Marie off. It was standard procedure that we made sure everyone got to their cars safely at night. As I turned to go back to the kitchen area, I shot him a dirty look. He just continued staring.

Usually on weeknights, the drive through isn't that busy, so I passed the time catching up on homework or reading a book. That particular night, I was immersed in a fantasy novel when I heard someone loudly clearing their throat.

I walked over to the register. We always locked the doors at 9 on weeknights, but we never kicked customers out until 11. "What?" I asked, without bothering to sound polite. He was the only customer left, so I wasn't worried about keeping up appearances.

"Just a water," he said. I walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle.

"$1.25."

"Here ya go. Thanks, babe," he said, walking towards the doors. "I'll be seeing you soon. Real soon."

I let out a sigh of relief. I was so happy that he left, that I hadn't put too much thought into that last remark.

As the night went on, I began to think back to the first time I saw him. I had only been working for around 3 months, and was really eager to do my best since it was my first job.

He came in with a group of friends. They were the type of customers I hated the most. The cocky douchebag type that acted like they owned the place. We got those types often, so I was accustomed to dealing with them. They took turns ordering, each of them calling me "sweetie" or "honey" and making it sound as though my only purpose in life was to serve them. By the time it was his turn, I was ready to cuss him out if he tried anything.

"Sorry about my friends," were the first words he said to me. "They had a little too much to drink tonight."

I immediately softened up. I always liked customers who acknowledged that cashiers were just as human as everyone else.

"Oh, it's no problem," I said as sweetly as possible, "I'm used to it."

He smiled and looked at me as though I were a saint. "I'll just take a medium tea," he ordered.

"Okay, total's going to be $1.90."

"Thanks..." he leaned in a bit to get a better look at my nametag, "Elizabeth. Pretty name."

I blushed. "Thanks," I said, passing him his drink, "everyone just calls me Liz."

"Okay, then. I'll see you around, Liz." He said before walking away and taking a seat by his friends.

Even though I thought he was cute, I had dealt with too many flirty customers to bother taking him seriously. I forgot about him the next day.

He showed up again a few days later. This time, he was by himself.

"Hey there, Eliz-," he looked at me, "I mean Liz."

I laughed. "Hi. How are you today?"

"Good, thanks. Had a pretty busy day at work. Figured I'd come by here and blow off some steam. It's tiring, y'know? Dealing with clients and bosses all day."

Oh, no. I thought he's that type. I was never one to mix my business and personal lives, and I always got a little annoyed when customers told me more than I needed or wanted to know. Still, I was generally nice enough to at least feign sympathy.

"Sorry about that. Would you like to try a combo or anything?"

"Sure. What would you recommend?" he inquired.

"Um, well I like the combo #7..."

"Then I'll have that with a tea, please."

"Okay. That'll be $8.60."

"Alright, thanks Liz." I handed him his change, receipt and drink. He began to walk away before stopping and turning around, "by the way, my name's Declan."

I just smiled. Like I care.

Over the next couple of months, things got increasingly awkward. He would come in late, right before closing when we weren't busy. He always ordered the same thing, the combo I recommended, and would continue to talk to me until his food was ready. He told me things about his personal life, and about his job. He began asking me questions that made me feel uncomfortable, like what school I went to, and whether or not I had a boyfriend. I was honest, and simply stated that I was single, but had no interest in being in a relationship. Eventually he would take his food and sit in the same spot, just staring at me. I don't think he ever ate the food he ordered.

Whenever he came in, I began to humor him by simply nodding my head and saying "Uh-huh" or "yeah" instead of actually paying attention to said. Then, one day, he asked for my number.

"I figured we could go out sometime," he reasoned, clearly forgetting the fact that I mentioned I wasn't interested. I was always really awkward with outright rejecting guys, so I panicked and gave him a fake number. "Cool," he said, "I'll see you later."

I remember going home that night wondering if he actually called that number, if it actually belonged to someone. I found myself thinking about what would happen the next time I saw him. What if he was angry? What if he called me out on it? I hated confrontations, so I decided I wouldn't give him the chance.

For months, I managed to avoid him. He always came in around the same time, so I knew when to be on lookout. Whenever I saw him through the window, I made a mad dash for the back area, near the freezers. I usually stayed back there for a half hour, or until one of my coworkers told me he was gone. Some nights, he saw me, and would ask the other cashiers why I was hiding, but he would leave eventually.

That's how things went for a while. I never would have thought to expect him before the dinner rush. The fact that I had to confront him for the first time in a long time made me feel sick.

"LIZ!"

The loud, high pitched voice coming from my head set brought me back to reality. It was my manager.

"What!" I yelled back.

"Come back here and settle your drawer."

I put the code in the computer, grabbed my register, and headed towards the back office to count the money.

"Let me know when you're done with that. I'll put it away and walk you out," said the manager, not bothering to thank me for staying late. There was no way I was going to wait for her. It took her 10 minutes to perform simple tasks that took normal people 2 minutes to complete. I kind of wanted to get some sleep before school.

"Don't worry about it," I said as I signed the summaries and records. "I'll be careful. Have a good night."

I grabbed my purse and headed out. Before I left, I checked my phone. It was 1:30am. I rushed out, eager to get home, and imagined that my mom had already begun to freak out about how late I was out on a school night. I hurried towards the general direction of my car while searching for my keys in my purse.

I sensed a presence coming towards me, but before I could turn around, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist, and a cloth pressed against my mouth. My first instinct was to scream, which I immediately knew was a huge mistake. The cloth remained in place as I attempted to fight and turn to get a look at my attacker. My efforts only made me weaker and moments later, everything went black.