"Here's your burger with onion rings, sir, and another iced tea. Is there anything else you need?" I asked.
"No thanks, miss, that'll be all," the man said without a glance in my general direction. Asshole.
I nodded and walked back behind the counter of the diner, planting myself behind the fan. In the summer, Mississppi heat gets really old, really fast. Especially when the diner you work at has no air conditioning. Already, I had most of the upper buttons on my uniform undone, revealing the spaghetti strap shirt underneath. Everyone who worked in the stuffy old diner was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I was no exception.
I checked my watch and sighed, then stood to grab my backpack and books. Classes started in an hour and I needed to get going. Just as I was about to make my escape out the back door, Tom, our manager, called my name.
"We've got a couple guys who just came in sitting at table five," he said gruffly. One of them is the son of the owner."
"What, Angie can't get off of her skinny ass and do some work?" I asked scathingly. Or is she too busy sucking your cock in your office? The only reason Angie had kept her meager position was because she was Tom's whore. My remark didn't go over well.
Tom's usual glare just intensified and he let out a short huff. "Just do it," he said as he walked back to his office.
As I dropped by stuff onto the floor by the door and tied an apron around my waist, I silently cursed this awful place and everyone in it. I hated everything about the damn place. The uniforms especially. They were like a flashback to the 50's. The waitress's uniform was a canary yellow dress with a white collar and short cuffed sleeves. For shoes, we had to wear white tennis shoes with no brand visible and a pair of stupid white gloves. My dress was slightly too short for comfort and the gloves were frustratingly tight.
When I walked out from behind the counter, I put on my best fake smile and prepared to speak in a sugar-sweet southern belle voice. People from this part of town were suspicious of strangers, especially Yankees. Immediately, I saw our group of customers. All of them were guys from the college I went to, including the owner's kid, Cody Greene. Sitting at the head of the table next to Cody was Matt Prange, a kid who I went to high school with and who somehow managed to go the same college as me. So much for the southern accent. The rest of the table was made up of a bunch of their cronies.
"Hello and welcome to the Greene Diner. My name is Haleigh and what can I get you all to drink?" I asked politely, nervously shifting my feet. It was hard not to notice the way a couple of the guys were checking me out, especially Matt.
Not that I wasn't flattered, but it was slightly unnerving. Matt flashed me a roguish grin and the increased speed of my heartbeat made me want to sink through the floor. As if he could hear my thoughts, Matt's grin just got wider. I practically jumped when I felt a little moisture pool in my panties. What the hell?
"Hm, I think I'll have a Coors Light," Cody said. "In fact, I think everyone here wants one, right guys?" Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.
