Teaser Tuesday - Going Under (Excerpt 1)

Today begins "Teaser Tuesdays" where I'll post a short excerpt from the book each week until release day. Enjoy!

(Gretchen visits Brooke during work)

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I approached Gretchen.

“What do people normally do in restaurants?” she replied.

I smirked and grabbed the pen from behind my ear.

“I told you I would call you when I got home,” I said, flipping to a clean sheet on my order pad.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t wait that long,” Gretchen confessed.

“I’m busy tonight, Gretchen. I can’t hang around and chat,” I said. I glanced at my other tables. No refills needed. No one looking to get my attention. Good so far.

“I know, Brooke. I’ll hang out until the crowd dies down.”

“You’re gonna hang out at one of my tables all night?” I asked. “You better leave me one hell of a tip. I’m trying to make money here.”

“Relax,” Gretchen said. “Do your job well, and I’ll take care of you.” She winked, and I scowled.

“Hilarious. Really,” I muttered. “What do you want?”

“This salad thing and a Diet Coke,” she answered, pointing to the menu.

“Fine,” and I made my way to the order station. I punched in Gretchen’s order, then went to pour her a Diet Coke.

 

. . . I was caught off guard when I approached Gretchen once more with her drink. She sat staring transfixed, and I followed her gaze to a family that had just been seated. I nearly dropped the glass but refused to take my eyes off the family. Or rather, him. Funeral Guy. Again. Did he know I worked here? How ludicrous, and completely egotistical. I had to keep reminding myself that the world did not, in fact, revolve around me.

“Damnit, Brooke!” Gretchen cried. “You spilled Coke all over me!”

I tore my eyes away from Funeral Guy to look at Gretchen’s shirt. There were two tiny dark spots just to the left of her breast. I rolled my eyes.

“All over you, huh?”

“This is Bebe, bitch,” she replied.

I grinned. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Yeah. Sure you don’t. You better start setting aside your tip money if this shit doesn’t wash out.”

“Oh, Gretchy,” I said.

“Do not call me that,” she warned, and then her tone changed in a flash. “Now, check out that hottie over there.” She pointed to Funeral Guy. My hottie. I already decided to claim him.

I was itching to see her reaction. “Gretchen, that’s Funeral Guy.”

 

 

© S. Walden, 2013