Smoothing down my hair to try to look half-presentable, I walk inside and smile sweetly at the woman sitting behind the counter, whose eyes are glued to something on her knees.
“Hello,” I greet her, my eyes drifting down to her nametag. “Hello… Debbie. I’d like a glass of milk, please. And, uhm… water.”
I pull Aurora up onto a bar stool and sit down next to her. The woman doesn’t answer us, just pours out some milk into a glass, and water into another one. She sets them both down in front of us, then turns her attention back to what I can now see is a very worn book.
“Danielle… Steel,” I read on the cover. “Is that a romance?”
She ignores me, her eyes darting quickly on the page.
“It looks, uhm… good,” I continue, trying to make conversation. “I’ve never read her before. What’s it about?”
At last she lifts her eyes from the book, looking at me with undisguised annoyance. “D’ya want something?”
“Uhm, yes.” I’m pretty flustered as I feel her eyes on me. I really hate my sudden self-consciousness. I was once the most popular girl in school. Now, after two years of being stuck inside a house and only occasionally seeing some of Carmelo’s facelessgoons, I’ve practically forgotten how to carry out a normal, human conversation. “I saw you were hiring,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Is that still the case?”
She studies me for a beat. “Haven’t seen you around. You’re new in town?”
“Yes,” I say, forcing myself to hold her gaze.
“Fine.” She stands up abruptly, rummages in a small cupboard, then brings up a folded paper which she smooths out. “Here’s the application.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Do you… have a pen?”
Clicking her tongue in impatience, she goes back to rummaging in the drawer before emerging with a plastic one.
I stare down at the application as she goes back to her book, looking at the numerous fields and wondering how the hell I’m supposed to fill them out.
“Drawing, mama? Draw!”
Aurora reaches out for the pen, and I quickly lift it out of reach.
“Hold on, baby. Mama has to write. It’s very important. Drink your milk, sweetie.”
“Hungry, mama. Want to eat!”
At that, the woman—Debbie—looks up again. “What does she want? We have eggs, bacon, sausage links, pancakes—”
I hesitate, thinking of the two twenty-dollar bills in my pocket, which are everything I own in this world. Why thehelldid I not take the rest of the money?
I could kick myself for being so proud.
“Pancakes!” cries out Aurora, before I’ve had time to say a word.
“Pancakes,” I agree feebly.
Shutting the book with a sigh, Debbie stands up and stalks over to the kitchen. I hear a not entirely pleasant smell as she turns on the griddle, and a few minutes later, she comes backwith a stack of hot pancakes and some syrup.
“Careful, hon,” she says, giving Aurora a begrudging smile. “It’s piping hot.”
But that doesn’t scare Aurora, who throws herself at the pancakes with gusto, getting the sticky syrup all over herself as I turn my attention back to the application.
How thehelldo I fill this out?
I don’t have an address. I don’t have a bank account. I have no idea what my social security number is. All I have is my name, and I’m not sure writing that down is a good idea.
Finally, I scribble, “Piper O’Shay.”
Maybe writing O’Shay was a bad idea, seeing as it’s my mother’s maiden name, but I doubt Moretti and his goons know that. And Piper is a pure invention, that I came up with after hearing the waitress warn Aurora about the piping hot pancakes.