‘Hi, is the manager here?’ I ask the girl behind the counter at Quiche.
‘Ah, she’s somewhere,’ she replies with a laugh. She’s about my age, wearing twice as much make-up, and doing that thing where someone looks you up and down, focusing on a detail — old shoes, a short skirt, a fresh pimple. It’s a habit that usually makes me feel smaller than small, but her mouth breaks into a big pearly beam at the sight of the colourful streaks through my hair and I can’t help but like her.
She presses a hand against the door into the back room, then pauses and says over her shoulder, ‘Hope you don’t mind me saying, but we were totally preschool buddies, right?’
I stand up straighter, draw my shoulders down and raise my chin. A glance at her nametag. Amvi. ‘Um, maybe.’ It’s slowly coming back. ‘Did your mum help out during storytime?’
‘Sure did. With your mum. They Meryl-Streeped the hell out of all the animal voices in every book, remember?’
I swallow. ‘Yeah.’
She grins. ‘Those were the days, huh?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Afternoon naps, no responsibility, someone to cut up our fruit.’
‘Oh, yeah. Totally.’ I smile, feeling silly for thinking she was alluding to anything else. ‘It’s Layla, by the way.’
‘I know. Hey.’ She points at her nametag. ‘Amvi, duh. I’ll try to find my boss for you.’ She turns with a flick of her hair and disappears through the door.
I pull up a seat at an empty table, my stomach churning twice as hard now. Knowing someone here wasn’t part of the plan. I rifle through my bag for my wallet, double-checking the money is still in there.
The manager barrels through the door and heads in my direction. I hurry to my feet, the chair scraping beneath me.
‘Yes?’ she says. The nametag hanging from her shirt says Gayle.
‘Er, hi,’ I mumble, trying to forget that Amvi is smiling at us from the counter as I empty the notes and loose coins onto the table. ‘This is for you.’
‘Great. Love money. But what’s it for, darl?’
I swallow. ‘Well, the other day I was here with my boyfriend and housemate — well, ex-boyfriend and ex-housemate — and they … ah, we, I guess, I was in the car — and we … we … forgot to pay.’
Her arms are crossed now. ‘And that’s the money?’
I scoop it off the table and into her hands. ‘Some of it. It’s all I have.’
‘Fair enough. Well, thanks for coming back. Accidents happen every day.’
‘They do. Except … well, what I said’s not true,’ I blurt out.
Gayle raises an eyebrow.
‘The boys bailed, but I let them, and they don’t care but I do and —’
‘Stop right there,’ she says, holding up her hand. ‘You’re telling me you did a runner? From my café?’
I hate that I’m lumped in with Kurt and Ryan, but I force myself to nod.
‘You from around here?’
I nod again, not daring to make eye contact with Amvi.
‘Parents too?’
‘Just Dad. Reg … Reg Montgomery.’
Gayle’s eyes widen. I can tell she’s heard of him, heard our family’s story. It’s probably Durnan folklore by now. ‘You’re … Layla? I mean, you don’t know me from a bar of soap … I didn’t know you were back in town.’
‘Guess I tried to keep a low profile.’ I clear my throat. ‘Well, tried and failed.’
Her mouth melts into a warm smile. ‘Yes, it seems that way, darl. I think my mum went to high school with your dad a long, long time ago, although I guess everyone crosses paths in Durnan one way or another. I wouldn’t have recognised you, not from the photos in the paper. I mean, with the spunky ’do and all.’
‘Isn’t it cool?’ Amvi chimes in, before rushing to wipe down the counter to hide her obvious eavesdropping.
I run my hand through my hair self-consciously, twirling the strands between my fingers. ‘Um, thanks … anyway, I better let you get back to work. Sorry again about the money.’
I push my chair under the table and head for the front door, which is when I notice the sign: Waitress wanted. Experience necessary.
I glance back at Gayle, who’s now behind the counter showing Amvi how to use the coffee machine. She likes my hair, knows Dad and hasn’t kicked me out of the shop for telling the truth. Maybe she won’t have a laughing attack in my face.
Just ask.
Do this one hard thing.
Just ask.
I take a breath and walk over to Gayle, who’s now rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the tables. ‘Um, hi.’
‘Hi again.’
‘I know my timing is terrible, but I saw the sign for a waitress and … and I was wondering if I could maybe hand in my CV?’
‘Ah, Layla, we filled it a few days ago,’ Gayle says, gesturing to Amvi, who mouths ‘Sorry’ to me. ‘We were supposed to take the sign down.’ Now it’s her turn to eye me up and down. ‘You got any experience?’
‘As what? Oh, as a waitress?’
‘No. As a train conductor.’ She tries not to chuckle. ‘Yes, as a waitress.’
‘No. None.’ It sounds bad, so I try to remember everything on my CV. ‘But I’ve worked in a bakery, and at a supermarket, and at a chicken shop and with a pet shelter — but that one was too sad, I couldn’t bear it when they weren’t re-homed.’
She nods. ‘Tough job.’
‘It was! Did you know hundreds of thousands of animals are put down every year? It’s the worst.’ I pause. ‘I don’t know why I said that.’
‘You like animals, huh?’
‘Sometimes more than humans.’ I hear Amvi snort with laughter from behind the counter. ‘I don’t know why I said that either. I’m bad at this.’
‘It’s fine,’ Gayle says. ‘Humans test my patience too, especially when my girlfriend burps after dinner. You know, a customer once told me their toasted cheese sandwich was too cheesy.’
‘There’s no such thing.’
‘Exactly,’ she says with a smile. ‘Layla, we don’t have anything going here, not yet anyway, but … if you’re free for a couple of hours tomorrow and want to make a few dollars, I can introduce you to my friend Max. He’s a bit lonely.’
‘Max?’
‘Oh yes. Amvi knows all about Max, don’t you, darl?’
‘We go way back,’ she says, then points at my scuffed boots. ‘My tip? Wear runners.’