Chapter 2

Allison POV

"I told you... I wanted to throw up, so I ran outside. I didn't want to ruin the party for you, so I called an Uber. And again, I apologize for embarrassing you in front of Mr. Myers, but I’m sure that he knows the damage the cocktails served at his party has done." I lied to Toni. I wasn't feeling ill; I had a few cocktails, yes, but it wasn't enough to make me drunk. Hussain was the real reason why I left. Sitting there before him, lost in those brown eyes, guilt consumed me every second that passed by. And the smirk on his face defeated whatever confidence that lingered within me.

"I don't know, Allison. I don't know if I will get another chance like that," she mumbled on the other end of the phone.

"That's fine. Don't beat yourself up for my silly mistakes. There will be other opportunities."

"It's like you don't want to stop working at that diner. I did that for you, Ali. I hate the way Venice treats you. I hate how she treats all her workers."

Taking a deep breath, I tucked my hand under my head, resting it in the middle of my palm. It was 7 AM, and I was having a slight hangover. It's way too early for this conversation, and I should be getting my rest to deal with a controlling Venice and shouting customers.

"Do you have to talk about this now," I groaned. "I love you and all that, babe, but I need to mentally prepare myself. I have work in one hour."

"Then call in sick," she uttered in annoyance.

"I can't. I’ve exceeded the number of sick days given to me per month," I scoffed.

"Alright, I guess I'll see you later. I have to get dressed for work anyway... Oh, and by the way, Mr. Myers was asking a lot of questions about you."

Swallowing the lump of regret in my throat, I nervously bit down on my bottom lip. "Why? Did something happen after I left?"

"No, nothing happened. He just wanted to know your full name, where you work—"

"Did you… did you tell him anything?" My voice cracked in between the words.

"No... I-is there something that I need to know?"

"No," I chuckled nervously, "I wanted to know why he so curious about me, that's all."

"Okay, I'll catch up with you later—heard that cooperate is calling a meeting. I hope it's in regards to our incomes. A girl can do a lot with a little extra money."

Grinning widely, I sat at the edge of my bed, staring across the room at the frame with Gary's picture.

"I-I got to go. Talk to you later."

Ending the call, I lowered the phone from my ear, still staring at the picture. It has been seven long months, and I still don't have any closure as to why he did what he did. I have scrolled through my cell phone many times, hesitating to delete his number. Each time I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to do it, but I guess some things don't deserve an explanation. I just have to suck it up and move on.

Still staring at his picture, I rose to my feet, sliding the thin straps of my nightwear off my shoulders, slipping it down my upper arms. The satin fabric gracefully glided over my hips, docking at the base of my feet.

"It's your loss, Gary... not mine," I snarled, as I headed towards the bathroom.

Staring at my reflection in the full-body mirror, I noticed how pale I appeared. I was already skinny, so not having perfect skin was like a death sentence. I didn't feel sick, so I guess it's due to negligence. Since the break-up, I haven't been taking care of myself, and I didn't care. Rolling my eyes at my reflection, I slid into the shower. Closing my eyes, I squeezed the top of the faucet. The sting of the water on my skin poured on my face and down my body. Peace.

Wrapped in a towel, I unhooked my uniform from the hanger. It was rosy pink, with a white collar, striped sleeves, and a ready-made waist apron attached to it. My job didn't pay much, but I was happy doing it. Some days, I look like shit, and I just want to say fuck it. But while I was growing up, I always dreamt of owning a cafe or diner one day. Now, I'm a twenty-five-year-old woman working in one, but I believe that no matter the pace you're going, whether you're sprinting like a horse or crawling like a turtle, forward is forward. Smiling down at my uniform, I slowly got dressed. I wasn't in a hurry. The diner was already open, but my shift begins at eight.

Fully outfitted in my work attire, I sat down on my bed, placed my cell phone in my pocket, and forced my feet into the white flats they provided. Picking up my handbag from the bedside table, I swung It over my shoulder, scurrying towards the door. While snatching my keys out of the keyhole, I twisted the doorknob, looking over my shoulders at my unkempt apartment,

"I’ll clean up later," I whispered. It's become more of a motivational speech because I never get the chance to. Even on my days off, all I do is sleep, eat junk, and sleep again.

Slipping through the door, I made my way out of my apartment, and out into the streets. It was a busy day, but when wasn't it?

"Taxi!" I flagged down the familiar transport and jogged towards the car.

Finally catching up to it, I pulled the door open, skimming my backside on its worn leather interior.

"Good morning, Sam." I smiled brightly at my old friend,

"Good morning, Allison. You look lovely today," he grinned, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.

"You know, Sam, I wear this every day to work. Still, you compliment me every time you see me," I mumbled, intertwining my fingers together.

"Who said clothes had anything to do with the impression you give? True beauty lies within, and it's up to you to let others see it and admire it," he mumbled, as he shifted back into the flowing traffic.

Looking through the window, I glanced at the passing buildings. Sam was right; sometimes we get so caught up with keeping up with fashion and trends that we forget to celebrate and appreciate ourselves. Life is the most substantial gift we could have. My biggest mistake was putting a man’s needs before my own, trying to be the perfect girlfriend. I never missed a call; I stayed in shape; I even took cooking lessons, and for what? Only to be dumped for someone else.

"Here we are, pretty lady," Sam mumbled, pulling up in front of Venn's, the diner I worked at.

Handing him a twenty, I patted him on the shoulder before exiting the car. "Have a good one," Sam said as he drove away.

"Thank you," I whispered, eyeing the Venn's sign that sat high on the top of the building. "I need it."

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the double glass doors to the diner. It was already packed, and judging by how many people were waiting and how many were eating, I could tell that most of the waitresses weren't here yet. Or maybe they are on strike; they seem to do that a lot here.

"Thank God, you're finally here." Mildred yanked my bag from my grip, forcing a tray into my hands, "Table number four. We tried to bring him his order several times, but he was pretty clear about who he wanted to fetch it for him," she added.

"Me?" My eyes widened, staring back at her.

"Yes! Now go." She gave me a small shove.

The aroma steaming up from the tray flowed into my nostrils and made me froth at the sides of my mouth. It was loaded with my favorite waffles and fried chicken, with pancakes and eggs on another plate, two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, and tiny sachets of pancake syrup scattered around. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning. Looking up from the tray, my eyes landed on a man sitting alone at table four. He was browsing through a newspaper held close to his face, concealing his identity.

Setting down the tray, I began to unload the plates. He was sitting alone, so how was he going to eat all of this by himself? Maybe he was waiting for someone.

"Good morning," I cleared my throat trying to make conversation. "What an appetite you've got there," I chuckled lowly.

"I sure do," the stranger muttered, lowering the newspaper and coming into full view.

"Hussain! What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he said, folding the paper equally into two halves.