Give Me Reason (The Reason Series) (2 page)

"No," he says, sharply, and with a strong sense of authority. "I'll have the barbecue bacon burger, no slaw." I smile. "Fries, a Coke, and a side of mayonnaise."
 

I write down his order, though I don't need to. It's committed to memory, but my ass-hat of a boss has this thing about proof. He seems to think everyone is stealing from him. "Anything else?"

"No." That authority is back in his voice. It's strange: His tone isn’t threatening or demanding, it just projects a sense of confidence and maybe even a little cockiness. Nonetheless, something tells me that this man knows what he wants and is not to be messed with.
 

"Okay, darlin’, I'll be back with your Coke," I say and turn toward the counter. As I walk back, I can feel his piercing eyes on me. I’m tempted to turn around just to show him I’m not one to be intimidated by a stare-down, but I don’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, he might get the wrong impression and think I’m flirting with him. Friendly maybe, but nothing more than that; I’m in no position to be flirting with someone intentionally.

"You were over there a long time," Laura says to me as I reach for a glass.
 

"He was having a hard time deciding what he wanted to eat," I say back, trying really hard to not be rude.
 

"Oh reeeaaallyyy..." she says, dragging out the last word.
 

I look up at her, shocked by her reaction. "What?" I say.
 

"You mean to tell me you weren't checking him out while you were over there?" I just shake my head and go back to filling the glass with ice and Coke. "Well he was sure checking you out."

"What's your point, Laura?" I say, and she glares at my tone.
 

"My point, Vivienne, is that he was checking you out and you flat-out ignored him. He's gorgeous. What is your problem?"

My eyes prickle with tears. My problem is that I'm broken and damaged and I don't need some deranged man to lust after right now. "I have a lot on my mind," I say out loud. Laura is insanely nice and sweet and — lest we forget — motherly. She doesn't need to know all the gory details.
 

"You always have a lot on your mind. You’re twenty-two years old, what more can be on your mind than going out with friends and having a good time?"

Oh, if you only knew.
"You know that's not who I am," I say as I turn back toward Mr. Suit. I look up in his direction. He most certainly is watching me, his eyes a bright light in his otherwise dark features.
 

I finally take a moment to really look at him. He looks to be not much older than me, actually. Maybe twenty-five or twenty-six? His hair is black, slicked back except for a stray strand falling into his eyes. His jaw is hard and sharp, leading into a very strong, square chin. His lips are a soft pink, full, and he has deep-set, bright blue eyes. There’s an intensity to his gaze that has me so transfixed I nearly trip over my own feet as I make my way back to his table.
 

Damn it, Vivienne, get your head out of your ass
, I scold myself as I approach his table. Tripping over my own feet and spilling Coke all down this guy’s front is just the kind of thing that would get me fired, and I can't afford to lose this job.

"Can I get you anything else right now?"
 

"No, I'm good, thanks," he says, his eyes still boring into me with that intense stare.
 

Luckily for me we get busy, and aside from bringing him his food and his check I manage to pretty much ignore him for the rest of his meal. Which is why it surprises me when I go to clear the table and find a thirty percent tip.

TWO

No sooner do I set foot in the diner the next day for another shift than Mr. Suit from the night before shows up again. Our food is not that good. I can't imagine what on earth is bringing him back here again.
 

Laura takes to seating him, and I, of course, get left with the table. Tonight he asks me how I am, and we converse a little bit. Nothing too exciting. He orders the same thing as last night, and again I don't get to spend much time with him because we get busy.
 

He pays his tab, gives me another thirty percent tip and leaves.
 

Finally Thursday rolls around and I'm beyond exhausted. I've worked every day since Sunday. But I do what I need to in order to survive. I make squat for an hourly wage, and I lose a lot of money when it comes to tips paid with credit or debit cards because they're taxed through my meager paycheck. But luckily most of our customers pay cash, and I usually manage to walk out with about fifty dollars a week.

I find myself slightly disappointed when I'm in the diner for more than an hour and Mr. Suit from the last two nights hasn't shown up yet. Then I beat myself up for actually hoping he would come by again.
 

I head off to the back to grab some more silverware for the wrapping Laura and I are working on, and when I come back, I nearly drop the tub all over the floor.

Sitting at table twelve is none other than Mr. Suit himself. Looking as dashing as ever tonight in another suit and tie. If this man can afford to dress like that, why on earth does he eat here?
 

I look to Laura, who nods encouragingly, and I head on over to the table. Ironically enough, he has the same menu from the other night, the one I’d forgotten to clean. Obviously no one else has cleaned it, either.
 

"Hi there. How are you tonight?"

"Great, thanks. I'll have the same - if you remember." He smiles.
 

"Barbecue bacon burger, fries and a Coke?"

He smiles again. "You got it."

"I'll be right back."

After what seems like an eternity, I finally make it back to his table. The dirty menu is staring me in the face once again. "Here you go," I say, setting down his glass and pulling a straw from my apron. I reach for the menu, determined to go and clean it off. I realize as I reach out that my hand is shaking. This fact does not go unnoticed by Mr. Suit. He tries to reach for my hand. I pull it back quickly, clutching the menu.

"Do I make you nervous?" he asks in his usual stern voice. I shake my head. "You're shaking like a leaf." I look quickly at his face. His jaw is set into a hard line, his lips pursed. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

"This morning," I say quickly. It's true: I ate a hot dog for breakfast this morning. Cold, straight from the refrigerator.
 

"You should eat something," he says, attempting to soften his tone.
 

"Thank you, sir." I watch his nostrils flare. "However, I assure you, I'm fine."

"It's not you I'm worried about," he says, staring coldly at me.
 

"Excuse me?" There's no way. How could he possibly know?
 

"Forget it. I shouldn't have intruded."

I try to gather my thoughts. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Yes," he says. His eyes rake up and down my body from head to toe. Rest assured, he's not seeing anything worth looking at twice. I wait patiently for him to go on, but nothing comes.

"What would that be?"
 

"A duplicate of what I just ordered. For yourself."

I shake my head. "It's not allowed."

"And you need to eat," he all but growls at me.
 

"I appreciate your concern, but I can
not
afford to lose my job. So, thank you for your offer, however, I respectfully decline. Now if there is nothing else I can get
you
," I say, adding emphasis, "I will be back in just a few minutes with your food."
 

I turn quickly before he can trap me again with his stare. The look on his face is hard, unyielding. Something tells me that he’s going to find a way for me to lose this argument.
 

When I return to the counter, Laura starts in with the Spanish Inquisition about my conversation with Mr. Suit.
 

"He saw my hand shake when I picked up his menu. Then tried to order a burger for me to eat."
 

"When was the last time you ate?" she asks.
 

"Jeez, stop. This morning, alright?"
 

"No, Viv, it's not alright. You need to eat, you’re nothing but skin and bones."

I roll my eyes at her and turn to grab the washrag so that I can clean this stupid menu. "One meal won’t solve that problem," I mutter bitterly.
 

"So let him buy you a meal," she says. I shake my head stubbornly. "I won’t tell Bart."
 

"No, Laura. You know damn well he will find out, and when he does he will think I conned a nice customer into buying me food. It's not worth losing my job over."

"You say that as though your life means nothing," she says dryly.
 

I shrug. Lately I'm not sure how much I care about myself or my life.

"Damn it, Vivienne, what the heck is wrong with you?"

I just shake my head. "Stop. Please, Laura. I get it. I'll try and eat."

She just shakes her head and goes about her business. Antonio hits the bell on the pass-through, telling me that Mr. Suit’s food is ready. I go grab a tray, wipe it off with the rag and put the plates on it, hoping and praying I don't get caught in his stare, trip and fall on my face and make an ass of myself on the way back to his table.
 

I make my way there, feeling a little more confident because I haven't actually looked at him. I quickly place his burger and fries on the table, followed by the bowl of mayonnaise. "Anything else?" I ask, not looking at him.
 

"Will you join me?"

"I..." I shake my head. "I can't."

Suddenly I feel a hand at my back, causing me to jump slightly, and Laura comes into my peripheral vision. "Is everything alright?" she says quietly and quickly.
 

"I asked her to join me," Mr. Suit says to Laura. Fantastic.

"Oh, what a fabulous idea. Vivienne, why don't you take a break," she says, more as an order than as a request.
 

"I just started. I don’t–"
 

She cuts me off. "You're fine. Have a seat. No one else in here anyway," she says and walks away.
 

I look toward the man in the booth. He has a smirk of satisfaction on his face. "Now you have no excuse. Take a seat."

I huff loudly. I want to protest and throw a fit, but I have to admit, I’m curious. And, I realize with a sigh, I really am hungry. I concede to his demand and slide in across from him. As soon as I sit down, he pushes his food in my direction. I push it back and shake my head.
 

He pushes it at me again. I look at Laura, who nods and mouths, "Go ahead."

"What about you?" I say quietly.
 

"What about me?" he retorts.
 

"This is your food," I say. I'm trying to be tough, but the food in front of me smells so good. My mouth begins to water and I swallow back the saliva.
 

"I've eaten since this morning, for one. And for two, I think your co-worker over there has already placed an order for me." He nods at me. "So, now you have no excuses. Eat." His tone is gentle, but it still feels like an order.
 

With the smell of food in my nostrils, I’m too hungry to argue anymore. I reach for the ketchup, squirt it all over the fries and dive in.

THREE

Somewhere around the last of my French fries, Laura shows up with another plate for Mr. Suit, whose name I have yet to learn. She nods with approval at the fact that only half of the burger is left. "Do you want anything else?" she says.

I roll my eyes.
 

He scowls.
 

I shake my head.
 

"Water. And two more Cokes," he says as he hands his now-empty glass to Laura.
 

"I'll be right back." And she's off toward the counter.
 

I stare at the last half of my burger and debate whether or not to finish it, but then my stomach rumbles and I pick it up. Just as I lean in to take a bite, I see him staring at me again. "What?" I say around my burger, and he smirks at me.
 

"I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone eat with such purpose before. Like you’re eating your last meal. Why don't you eat?"

Really? Bottom line, I can barely afford the hot dogs I do have. But there’s no way I’m going to tell him that. "I'm just not hungry."

"That, Vivienne, is bullshit," he says with such an edge to his voice and such a straight face that I nearly drop my burger.
 

"What the hell do you care?" I snap. "I'm a waitress in some random diner, and you feel sorry for me, so you buy me a meal." Roughly setting the burger back on the plate, I slide to the end of the booth and stand up. "Don't worry about my food, I'll find a way to pay for it," I say and attempt to storm off, but suddenly the room is spinning. I feel my body start to sway, and the floor rises fast. I close my eyes — bracing for impact — and black out.

"We need to call an ambulance," I hear a male voice say. A voice that seems familiar, but...

"She'll put up a huge fight." That voice I know. It's Laura.

I feel arms tighten around me. "Vivienne." A hand strokes along my arm. "Vivienne." It's the male, Mr. Suit. My eyes flutter. "Vivienne, are you alright?"

I nod, I think. Or at least I intend to, but I can't quite tell if I have actually moved. "Ye—yes," I croak.
 

"Thank God," he groans, and my eyes open. Our gazes meet. His expression is soft, concerned. His eyes are warm, liquid. I feel his hand slide along my arm again. The sensation sends shivers across my skin and I squirm.
 

"Wh—" I breathe. "What happened?"

"You tried to storm off in a big bad huff, and I caught you on your way down." He's smiling at me. "Not my usual effect on women." I try to smile but instead I end up rolling my eyes. He laughs. "Yeah, you'll be alright."