Color Blind(7)

“Absolutely. I’ll leave just as soon as I slip on my shoes and grab my purse.”



Later that day while I was at work, the same man came back in and requested to sit in my section. As I came out of the kitchen, I saw him sitting at one of my tables. Here we go again. I mustered a fake smile as I approached him.



“Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you to drink?”



“I’d like a Dr. Pepper, please,” he said grinning up at me.



When I returned with his drink, I took out my order pad. “What would you like today?” I tried not to sound annoyed.



“Your phone number, and this time, I’m not taking no for an answer.”



I inhaled sharply, “I already told you. I don’t give my number out to strangers. What would you like to order?”



“My name’s Dale Halloway. There, now I’m not a stranger.”



“That’s nice Dale. Real cute. What would you like to order?”



“I’d like to take you out if you’d quit being so God damned difficult. So tell me, where are we going?" he crossed his hands below his chin, waiting for her response.



I rolled my eyes, “Nowhere. Are you going to order or not? I have other tables that I need to attend.”



“Yeah,” he said hastily. “Let me have…a turkey club with an order of fries, and your number.”



“I’ll put your order in,” I said, tucking my order pad into my apron as I walked away from the table.



Rachel could tell that I was stressed out as I made fountain sodas for my three top table.



“What’s wrong? You look pissed.”



“That guy’s back! He’s sitting in my section and demanding my phone number again. He said he’s not taking no for an answer,” I sighed.



Rachel peeked her head out of the kitchen and immediately spied the hunky rich guy sitting in my section. “I think you should give him your number. If a man like that came demanding my number, he wouldn’t have to ask twice. He’s fucking hot! And girl, you know he’s got some money. Look at his clothes and his shoes.”



“I better get back to my tables,” I said pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen.



As I waited on my other tables, I noticed that he never took his eyes off of me. Maybe Rachel was right; maybe I should give him my number. Even though my family hated white people, I didn’t hold the same grudge. I was smart enough to know that not all cops are monsters, and not all white people are bad.



“Do you need a refill?” I asked as I made my way past his table.



“Yes, please,” he grabbed my wrist. “Tell me, why won’t you give me your number?”



“Why do you want my number? How do you know I’m not already taken?”



“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he said eyeballing my hand.



I paused as I tried to find the right words. “How do I know you’re not some kind of psycho? I don’t know you from that guy over there,” I pointed to a man with a scraggly beard and dirty shirt.



“One date. That’s all I’m asking for. After we go out, you can decide whether or not you want to talk to me again, but you will. I can promise you that,” he winked at me.



“I’ll be back with that drink,” I said, breaking free from his grip.



As I made his drink, I waited for Rachel to come back into the kitchen. When she did, I told her what Dale had said.



“I’m tellin’ you, girl, you better go out with that man. Hell, even if he is a psycho, he’s damn good looking. One date won’t kill ya. Go give him your number.”



Following the advice of my friend, I walked back out to Dale’s table and took out my order pad. “Here, I’m going to give you my number, but all you’re getting is one date.”



He took the piece of paper out of my hand and pulled out his cell phone.



“What are you doing?” I asked.



“I’m calling you to make sure this is really your number before I leave.”



The audacity he had pissed me off. “Who in the hell do you think you are? You’re not God’s gift to women, I can tell you that right now.”



“Oh? I think I am,” he flashed his movie star teeth at me. My voicemail picked up. “And there you are, Kimberly. I’ll call you later.” He slipped me a hundred dollar tip as he walked away from the table.





Chapter Two



“What did the doctor say?” Lorraine asked.



“Well, he noted Nevaeh might have a bug, which would explain her fever. He also seems to think the way she plays on the floor all the time are causing her knees to swell and hurt from it,” I explained.