“Yeah, Shelby, you said that already. To everyone in here.” Aiden looks up and I can see his face has changed expression. My body tenses and I swear my hair is standing up on the back of my neck.
“Hello again, Miss Willows,” that familiar deep voice says to me. Jack Hamilton couldn’t possibly be eating at the Grease Lounge, but I should have known better. The fates had wanted to screw me over since the day I was conceived by my useless parents.
I groan, putting my head on the linoleum tabletop, hands over my face. I peek from behind my hands, seeing him standing there, a curious smile on his face. He is with Dean Andrews, the one who asked him to teach Dr. Roth’s class. He nods to my friends and continues to follow a perky waitress to a table on the far side of the dining room.
“I guess that’s Edie’s Mr. H., huh?” Aiden tactfully whispers.
“Classic. This explains why you’re the brilliant pre-med major,” I say sarcastically, motioning my hands dramatically in the air.
“Uh huh,” Shelby replies, grinning like the witch she is.
“I hate you, Shelby,” I mumble as I pick up my menu again, slinking down in my seat to see if I can peer around it and see Mr. Hamilton across the room. He’s facing me and talking animatedly with Dean Andrews. I see him smile at me and I quickly move the menu in front of me again. “I really hate you, Shells. I mean, like, end of the world kind of hate.” My face is heated and I feel a twisting flush spread from my middle to my face.
“I know. That’s why Aiden and I are buying you dinner,” she tells me, practically bouncing in her seat. She is the worst…friend…ever.
Jack
When Dean Andrews asked me to meet him for a late lunch after class, I didn’t think he would have chosen the Grease Lounge. It is a hole-in-the-wall, filled with and practically run by college students. I recalled my days as an undergrad eating here and the indigestion that would surely follow. We walk from the campus a short distance away, then wait for someone to seat us when we walk in. I notice mostly kids sitting at tables, enjoying shakes and burgers. The place hasn’t changed one bit.
“So how was class today?” Dean Andrews asks, addressing me while we waited to be seated.
“It was good. Usually I teach Calculus or Fundamentals of Math, so Statistics is a nice change. I always enjoyed that class as a student.” I lean back slightly, stretching out the kink in my neck, and look around again.
“Excellent.” He checks his phone for messages. We slowly make our way to a table, following a young waitress who is rocking out the nineteen fifties-style uniform, the top button on her dress undone, likely to earn extra tips.
As we pass by a table of three, I hear someone say, “Who is Mr. H.?”
Another voice replies, “Mr. H. is Edith’s wet dream.”
Incredible odds were being batted today, I thought and smiled because I only know of one Edith. I stand next to her table, willing her to look up. Red-faced, her eyes meet mine and, as much as I want to soothe her, if I really am her wet dream then, damn, I’m in trouble. Instead, I say, “Hello again, Miss Willows,” and move onto the table with Dean Andrews before she can respond. Poor Edith. It looks like she wants to crawl under the table, or kick her girlfriend hard. I’d probably be embarrassed, too, but I need to keep my shit together and not get embroiled in any scandals here. Teaching is a job I love doing, even if my schedule only allows it to happen part-time.
“So, Jack, tell me about the business you’re running.” Dean Andrews picks up a menu, looking it over. “Ah, they have an excellent Rueben special you should try.”
“Well, business is good, but that’s because I make it so. I get lots of referrals, too many, for risk analysis and marketing management.” He chuckles at my response as our waitress comes over.
“Hello, I’m Claire, and I’ll be serving you today.” Claire filled out the bubblegum pink outfit nicely. Frankly, it is hard not to notice the way she angles her body closer to mine and practically purrs when she talks. I look around her and see Edith peeking out from behind her menu. I smile and she moves the menu back in place. Cute, but she is definitely not for me, just like this waitress.
“I’ll be having the Reuben. Jack?” Dean Andrews interrupts my thoughts.
“Turkey burger with avocado and chipotle mayo, please.” Perky Claire leaves and I look back over at Edith.
“You know, Jack, the university frowns upon such relationships, tempting though they may be.” Dean Andrews winks at me, and I nod non-committedly. I know he had his own fair share of romances back in the day that stayed rumors. I wonder if his wife ever knew, but don’t want to ask such personal questions that will ruin the image I have of the man I’d looked up to for so many years.