I spent more time with Phyllis than I did with my mom, and soon I was always at her house. She was more like a grandmother to me.
I clear my throat, and she whirls around to face me. The ever-present scowl on her face morphs into a megawatt smile when she sees me.
"Look at my boy, coming to visit me," she says to everyone within earshot as she places a pie in the glass stand on the counter.
The diner is fifties inspired and serves comfort food, all made from scratch from Phyllis's own recipes. She also gave me my first job-bussing tables-when I was eleven. "It'll keep you out of trouble, boy," is what she said, not really giving me a choice, and I took it because not only did she pay me, but she also fed me like a king.
Walking behind the counter, I lean down and give her a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. She giggles and then pushes me away. "You look like shit." There she is, my Phyllis never sugarcoating anything.
"Awww, thanks, you look like shit yourself." I give it right back to her.
She scowls at me again, right before she lets a deep belly laugh loose. "Sit down. I'll get you coffee."
She gets me a steaming cup of coffee, sliding it in front of me with a big piece of homemade apple pie. She's won numerous blue ribbons for this pie.
"So, what brings you here?" She leans on her hands on the counter.
I fork into the pie, chewing it before I tell her why I'm really here. "Need a favor." I don't take off my glasses nor do I look at her for fear that she'll see right through me.
"Oh, yeah? Since when does Mick Moro ask for favors?" Her question doesn't surprise me. She knows I don't ask anyone for anything.
"There's a first time for everything, right?" I drop my fork and take a sip of the hot coffee.
"What do you need?" She stands up, removing the plate from in front of me.
"Have a friend. She needs a job, bad. You have anything open?" I finally look up at her, my chest not moving because I'm holding my breath.
"You actually have friends?" She smiles at me, and I know that she is going to help me out. That is the way she is. That's Phyllis.
"She worked at Manny's Jug House. Her daughter ran away from home, and let's just say she can't go back there." I take another sip of the coffee before I say more than I want to.
"Oh my goodness! That poor thing! She can have any shift she wants. Money is good during the week in the mornings and at lunch. Breakfast and dinner on the weekends. You think she would have problems with that?"
I have to think about how she's going to be pissed at me for stepping on her toes, but in all honesty, I'm the reason she lost her job. I nod my head at Phyllis before taking my phone out of my pocket to text her.
Hey, are you there? It's Mick.
My phone dings a second later, and I know she's stuck to her phone, hoping that Lori calls her again.
What can I do for you, Mick?
I can practically see her eyes roll and hear her attitude through the phone.
You think you could come down to Phyllis's Diner in about twenty?
HMMM let me check my calendar. Oh, that's right, I have no job, so my calendar is wide-open. Leaving now. I'll be there in ten. Order me a piece of pie, and keep the tab open so you can pay for it.
I laugh at her bossiness, throwing the phone down on the counter, and look over at Phyllis. "She's on her way. I should probably warn you she would rather drink acid than accept my help."
Phyllis raises her eyebrows questioningly.
"She pretty much hates me."
Phyllis crosses her arms over her chest. "Nothing new there, boy. Give it some time, she'll come around. They all do."
I almost choke on my coffee while she continues talking.
"I haven't ever seen you go out of your way to help anyone. So I know this one is different."
I put my hand up to stop her before she goes home tonight and knits baby booties. "It's not like that with her. Trust me. You'll see once you meet her."
She looks around us to make sure no one is listening before she speaks, "That bitch filled your head and your heart with garbage, and it's high time you flush it out of your system once and for all."
I don't have time to say anything before the door opens and the sound of bells fills the silence that has grown between us.
I turn and take her in, the sight of her knocking me for a loop. She is dressed much the same as last night, tight jeans hugging her small body, a black, V-necked T-shirt that molds perfectly to her breasts, and black flip-flops on her tiny feet.
There is not a trace of makeup on her face, and up close like this, I can see tiny freckles sprinkled over her nose. Her hair sits on top of her head in one of those bun things women wear. It occurs to me that she looks just like her daughter from the pictures I've seen.
She slides onto the stool next to me, giving Phyllis a smile. "Hi there," she says then turns to me, giving me a nod before turning back to Phyllis. "Did he order?" she asks as she reaches over and grabs the menu from the middle of the counter.
"He's just having pie," Phyllis says.
"I'll take a bacon cheeseburger, all the way, with fries, please." She flips the menu over, looking at the drinks. "And a chocolate shake. He's buying." Once she is done placing her order, she looks up and smiles.
It takes two seconds to realize this probably wasn't my smartest idea. These two are going to ruin me. Phyllis just smiles at her and walks back to the kitchen to put in the order.
"So, Mick, what did you want?"
"I'm going to introduce you to Phyllis, whom you've just met, by the way, and she is going to speak with you about a job."
Her spine stiffens, and she glares at me, the green in her hazel eyes deepening with her rising anger.
"Now before you go apeshit on me, it's my fault you lost your job last night, so just go with it."
She lets out a laugh. "Just go with it. I've heard that before." She shakes her head. "I could get my own job. You know that, right?" She crosses her hands in front of her.
Phyllis walks out with the chocolate shake in her hand. She places it right in front of Marissa, who leans forward and takes a big sip, groaning out in ecstasy.
The sounds of her pleasure over the shake have my cock springing to life.
"I haven't had one of these in three years. I haven't had a cheeseburger in over six months!" she says and then goes back to her shake.
Before I can ask her why, Phyllis does it for me.
Marissa shrugs her shoulders. "I was a stripper, so I had to keep my weight below a certain number. Now, though, that's not an issue." She finishes about half the milkshake before we hear the order pick-up bell coming from the kitchen.
"That sounds like your burger is ready. Now stop drinking that so you'll have room for real food," Phyllis says to her while walking away.
"You don't need to watch your weight, you look fine," I say before I can stop myself.
Before she can respond, two plates are plunked down in front of us. Phyllis looks pointedly at me. "You need some grease in your system to absorb all the whiskey that is seeping out of your pores."
Marissa doesn't wait for me before she bites into her burger, ketchup gathering in the corner of her mouth. Her tongue slides out to lick it away, and that innocent gesture has my cock knocking on my zipper.
She dips a fry in ketchup. "Is that what that smell is? You should have showered."
I glare at her, taking my own bite of my burger.
Right before I answer, Phyllis cuts in, "So, Mick mentioned he got you fired from your job last night."
Marissa just nods her head since she has so much food in her mouth, she looks like a chipmunk.
"Lucky Jolene gave her notice last night after I found her on her knees in the supply closet with Becky's husband. The same Becky who was sitting in a booth, waiting for him to finish in the bathroom."
Marissa's eyes practically bulge out of their sockets.
"So if you want the job, it's yours. I don't tolerate tardiness, it's rude. I also don't tolerate my waitresses giving head to the customers, especially the married ones, in my supply closet."
Marissa swallows her mouthful, wiping her hands in her napkin. "I would love to work for you. I haven't been late for a single shift, not one, ever. I'm kind of focused on getting my daughter home right now, so I have bigger things going on in my life. There'll be no blowjobs given out by me. And just so you know, I don't tolerate being talked down to or disrespected. Some people will come in here, and all they'll see is the stripper, not the woman. I won't allow anyone to treat me like a whore, because I'm not one."
The thought that people actually judge her because she's a stripper makes my blood boil. My fist clenches open and shut while I try to get myself to calm down. Then I realize I was that fucking asshole once or twice also.
"I like you," is all Phyllis says before looking at me then back at Marissa. "Can you start tonight? I know it's last minute, but I'm really stuck."
"Yup, I can start right after I finish this and that piece of pie"-she cocks her head in my direction-"he's going to buy me."
Phyllis lets out a laugh. "Oh, this one is going to work out just fine," she says before going back in the kitchen.
"I like her," Marissa takes another bite. "She'll be cool to work for."