However, as the essentially adopted sibling, he doesn’t get a full-ride for nothing. Which is why he’s on the other side of the clean, glass windows and kitchen door of a local, midnight greasy spoon. It’s nothing less than what he deserves. If Amos wants a silver spoon in his mouth, he’ll have to clean one up and earn it first.
Chapter Two
Amos
“Heads up,” Colin says as he waltzes into the kitchen with a plastic, gray bucket full of dirty plates. “Xavier and his buddies just walked in.”
Of course they did, I think irritably as I reach for the metal spatula and flip the burger on the flattop. This is exactly what I was expecting, and my only hope is that they won’t send back everything two or three times, as they tend to do when they know that I’m on the line.
“I apologize in advance,” I grumble, glancing at him with sheepish agitation.
Colin grins at me. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like they’ll be able to cause much trouble. As soon as Katy saw them walk in, she made a beeline for their table. And you know she’s not going to take any shit.”
I grin, feeling a slight pang of relief.
Katy Kat, as I like to call her, is a no-nonsense, grizzled waitress with twenty-five years of experience under her belt and little to no patience for us young hooligans.
Not to mention, she’s well aware of the antics Xavier and the rest of the Rich Boys pack like to engage in.
It makes me feel better when she’s out front—it usually means there will be less bullshit than usual, even though I know something is bound to slip through… it always does.
“Make sure you give me the highlights,” I say to Colin as I lift the burger off the flattop and turn around to place it on the plate in the pick-up window. “I’m sure she’ll have some good one-liners if they start up.”
___
I roll my shoulders about an hour later when I go outside to take my first break of the night. I can still hear the drunken frat bros shouting drunken obscenities from somewhere in a three-block radius, but I ignore them because it’s nice to stand in the cool, night air for a little bit.
I place my cigarette between my lips, fish my lighter out of my pocket, and press down on the spark wheel with my thumb, quickly bringing the flame close to the tip.
I pull on my smoke a couple of times, and once I’m satisfied that the end has caught fire, I slip the lighter back into my pocket.
I chuckle and shake my head when another thunderous round of bro laughter splits the air.
It must be nice to have friends.
To go out with them from time to time and more than likely not have to scrape just to get by.
All because step-mommy decided that I should stay in the gutters where she found me and Dad.
I shake away the notion and lean back against the dirty brick wall behind me, pressing a foot to it and glancing up at the moon.
Sometimes, I like to make a wish on the moon instead of a star. Because to me, the moon is larger, brighter, and has a better chance of seeing me.
I close my eyes for a moment and purse my lips as I try to think of what to wish for tonight.
A new step-mom?
For Mom to come back?
For Dad to stand up for me for once?
For a job that pays a little more than this one?
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I grind my teeth together and clear my throat. With my eyes still closed, I tap my cigarette, sending ashes fluttering to the pavement.
“Smoking.”