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I determine to ignore my paranoia and hurry along to work, making it in the nick of time.

Of course, the manager, Sherry, makes sure I know it too.

"You were almost late!" she barks at me.

"Almost but not quite." I smile back at her cheerily.

She rolls her eyes, but I see the corners of her lips twitching.

Sherry's bark is big, but I know that deep down, she's really a softie. She knows I'm a hard worker, and I think she likes the way I always show up with a positive attitude, no matter how I really feel. I don't mope around or bitch and moan like some of the other waitresses do. I mean, what's the point? That won't change anything, and the more you smile, the more tips you get.

Besides, pasting a smile on my face comes easily to me since I've been doing it my entire life. No matter how I'm feeling, I'll always smile and play it off like my day's going great.

At the end of the day, all you've got is yourself. There's no use depending on anyone else, so why air your troubles to the world?

Besides, things can always be worse, I always tell myself.

For instance, I might be an orphan struggling to make ends meet, but at least I had a safe place to stay when I was growing up. At least I got to go to school, and I wasn't one of those kids out on the street struggling.

And even now, even though I sometimes work too hard, at least I'm able to have my own place and take care of myself. That’s enough to smile about.

"Elena, I'm putting you in section four today!" Sherry hollers at me over the chaos that is the kitchen.

I give her a thumbs up instead of adding to the noise by screaming back before I grab my pad and pencil and pocket them into the apron that's tied around my waist.

Once I get myself fully clocked into the computer system, I hit the serving floor with a bright smile pasted onto my face.

This morning is just as busy as every morning is. Though the Chattelier has an upscale vibe and there isn't the noisy bustle that there is at the local iHops and other chain restaurants, we still pack in the business, and our clientele doesn't like to be kept waiting. They come here for competent, high-quality service and a classy atmosphere. I make pretty good money in tips, and it's a good thing too, considering how expensive it is to live right in the city like I do.

I swear I don't see how people can afford to live on the kinds of tips they get at the chain restaurants. I thank my lucky stars every day that I somehow landed a job here.

I smile at Mr. Willoughby, one of the regulars. I don't even have to pull out my pad and pencil to take his order. The seventy-year-old aristocrat is just as predictable as his perfectly pressed suit. I think he's retired, but he still dresses like he goes in to the office every day.

I guess a lifetime of habit is hard to break.

As I'm smiling at him and listening to him tell me how his morning has been so far, I feel another little prickle at my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I have to fight to keep from glancing over my shoulder.

I feel like my smile is unnaturally pasted onto my face. My cheeks are hurting with the effort it takes to keep looking cheery and happy when I'm suddenly feeling flushed and nervous. If Mr. Willoughby notices, he doesn't make any indication, though.

When he finally stops talking, I inform him I'll be right back with his coffee and orange juice.

I turn, my eyes rapidly scanning the room. Of course, there's nothing out of the ordinary here, and of course, there are several pairs of eyes on me because I'm a waitress and people are waiting for me to take their order.

I smile and nod at people as I make my way back to the kitchen. I grab a cup and fill it with coffee, my hands shaking so badly a drop of coffee spills onto the counter.

I place the coffee pot back onto the burner and take in a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm down.

What the crap is wrong with me?

Get it together, Elena, I mentally chide myself.

I can't afford to lose this job.

Three

Stephan

She senses me.As a predator, I should probably be upset at that knowledge. I like to sneak up on my prey without them ever knowing that I'm coming.


Tags: Kenzie Skye Paranormal