(HELENA)
"You know, you'd be real pretty if you smiled more, darlin'."
I put the plate of chicken and waffles down in front of a man who, after yelling at me about his food taking forever, has now decided, from the way he's leering at my t-shirt, that the thing he's hungry for is me.
It's a size too small, but my boss in this out-of-the-way café wasn't about to order a t-shirt for a new girl who hasn't proven herself capable yet. But he pays me cash in hand, and the tips aren't terrible, so I don't complain.
"Was there anything else?" I keep my expression blank because if I say what I think of creeps, I won't last a week in this job.
I hadn't wanted to return to New York at all. It's filled with memories— both good and bad—but I needed a job, and I knew I would find one here faster than if I'd gone to an unfamiliar city.
