this was my prompt:
Tired of a monotonous day job, a biker with a
flat tire gets drunk with a stranger
Stella Marshall lent against the bar inconspicuously; she
eyed the pale track where the wooden floor was worn from foot traffic. If she
hadn’t seen it nearly every day for the last three years, she could almost
imagine she’d worn it down herself that afternoon trekking between tables and
the kitchen. Her back ached, her feet throbbed and she had a mere ten minutes
left on her shift, but she knew it would feel as long as the last seven hours
and fifty minutes.
“Miss?” She sighed. Really,
she thought I should just change my
name to ‘Miss’ and be done with it.
She put on her customer face and bounced back to the man
who’d called to her from table seven.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“When I ordered my burger, I asked for no onions.”
“Yes, I remember – I made sure to
highlight it on your order.”
“Oh, well, there are onions on here, and…”
“Oh, I am so sorry.” Stella apologised sincerely. That moron Tyrone can never get the simplest
order right.
“Don’t be sorry – it’s not your fault. I wouldn’t say
anything except that I am allergic to onion.”
“You have every right to say something; I’ll take that back
to the kitchen and get them to make you a fresh one. I’ll get you a
complimentary drink while I’m there – you were drinking lemon squash, right?”
“Thank you.” The man smiled, he was clearly used to surly,
grumpy waitresses who took every complaint personally; Stella couldn’t blame
him; she was used to them too.
While she was in the kitchen reminding Tyrone clearly that
the next burger needed to be sans onions, she grabbed a dishcloth and returned
to the restaurant floor. She wiped down table eighteen for what had to be at
least the fifteenth time that day. Table eighteen had a view of the pond, was
out of the draught from the entry door and somehow managed to avoid the
blinding sunlight that filled the restaurant with an orange glow around sunset;
and so, was almost always occupied, even on slow days.
Stella sighed at the notion that she knew such inane details
about a table, wiped it down and glanced out the window to notice storm clouds
approaching. She took a drinks order from the couple who sat at table eighteen
before she had so much as a chance to straighten up.
By the time she’d taken the drinks to table eighteen and
taken a lemon squash and onionless burger to the man at table seven, her shift
was over and she felt slightly more buoyant as she untied her apron in the
staff room. She changed out of her uniform and into her riding gear. She pushed
her hand through the visor of her helmet so she could carry her handbag and the
garbage from the kitchen.
She deposited the garbage bag in the skip bin behind the
restaurant and made her way to the car park. She looked at the dark clouds and
wasn’t sure whether or not she imagined a rumbling noise in the distance.
“Great.” She muttered to herself as she approached her bike.
“An hour ride home in a storm.”
“Pardon?” She spun around in alarm to see the from table
seven looking at her.
“Nothing, I was mumbling to myself.”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking to me.”
“No, just wondering if that storm will hold off long enough
for me to get home.”
“I don’t like your chances.”
“No, me neither.” Stella smiled an awkward smile and
straddled her bike. She pushed her helmet over her head and kicked the starter
motor.
She was barely three minutes down the road when the rain
began to belt down. She could barely see the road ahead of her and began to
wonder whether she should pull over and wait until the storm passed. But it
didn’t look like it was going to pass for a while. And she really just wanted
to get home. So she rode on for another quarter of an hour.
The rain was getting heavier and visibility poorer; Stella
decided she would stop at The Mermaid Beach Tavern, which was about five more
minutes down the road.
Just as she made the decision, she felt a jolt and the rear
wheel of her bike skidded sideways, spun around and threw her to the ground.
Without the presence of mind to let go of the handlebars and unable to stop
herself, Stella slid along the wet road until she and her bike lost momentum
and came to a stop. A car coming along the road behind her screeched to a halt
just short of hitting her and the driver leapt out.
“Are you hurt?” A voice shouted.
“Um, I don’t think so… not badly at least.” The driver ran
to her side to check her.
“You don’t sound too sure.” She pulled her helmet off and
immediately recognised the driver as the man from table seven – the one who was
allergic to onions.
“Um, ok, let’s see… I can wriggle my toes and my fingers.
And… yep I can sit up. I don’t feel concussed. Hmmm, my pants are torn, but not
badly. Ewe, my knuckles are bleeding.”
The man laughed “Well, bleeding knuckles doesn’t sound life
threatening; you must have some pretty good quality gear.”
“The best.”
“How about we get this bike off the road and I drive you
down to The Tavern so you can call someone to come and get you?”
Stella accepted the offer and grimaced at the scratching
sound as the man pushed the bike off the road. She climbed into his car
gratefully and they continued down the road to the tavern. The trip was just
long enough for the man to inquire about Stella’s wellbeing three or four times
before they pulled into the car park of the tavern.
He followed her inside as she pulled her mobile phone out of
her pocket (conveniently, not the side that had scraped along the bitumen). She
found the number at the top of her ‘most dialled’ list and put the phone to her
ear. The man watched cautiously as she spoke.
“Hey, I’ve got a flat tire and I’m stuck in Mermaid Beach,
can you come and get me? No, well it’s not just a flat – I kinda crashed it. I
don’t know, I didn’t check. I had to get it off the road and get out of the
rain... Oh, well how long will that take? Well, I’ll just wait at The Tavern
until you can get here. I’m fine, by the way.” She flipped the phone shut and
slumped into a nearby booth.
“I’m going have to wait here a while.” She told the man.
“I can wait with you if you like.”
“That’s ok, really, thank you so much for helping me – but I
don’t know how long I’ll be waiting for.”
“I’d actually feel better if I waited with you – I wouldn’t
want you passing out from blood loss in your knuckles.”
“Thanks.” Stella smiled.
“I’m Joshua by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Joshua. I’m Stella.”
“I don’t know much about these things – but that seemed like
a pretty sweet bike.”
“Yeah - it’s a Triumph Street Triple R.”
“Oh – that means nothing to me.”
“It’s pretty awesome anyway.”
“It doesn’t really seem like the sort of bike you could buy
on a waitress salary. Sorry – that’s none of my business!” Joshua flushed with
embarrassment.
“Don’t worry – it’s actually not – I have a very generous
boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Joshua tried in vain to hide the disappointed look on
his face. “So you have no idea how long he’ll be?”
“No, he has a friend with a tow truck – but they’re all…
busy, could even be a couple of hours knowing that lot.”
“In that case, would you like a drink?”
Joshua and Stella sat for an hour, talking and drinking.
“Don’t you have to drive home?” Stella asked after drink
number four.
“I only live around the corner – I’ll walk home.”
“It’s been an hour, I’d better call Ben again.” She took out
her phone and called again.
Just as Stella thought she was going to get diverted to
voicemail, Ben answered.
“Stella, I’m in the middle of something, right now.”
“Sorry, just quickly – I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t
forgotten about me – do you know how long you’ll be?”
“I have no idea. Me and the boys will be up there when we
can.”
“Okay – see you then.”
Stella rolled her eyes; The
boys - great.
“Another hour if I’m lucky.” She told Joshua, “you really
don’t have to wait with me –if you have somewhere you need to be.”
“I’m happy to wait – you wanna play some pool?”
So Joshua ordered some more drinks while Stella set the pool
table up. She beat him four games to one before they both realised another hour
and a half had passed. By this time, the tavern was starting to get busier with
people coming in for some post-dinner entertainment and a local band began to
play on the other side of the room.
“I’ve had enough pool for now.” Stella announced as Joshua
offered to buy another round of drinks.
“Ok, I’ll meet you back at the booth.” He said.
Stella made her way back to the booth, bumping into another
woman in the process. When she reached the table, she pulled her heavy riding
jacket off, wondering why she hadn’t done so earlier.
Joshua returned to the table with a tray of four drinks.
“I figured I could save time and get two rounds at once.
Wow.” He stared at Stella, who was now wearing a black figure-hugging singlet.
“Nice tatt.” He gestured at the bold design that was tattooed around her upper
arm.
“Oh thanks,” She said shyly.
“Does it mean something?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Um. Nothing.” They laughed.
When the door opened next, Stella heard the loud voices of
the men who entered and she stiffened.
“Thank you so much, Joshua – um, my boyfriend’s here, I’ve
gotta go.” She got up and tried to make her way directly to the door quickly.
But Ben had already spotted her and he and his three companions converged on
the booth.
“Hey , baby.” Stella smiled.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Joshua – he helped me when the bike crashed this
afternoon.”
“Helped you? I bet he did.” Ben took hold of Joshua’s jacket
firmly. “You’ve been ‘looking after her’ have you?”
“I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt.” Joshua
answered shakily.
“You think I can’t look after my own girlfriend?”
“Well, she’s been waiting for you for three hours.”
“I’ve been in a … business meeting.”
“Ben,” Stella interrupted “Joshua helped me off the road and
then I didn’t want to wait by myself. Nothing’s going on. Let’s just go home.”
Stella tried to grab Ben’s shirt and pull him away, but he swatted her off him.
She stumbled back and fell to the floor.
“Hey!” Joshua tried to go to Stella’s aid, but was held back
by two of Ben’s companions.
“Go and wait in the truck.” Ben ordered.
“Ben. No, please, let’s just go home.”
“Go.” He growled. Stella ran outside to the car park. The
storm had passed but the rain still drizzled and Stella slipped as she ran to
the truck, re-opening the wounds on her hands. She fumbled in her pocket for
her phone. Her tears and the rain made it hard to see and her bleeding hands
and drunkenness made it hard to hold the phone properly, so she gave up making
the call and climbed into the truck instead. She watched the door of the tavern
and noticed several small groups of people leaving in a hurry.
A few minutes later, Ben and his friends came out the door.
From the truck, she could see that Ben’s knuckles looked as bloodied as
Stella’s. But she knew without doubt that the blood was not his own.
