Crazy Plots

This was another swap - the rules were to use a writing prompts site that brings up random prompts and write a short story...
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.