The Beginning of Amanda's Night
Prologue
Two weeks had passed since the Prophet known as Eli had begun his preaching in New York City. But, in the metropolis of St. Louis, his words were just echoes from television sets. To Amanda Kingston they were just background noise as she prepared herself for her evening shift at the Courtesy Diner on Kingshighway. With the window open while she scrambled together her last few things that would help her get through the next ten hours at work she barely registered anything that the man said, instead she noticed the lack of noise outside. An expectant hush had fallen over her neighborhood, while many would think of this as the sign of a quiet night, she knew it to hint at the exact opposite. Grabbing her purse she headed out the door and turned to check her lock on her apartment door. No matter how many times her landlord told her that their building's door was secure, she was almost more wary of the people that were already inside than anyone that didn't belong there. As she headed down the two flights of stairs she checked the clock on her cell phone, discovering she had nine minutes to get to the bus stop so she could catch the Ninety-Five to work. The Kingshighway line normally ran on time, give or take a minute or three. She wasn't due on shift at the Diner until Eight Thirty, which she wouldn't make if she did miss the bus, but would get there ten minutes early if she did. Realizing this drew Amanda's thoughts back to the last conversation she'd had with her boss, Greg, and suddenly her legs were carrying her at a much brisker pace.
Five minutes later, Amanda found herself sitting on the metal bench at the bus stop in front of White Castle wishing that people would stop relieving themselves in the Bi-State's booth. The glass shelter provided no privacy, but she figured that the homeless people who did such things didn't have much in the way of shame to begin with. Her Christian upbringing immediately chided her for this thought, but quickly got shoved aside, like it so often did. There was too much pain in the world to believe in an "all-loving" God who looked at each child like his special creation. She knew that most of this had to do with losing two people whom she cared about at a young age, but it still bugged her, and since no priest/rabbi/minister had come forward with an answer as to why God would allow a woman who devoted her life to this "all-loving" God to die such a painful death, she figured that a lot of it was just made up as they went along, and that deserved no reverence or, in most cases, even a second thought. Again she checked her cell phone's clock, making sure that she hadn't missed the bus. There were times when she thought about buying a watch, but she had, like many other people of her generation, realized that carrying a phone that always told the time negated the need to pay fifty dollars for something that just told time was a little ludicrous. Her tips weren't that good. By the time that she looked up from her phone and stared down the street towards the fire house she caught the glare of the orange sign atop the Bi-State. 95: Kingshighway. She hadn't missed it, she would actually be on time for work. Early even, much better.
The bus screeched to a halt in front of her and when the doors opened with their powerful buffet of air she stepped back, allowing a large man to brush past her as he grumbled something unintelligible. Without missing a beat she strode up the three steps and dropped her buck fifty into the clear plastic canister. When it buzzed she trotted on back to a seat facing the front of the bus, past a young guy sitting there proudly blasting obnoxious over-bassed rap music. Shaking her head in amusement Amanda sat down and, even though only moments had past since her last glance, checked her cell phone again. There was something that was nagging at her, she didn't know what it was, but the relative calm of the city was unnerving her. On most nights like this the weirdos came out, either them or the rude ones, and on nights when she got the jerks she swore that the clock slowed down just to torment her. She closed her eyes and rubbed them, banishing the thoughts of bad customers to the recesses of her mind, too many times she'd walked into work with a bad attitude only to have it made worse through her own negative energy. Not tonight though. She wouldn't let that happen.
"What the..." The guy sitting up ahead of her looked down in confusion as the music stopped playing from his music player. Around Amanda sighs of relief could be heard, apparently he'd been on the bus for some time. Her fellow passenger's relief was short lived however as a new song began, this one unlike the other that had been thumping from his over-sized headphones. He snapped them off his head and looked at them in disbelief. Amanda found herself listening to the music, able to make out the words despite being ten feet away, and was almost immediately unnerved.
"Say goodbye, as we dance with the Devil tonight.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,
As we dance with the Devil tonight."
Without warning the song died and went back to the obnoxious rap, much to the joy of the guy and the chagrin of the rest of the passengers. He put his headphones back on and went back to his imitation of television's late night gangsters, waving fingers in the air, head whipping back and forth with the beat that overrode the words. His music player's random song selection seemingly forgotten to him as he continued to sway, but for Amanda it wouldn't fade so easily. God she had a hard time believing in as being a powerful force for peace, but the Devil was something that she could wrap her head around. Obviously there was something that caused pain in this world, something that was more powerful than God otherwise it wouldn't be so prominent. Hearing something about dancing with the Devil was just a little to ominous on the already disturbing night. When she next peaked out the window she noticed that they were nearing the Home Depot that was right across the street from the Diner and in an almost panic she reached up to yank the cord for her stop. Even as the bell finished it's chime she was out of her seat standing at the back door of the bus, ready to get off. Number Ninety-Five slowed to a halt and the door opened up into the cold November night and Amanda charged out into it. She glanced across Kingshighway and found that she could actually cross without waiting, which for anyone who had ever seen a major street in a large urban city knew, was very rare.
Maybe this is a sign of a quiet night, Amanda thought as she strolled across Kingshighway. Almost immediately her brain returned that thought as too naive and deserving of a sound knock on wood, a foreign object in the middle of the street. Then and there she knew that her fate was sealed for the night. When she reached the other side of the street she jogged up the four stairs and opened the door to a near-deafening din, smells pungent enough to test her gag reflex, and the most disturbing; an approving gaze from her boss. That alone was almost enough to make her turn around and run. Never before in her three years had Greg looked at her with genuin warmth, yet there it was. Something had to be wrong.
"Oh have I been waiting for you!" Were the first words out of Greg's mouth as she made her way behind the counter. When he got a half-wary smile back his own grin just grew larger. "Shelly called in sick. I've had to wait tables and cook for the past hour."
Amanda knew that she wasn't going to be asked to cook, having demonstrated that her culinary skills stopped at making a badly burned grilled cheese sandwich in her first interview. That was also the only time she'd seen her bosses sense of humor as well. When she had finished burning the sandwich he asked her how she had managed to feed herself, her reply of "TV dinners" prompted the only joke she had ever heard out of him, "Ah, so you got your degree from Marie Calender University. Got it. So, waitress it is, huh?"
Now, as he stood in front of her smiling she knew it was going to be a long night. The usually overcrowded and understaffed diner was even more shorthanded. Shelly was one of two other waitresses, and Selma, a seventy-two year old retiree should have been called a "sittress" instead. Often Amanda had compared her to the village crone the way she sat perched on her stool behind the cash register, peering out at customers as if she was trying to read their souls instead of their credit card information. Tonight, the Courtesy Diner was all Amanda's.
"Well, I better get started then." was all that came out instead of the replies that were full of enough expletives to make a movie censor have a coronary. Greg just smiled even wider, took off his apron, and turned to the grill. As Amanda tied her apron on she glanced around the restaurant and noticed that no regulars were in, and that so far everyone seemed to be rather well set on relaxing and enjoying their time and food.
The next time that Amanda glanced at the clock on the wall three and a half hours had passed and it was quickly approaching midnight. Nothing had gone awry, and Amanda had been able to handle everything that had been thrown at her. Still, this only served to heighten her sense of anxiety about what the rest of the night would bring. Quickly wrapping up a table of two college-age guys she made sure to give the one who had handled the check a bit longer glance and then turned around, praying she had bought herself at least an extra dollar with the look. Her focus slid to the front door where the next customer walked in. Warning bells went off in her head immediately, and she knew that this was what had been building in her stomach all night. He was tall, solidly built, and wrapped up tighter than a Swiss watch. It wasn't just the way he was dressed, but the way that he took in the place. He didn't want anyone to interfere, and it seemed that Amanda would be pushing too much by asking him what he wanted to eat.
Nevertheless, she offered him the most genuine smile she could and told him that she'd be right with him if he wanted to seat himself. Trying to shake off the feeling of impending doom she looked at Selma who, still sitting on her stool, was now sitting straight up, as if someone had put a steel rod up her usually curved spine. "Selma? You know him?"
"No." The elderly woman's eyes never left the new customer, and Amanda could have sworn she saw a shiver run down her body. Amanda had seen Selma look drug dealers straight in the face and call them "Honeychild" without flinching. For this guy to rattle her, it was enough to shake Amanda.
Glancing around, the man selected a seat off the main wall, facing the back of the diner, with room for one more person at his table. Great, another creep is going to join him later. She closed her eyes, took three deep breaths and grabbed her order pad from her apron's biggest pocket. Walking up to the man felt like she was walking into a dragon's lair, just waiting for the jaws to snap out and devour her. "What can I get for you sir?" It was never sir it was always; my dear, hun, or sweetie. Never did she call a customer sir.
He looked up at her with eyes that betrayed no emotion, and a stare that bored into her as he said,"Coffee, black." and looked away again. Amanda nodded curtly, turned around and walked away, her mind racing to think of things that she could do instead of serving that man anymore. Tips didn't matter off this table, the guy probably wasn't going to spend anything worth tipping more than ten cents on.
The Diner
Two weeks had passed since the Prophet known as Eli had begun his preaching in New York City. But, in the metropolis of St. Louis, his words were just echoes from television sets. To Amanda Kingston they were just background noise as she prepared herself for her evening shift at the Courtesy Diner on Kingshighway. With the window open while she scrambled together her last few things that would help her get through the next ten hours at work she barely registered anything that the man said, instead she noticed the lack of noise outside. An expectant hush had fallen over her neighborhood, while many would think of this as the sign of a quiet night, she knew it to hint at the exact opposite. Grabbing her purse she headed out the door and turned to check her lock on her apartment door. No matter how many times her landlord told her that their building's door was secure, she was almost more wary of the people that were already inside than anyone that didn't belong there. As she headed down the two flights of stairs she checked the clock on her cell phone, discovering she had nine minutes to get to the bus stop so she could catch the Ninety-Five to work. The Kingshighway line normally ran on time, give or take a minute or three. She wasn't due on shift at the Diner until Eight Thirty, which she wouldn't make if she did miss the bus, but would get there ten minutes early if she did. Realizing this drew Amanda's thoughts back to the last conversation she'd had with her boss, Greg, and suddenly her legs were carrying her at a much brisker pace.
Five minutes later, Amanda found herself sitting on the metal bench at the bus stop in front of White Castle wishing that people would stop relieving themselves in the Bi-State's booth. The glass shelter provided no privacy, but she figured that the homeless people who did such things didn't have much in the way of shame to begin with. Her Christian upbringing immediately chided her for this thought, but quickly got shoved aside, like it so often did. There was too much pain in the world to believe in an "all-loving" God who looked at each child like his special creation. She knew that most of this had to do with losing two people whom she cared about at a young age, but it still bugged her, and since no priest/rabbi/minister had come forward with an answer as to why God would allow a woman who devoted her life to this "all-loving" God to die such a painful death, she figured that a lot of it was just made up as they went along, and that deserved no reverence or, in most cases, even a second thought. Again she checked her cell phone's clock, making sure that she hadn't missed the bus. There were times when she thought about buying a watch, but she had, like many other people of her generation, realized that carrying a phone that always told the time negated the need to pay fifty dollars for something that just told time was a little ludicrous. Her tips weren't that good. By the time that she looked up from her phone and stared down the street towards the fire house she caught the glare of the orange sign atop the Bi-State. 95: Kingshighway. She hadn't missed it, she would actually be on time for work. Early even, much better.
The bus screeched to a halt in front of her and when the doors opened with their powerful buffet of air she stepped back, allowing a large man to brush past her as he grumbled something unintelligible. Without missing a beat she strode up the three steps and dropped her buck fifty into the clear plastic canister. When it buzzed she trotted on back to a seat facing the front of the bus, past a young guy sitting there proudly blasting obnoxious over-bassed rap music. Shaking her head in amusement Amanda sat down and, even though only moments had past since her last glance, checked her cell phone again. There was something that was nagging at her, she didn't know what it was, but the relative calm of the city was unnerving her. On most nights like this the weirdos came out, either them or the rude ones, and on nights when she got the jerks she swore that the clock slowed down just to torment her. She closed her eyes and rubbed them, banishing the thoughts of bad customers to the recesses of her mind, too many times she'd walked into work with a bad attitude only to have it made worse through her own negative energy. Not tonight though. She wouldn't let that happen.
"What the..." The guy sitting up ahead of her looked down in confusion as the music stopped playing from his music player. Around Amanda sighs of relief could be heard, apparently he'd been on the bus for some time. Her fellow passenger's relief was short lived however as a new song began, this one unlike the other that had been thumping from his over-sized headphones. He snapped them off his head and looked at them in disbelief. Amanda found herself listening to the music, able to make out the words despite being ten feet away, and was almost immediately unnerved.
"Say goodbye, as we dance with the Devil tonight.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,
As we dance with the Devil tonight."
Without warning the song died and went back to the obnoxious rap, much to the joy of the guy and the chagrin of the rest of the passengers. He put his headphones back on and went back to his imitation of television's late night gangsters, waving fingers in the air, head whipping back and forth with the beat that overrode the words. His music player's random song selection seemingly forgotten to him as he continued to sway, but for Amanda it wouldn't fade so easily. God she had a hard time believing in as being a powerful force for peace, but the Devil was something that she could wrap her head around. Obviously there was something that caused pain in this world, something that was more powerful than God otherwise it wouldn't be so prominent. Hearing something about dancing with the Devil was just a little to ominous on the already disturbing night. When she next peaked out the window she noticed that they were nearing the Home Depot that was right across the street from the Diner and in an almost panic she reached up to yank the cord for her stop. Even as the bell finished it's chime she was out of her seat standing at the back door of the bus, ready to get off. Number Ninety-Five slowed to a halt and the door opened up into the cold November night and Amanda charged out into it. She glanced across Kingshighway and found that she could actually cross without waiting, which for anyone who had ever seen a major street in a large urban city knew, was very rare.
Maybe this is a sign of a quiet night, Amanda thought as she strolled across Kingshighway. Almost immediately her brain returned that thought as too naive and deserving of a sound knock on wood, a foreign object in the middle of the street. Then and there she knew that her fate was sealed for the night. When she reached the other side of the street she jogged up the four stairs and opened the door to a near-deafening din, smells pungent enough to test her gag reflex, and the most disturbing; an approving gaze from her boss. That alone was almost enough to make her turn around and run. Never before in her three years had Greg looked at her with genuin warmth, yet there it was. Something had to be wrong.
"Oh have I been waiting for you!" Were the first words out of Greg's mouth as she made her way behind the counter. When he got a half-wary smile back his own grin just grew larger. "Shelly called in sick. I've had to wait tables and cook for the past hour."
Amanda knew that she wasn't going to be asked to cook, having demonstrated that her culinary skills stopped at making a badly burned grilled cheese sandwich in her first interview. That was also the only time she'd seen her bosses sense of humor as well. When she had finished burning the sandwich he asked her how she had managed to feed herself, her reply of "TV dinners" prompted the only joke she had ever heard out of him, "Ah, so you got your degree from Marie Calender University. Got it. So, waitress it is, huh?"
Now, as he stood in front of her smiling she knew it was going to be a long night. The usually overcrowded and understaffed diner was even more shorthanded. Shelly was one of two other waitresses, and Selma, a seventy-two year old retiree should have been called a "sittress" instead. Often Amanda had compared her to the village crone the way she sat perched on her stool behind the cash register, peering out at customers as if she was trying to read their souls instead of their credit card information. Tonight, the Courtesy Diner was all Amanda's.
"Well, I better get started then." was all that came out instead of the replies that were full of enough expletives to make a movie censor have a coronary. Greg just smiled even wider, took off his apron, and turned to the grill. As Amanda tied her apron on she glanced around the restaurant and noticed that no regulars were in, and that so far everyone seemed to be rather well set on relaxing and enjoying their time and food.
The next time that Amanda glanced at the clock on the wall three and a half hours had passed and it was quickly approaching midnight. Nothing had gone awry, and Amanda had been able to handle everything that had been thrown at her. Still, this only served to heighten her sense of anxiety about what the rest of the night would bring. Quickly wrapping up a table of two college-age guys she made sure to give the one who had handled the check a bit longer glance and then turned around, praying she had bought herself at least an extra dollar with the look. Her focus slid to the front door where the next customer walked in. Warning bells went off in her head immediately, and she knew that this was what had been building in her stomach all night. He was tall, solidly built, and wrapped up tighter than a Swiss watch. It wasn't just the way he was dressed, but the way that he took in the place. He didn't want anyone to interfere, and it seemed that Amanda would be pushing too much by asking him what he wanted to eat.
Nevertheless, she offered him the most genuine smile she could and told him that she'd be right with him if he wanted to seat himself. Trying to shake off the feeling of impending doom she looked at Selma who, still sitting on her stool, was now sitting straight up, as if someone had put a steel rod up her usually curved spine. "Selma? You know him?"
"No." The elderly woman's eyes never left the new customer, and Amanda could have sworn she saw a shiver run down her body. Amanda had seen Selma look drug dealers straight in the face and call them "Honeychild" without flinching. For this guy to rattle her, it was enough to shake Amanda.
Glancing around, the man selected a seat off the main wall, facing the back of the diner, with room for one more person at his table. Great, another creep is going to join him later. She closed her eyes, took three deep breaths and grabbed her order pad from her apron's biggest pocket. Walking up to the man felt like she was walking into a dragon's lair, just waiting for the jaws to snap out and devour her. "What can I get for you sir?" It was never sir it was always; my dear, hun, or sweetie. Never did she call a customer sir.
He looked up at her with eyes that betrayed no emotion, and a stare that bored into her as he said,"Coffee, black." and looked away again. Amanda nodded curtly, turned around and walked away, her mind racing to think of things that she could do instead of serving that man anymore. Tips didn't matter off this table, the guy probably wasn't going to spend anything worth tipping more than ten cents on.
The Diner